#but lately I really want a new perfume and some new earrings I’ve been so depressed and it’s been so long since I felt pretty ;-;

[alexsyndrome]

I’ve been wanting to get into perfume lately but have absolutely 0 knowledge or like concepts of smells LOL I’m very picky about it too. I don’t want to smell like someone’s grandma or that strong chemical scent many perfumes give off 🤮🤢 I know that must sound so childish. But I’ve been researching scents trying to find some I may like!! I think from now on, I’m going to pick a couple to seek out & smell when I go to the mall on the weekends. I’m def going to start with the Elizabeth Arden green tea spray this weekend when I go. Maybe today I will research a couple more to find, as well. 💖

[roanniom]

What Comes After

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: When Steve waits too long after you give birth to initiate sex, you take matters into your own hands.

Note: I know very very little about pregnancy and the aftermath. Most of this comes from what I read in other fics, what I’ve vaguely heard from my friends, and a 5 min google search about lactation. Sorry in advance if this is incorrect.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, angst that resolves, mentions of pregnancy / babies / parenthood, PIV/unprotected sex, lactation during sex

After you give birth to your baby, you completely assumed Steve would be itching to ravish you the minute your doctor gave the all clear. In fact, you’d been mentally preparing yourself for that since before you went into labor. Those first few weeks afterwards were as rough as people had warned you and then some, but you couldn’t imagine it without your Steve.

Steve who was there beside you for absolutely everything. Late night feedings, mid day crying sessions, general panic attacks about how to do anything right for the first time, really. You’d wake up to hear him in the next room, holding and rocking your daughter back to sleep, his hushed voice soothing her whimpers and in turn lulling you back to rest.

It’s not that you thought the man capable of being such a loving, gentle partner in this new stage of life would turn into some ravenous monster at the first suggestion of sex. It’s just that he’d always been such an attentive, eager, enthusiastic lover, and that had only magnified as your pregnancy had gone on. Your hormones had made you insatiable, especially toward the end. Steve had very much gotten used to you needing to use him like a toy often - sometimes multiple times a day. So it just stands to reason that he would be absolutely itching to get back to it.

But the day of your follow up doctor's appointment came and went and...nothing. You'd come home and let him know the good news, a way smile on your face as you braced for his celebration. Steve had just looked at you over the baby's head where he had her cradled to his chest and smiled.

"Glad to hear you're healing up right, sweetheart!"

And that was that.

You'd assumed maybe he was holding himself back for your daughter's sake. So that night you'd climbed into bed wearing something slightly nicer than the long flowy nightgowns you'd taken to sporting the last few months. You applied a bit of perfume at your pulse points and rubbed a little lotion on your legs. Steve walked in shortly after running a final sweep of the apartment, making sure everything is off and locked up (he's fallen perfectly into the protective father stereotype), and when he crossed the threshold you beamed at him.

"Look at you. All smiley and beautiful and cozy," Steve cooed, sliding into bed beside you. His arms encircled you and pulled you against his body and again, you felt yourself steeling your nerves, ready for the inevitable escalation. So much so that you leaned up to initiate yourself, pressing your lips against your husband's throat. Steve hummed against your ministrations before doing the last thing you thought he'd do - he kissed the top of your head and turned you in his arms, nestling you into a warm, firm grip.

"Good night, baby. Love you," he whispered in your ear.

And that was that.

You'd been pretty surprised by the lack of action. A little rattled actually. But as Steve's breathing evened out and his arms around you became heavier with sleep, you'd reminded yourself that you hadn't really felt ready anyway. Your feelings of rejection assuaged, you'd allowed sleep to take you with him.

However, as the weeks wore on, you were less and less able to ignore the nagging feeling.

With each passing day that your husband didn't initiate sex, you began worrying more and more that he didn't want you anymore. Your postpartum hormones had you feeling wildly unfounded emotions, and you had to keep reminding yourself that they were unfounded because the evidence of Steve's actions didn't line up with your suspicions.

Steve was nothing but physical with you in the aftermath of the birth of your daughter. Constantly coming up behind you and wrapping you in his arms. Constantly showering your face and neck with kisses when he entered any room. Pulling you down to sit in his lap when you finally put the baby down for a nap or for the night. His hands were on you at all times.

Not to mention the fact that you had woken up multiple times in the middle of the night (needing to pee) to the feeling of his hard cock nestled against your curves, his arms pulling you that much tighter against him when you tried to get up.

All of these mixed messaged led to you feeling extremely confused. So much so that you did the first thing you could think of besides confronting the issue head on (because of course you weren't going to ask Steve directly, that would be too mature).

"Why hasn't he...what?!" Eddie's eyes practically bulge out of his head in response to your question. You narrow your eyes at him in contrast.

Steve has run out to get some Chinese food since "Uncle Eddie" has come over for a movie night. The different members of the gang have been coming over each weekend to help you two out and also give you a much needed dose of friendship normalcy. Eddie is sitting on your couch, your daughter in his arms, as you sit beside him with your arms crossed.

"Why hasn't he fucked me since I gave birth?" you repeat expectantly. Eddie does his best to cover the baby's ears.

"There is literally a child - your child - present, you slut," Eddie accuses in a stage whisper. You laugh out loud at that.

"First of all, she can't understand a single word that's being said. And second of all, you can't call me a slut in front of my child." You move to smack him but Eddie ducks, giving you a cheeky smile.

Eddie might be really close with Steve, but you'd very much stolen him as a best friend in your own right. As it stands, Steve has Robin and you have Eddie, that's pretty much the loyalty line. So you attempt to lean on that loyalty to solve your problem.

"C'mon, Eds," you pout. "I'm really dying here."

Eddie's eyes go wide again and he puts his hand back over your sleeping daughter's exposed ear, pressing her other ear further against his chest.

"You're really missing dick that bad?" he whispers. You shrug.

"Not just dick. Steve's dick." It comes out in a whine that has Eddie chuckling. "I'm just worried he doesn't want -,"

"Well shut right the fuck up," Eddie cuts you off with an emphatic shake of his head. "It definitely isn't that he doesn't want you."

"Aha. So you do know more than you were letting on. Spill, Munson." You lean towards him and Eddie realizes he's gotten himself stuck in something he would rather have avoided. He scratches his head with his free hand.

"It's nothing. Really. It's..."

You stare daggers into him and his shoulders sag.

"He's really scared of hurting you."

You blink at that.

"Hurting me?"

Eddie looks extremely uncomfortable, shifting in his seat and looking down at the baby before looking back up at you.

"He read one of those baby books and it said that husbands can...you know...get amorous too soon and..."

You laugh incredulously, but Eddie looks like he wants to jump out of the second story window of your apartment.

"You're laughing, but he mentioned it to Robin and Robin said that it was 100% true and that he could...I don't know...rip you open or some shit-"

"Eddie!" you cut your friend off before he can make himself any more uncomfortable. "I mean, yes. It's true. But I've been cleared by the doctor. It's been like...months since that would have been something to worry about."

Eddie raises an eyebrow at that. The baby fusses quietly in his arms and he automatically bounces his knee to rock her just slightly, soothing her. Despite the nature of your conversation, the whole image melts your heart.

"Look, princess," Eddie says quietly, pulling out his long-used nickname for you. "Steve loves you pretty much more than any one human can possibly love someone. And you know I hate complimenting that asshole."

You snort in response but he continues.

"I'm sure it's killing him, too, to not be...intimate. Have you talked to him about it?"

"I told him that the doctor said it was okay..." you reply, kind of avoiding the question. Eddie groans, dropping his head against the back of the couch.

"This isn't one of those things where you come to me for help and I find out you haven't even tried doing anything to fix it first, is it?"

"Edward Munson, how could you ask me that?" you ask with faux insult. Eddie rolls his head to the side to look at you.

"I can ask you that because of the time you thought Steve wanted to just be friends with you and instead of talking to him you cried to me."

"That's - "

"And that time you thought he'd been sneaking around behind your back, even though all he was doing was planning his proposal."

"Okaaay, Eddie."

"And the time - ,"

"Alright shut up," you snap, not holding back your laughter. You bite your lip and look back at your friend holding your baby, the product of your love with Steve. You chew on the inside of your cheek. "Fine. Maybe I need to do something myself."

"Ya think?" Eddie asks with a grin that says he's way too pleased with himself.

"But you're going to help me."

Eddie's smile turns into an overdramatic frown.

"Why do I have to do anything? It's your sex life, slut."

"Because you love me," you say simply, batting your eyelashes. Eddie goes to respond but in that exact moment your daughter decides to wake up, stretching and giving the cutest tiny yawn in the entire world, melting the metal head in front of you. He glances up at you begrudgingly and then kisses the baby on her nose. Gazing down at her, he coos.

"Guess I'm gonna help your mommy get laid. Again."

~*~

It's about a week later by the time your plan can finally be put into action.

Steve comes home at the end of a long Friday at Family Video, ready to spend the night with his two girls. He runs in the door of your shared apartment and heads straight to the nursery so quickly he doesn't have enough time to register his surroundings. The dimmed lights, the lit candles, the soft music playing. When he reaches the nursery and finds the crib empty, however, Steve's blinders come off.

"Honey? Honey where are you?" Steve asks, calling out and walking back into the living room, unsettled.

That’s when you step out of your bedroom, leaning against the doorway in a silky robe.

“Right here, Stevie.”

Steve’s jaw drops open at the sight of you, all the air knocked from his lungs. He blinks rapidly. Seemingly unable to process what’s going on.

“Baby…?”

“She’s with Joyce and Hopper for the night,” you reply, though you know the pet name was for you and not a question about your daughter. Steve looks around the room as if taking the state of it in for the first time, but also as if he is slightly aimless without a baby to care for.

“That’s…wow. Is it too soon? It’ll be weird not putting her to bed,” Steve says, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

You know what he means. When Eddie had come to get her earlier this afternoon, you’d felt like your heart was being ripped from your body. But looking at your husband right now - feeling the chasm between you close as his eyes rake down your body - you know it was the right thing to do.

"We needed a night to be grown ups. Don't you think, Steve?" you ask, pushing off from the doorway. Your silk robe slips open, revealing a gauzy babydoll night dress that hits right at your upper thigh. You swear Steve turns a shade of red you've never seen in a matter of seconds. You can hear an audible swallow as you move into Steve's space, tugging at his Family Video vest till it falls off his shoulders and onto the floor. "You want that, too, don't you?"

You don't give him a second to respond. Instead you crawl your fingers up under his shirt, grasping at his sides to pull him to you as you big to kiss the side of his neck. The shuddering inhale is a good indication of the effect you're having on him, followed immediately by the way his arms encircle your body.

This is what you've wanted. What you've needed. What you've craved every night as you laid beside your doting, sweet, silly husband, desperate for a touch he hadn't necessarily deprived you of, but a touch which you needed more more more.

"Honey." He says it like a prayer. Like a question to be answered. You pull back from his skin long enough to look up and find his face a storm of emotion. Love and lust and worry swirl together, but before you can move to comfort or question him, his lips are on yours. Kissing you for all he's worth. For all you're worth. For all the two of you are worth combined.

The kissing never stopped. That wasn't something he'd been holding back from you these past few months. But clearly he'd been holding back in intensity, because there's something all-consuming about the way Steve is kissing you now. It has you gasping for air in the mere seconds of reprieve he gives you before he's back to devouring your mouth, his hands roaming all over the body he'd spent so long treating with kid gloves.

You're the one who begins walking backwards, leading him into the bedroom without pulling away from the kiss. It's easy to forget about the other plans you'd made for the evening. The bottle of wine on the counter, the meal on the table. You'd assumed you might have to wine and dine Steve. Get him a little loose and convince him to ravish you. You hadn't expected him to crumble like this or to become as nonverbal as he has since he walked in the door. Your usually talkative man has dissolved into nothing but pants and grunts as he tries his best to get his lips and hands on every part of you he can.

When the backs of your knees hit the bed and you pull him down on top of you, however, he does finally seem to come to his senses.

"We...oh fuck. We don't have to do anything, honey," Steve mutters, albeit into your lips.

"Wanna do everything, Stevie," you say in response, grabbing his hands and placing them back on your swollen breasts. Steve groans into your jaw this time but is more successful in his attempt to pull away.

"Sweetheart, we should slow down."

"No, we shouldn't," you say, a bit more indignant this time. Realizing that Steve is no longer putting any of his body weight on you, you panic and do the first thing that comes to mind - you yank him down and then twist so that his back is against the mattress so you can clamber on top of him.

"Honey, what are you - ?"

"Steve. I need you to fuck me. And if you’re worried you’re gonna hurt me, just forget about it because I’ve been healed for months at this point and you know it.”

You know your eyes must be shining with unshed tears at this point so you do your best to blink them away, hoping they aren’t visible to Steve in the low light. But of course he notices. It’s Steve.

He immediately sits up so he can be face to face as you straddle him, his large hands coming to cup your face like you’re so delicate you’ll break.

“I just…the books said…you were in so much pain after the birth…”

Steve looks way more lost than you’ve ever seen him, his hair tousled from your hands and his eyes darting everywhere in discomfort before resting back on yours. You wait for him to continue but he doesn’t so you squeeze his biceps.

“Steve. You have to tell me these things that you’re worried about.”

“I know…” he tries to dismiss you, looking away. It makes you grab his chin.

“I thought you didn’t want me anymore,” you finally say plainly. Steve’s eyes stop looking for anywhere else to rest, instead flying to your face and blowing wide. He opens his mouth but you keep going. “I thought you weren’t attracted to me anymore. That you didn’t see me in that way…”

“Honey, stop,” Steve says, speaking forcefully for the first time all night. For the first time in months. “That’s crazy. You know that? You know you’re talking crazy, right? Like certifiably insane.”

“Steve…”

“How could you say that? Are you out of your mind?” His voice raises a bit as he gets more riled up. It makes you bite your lip.

“Don’t…don’t belittle…” you can feel the flood of emotion starting to surge to the surface, the dam much quicker to break these days since you gave birth. Steve grips you tighter, hand on the back of your neck to force you to look at him.

“I’m not belittling your fears. You are belittling my love for you if you think for one second that I’m not attracted to you anymore. That I don’t fall in love with you again every single time I lay eyes on you. That I don’t want you with every dumb molecule in my being. And I know I was shitty in science class but I know thats a lot of fucking molecules. You’re belittling my feelings if you don’t think I want to keep my hands on you every waking minute and that it kills me that that’s not possible. That I don’t get out of bed really early each morning and jerk off in the shower just because I had you in my arms all night.”

A wet chuckle comes out of you unbidden. The corner of Steve’s mouth quirks up but his brow remains furrowed.

“You have to tell me when you’re worried about things, honey,” he says quietly as he rests his forehead against yours.

“Isn’t that literally what I just said to you?” you scoff incredulously. Steve leans back and finally gives you a lopsided smile.

“Well not exactly. I’m sure I changed the words a little bit.”

“Steve Harrington, that is word for word—,”

You’re cut off when Steve closes the gap between you with a kiss. There’s not once ounce of protest left in you. You are starved for his affection. Greedy to consume and be consumed. You kiss him back with everything you have. It is heated and wet and hard and everything that you have been needing. You push and he gives. Allowing you to pressure him down so his back is once again against the bed.

You’re grinding against him now and it’s so good. A triumphant zing runs down your spine at the feeling of how thick and hard he is for you, reciprocating all of your feelings and reinforcing all of his words.

Steve Harrington wants you.

The father of your child and the love of your life.

Your Steve.

When Steve’s lips migrate down over the slope of your jaw to suck at your pulse, you moan loudly. The feeling of suction travels all the way through your body to the space between your legs and before you can do anything to counter it, you’re rocking back and forth against Steve in search of any friction possible.

“Steve. Please,” you practically sob out. He puts his hands on either side of your face but before he can say anything, you continue whimpering. “Please, Steve. Just give me something, anything—,”

“Shh, honey,” Steve says, kissing your heated face. “You don’t have to beg. I’m so sorry to have made you think you ever have to beg. For anything.”

The next series of events plays out in slow motion. Both because it’s the culmination of all of your hopes and wishes for the last few months and because Steve moves incrementally. Gently.

“We’re gonna take this slow, honey,” Steve says quietly as he rolls so that you’re the one on your back, your head propped up on pillows. He grabs one additional pillow and lifts your hips up so that they are elevated by the cushion.

“We don’t—,” you try to interrupt but Steve hushes you again, not unkindly.

“Baby, I’ll bend you over and fuck you so hard the neighbors call 911 again soon,” he chuckles and you cringe at the memory of one of the best nights of sex of your life. Steve takes a shuddering breath, looking down at you spread out for him. “But tonight…we’re gonna do this slow. For both of us.”

Big hands slide the hem of your babydoll nightgown up, revealing your naked pussy which immediately receives attention. Steve presses two fingers to your clit and begins to go in tried and true circular motions.

“I’m just saying. We could go faster…oh.” You’re cut off when one of Steve’s fingers slides all the way into you, causing your eyes to roll back. Steve chuckles and leans forward to kiss your exposed throat.

“Baby, I need to go slow. Don’t you get it?” he mutters into your skin. He moves his finger in and out of you slowly. “You’re acting like you’re the only one who hasn’t been fucked in months.”

The perspective has you preening, but before you can dig into that further, Steve presses the weight of his body on you and you’re a goner.

It’s all weight and skin and sweat and the skim of flesh on flesh and moans and warm breath.

You begin to forget where Steve ends and you begin. You both are one raw nerve ending, spurred on by gasps and rubs and moans. As someone whose patience had seemingly run out, you’re surprised to realize how easy it is to lose track of time with your lover so lost in you, and you in him. You don’t know how long it is that you revel in touch and pressure and heat before you feel him prodding at your entrance. Swollen and hot and and hard and needy and yours.

“Ready, baby?” Steve asks. He sounds far away, but you make sure to muster up eye contact so you can assure him as much as possible.

“Ready, Steve.”

He pushes in slow, and you’re pleased to confirm that you were right. You are ready for him. For this. There’s no discomfort. Just the inevitable sting of his size invading you in every way.

“Oh fuck,” you say quietly. Steve pulls out and then drives back in, more firm this time. You squeeze your eyes shut. “Oh fuck, fuck.”

“Get it all out, baby,” Steve says with a roguish grin. “Say whatever you need to tonight. Don’t want to be all foul mouthed with our daughter around.”

You know he’s joking but you roll your eyes.

“Well Eddie Munson called me a slut in front of our daughter the other day, so—,”

“He WHAT?!” Steve stops immediately, eyes wide. You laugh and grab at his ass, trying to force him to start moving again.

“It’s nothing. Just a joke. Come on, keep going!”

“You saying he called you a slut was a joke or him calling you a slut was the the joke?” Steve asks warily, but he does slowly begin thrusting back into you.

“The second one. I mean the first. I mean both - ah!” you gasp at the feeling of Steve nudging against a delicious spot inside you. Your nails dig deep into his arm. “Oh god.”

“Am I going to have to limit Eddie’s family privileges?” Steve jokes, knowing fully well that Eddie is yours just as much as Robin is his. You’re squinting up at him, brow furrowed. It’s adorable.

“Can you stop talking about Eddie Munson while you’re making me feel like this?” you ask.

“Hey, you’re the one who brought him up.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. Instead you surrender yourself to the pleasure melting through your bloodstream. Steve can see it on your face. It makes his ego swell in that way it always used to. A boyish grin splits his face and his hips pick up the pace.

“Making you feel like this, huh?” He quotes you. “Feels good?”

“Yeah. So good.”

“This what you wanted? Just wanted me to fuck you like old times?”

“If it was - oh god - like old times we’d both be drunk and fooling around in the bathroom at the - fuck - Hideout,” you try to say, though you’re interrupted by your own moans.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve says, leaning down and sucking on your throat again. There will definitely be marks, but you don’t have it in you to care or reprimand him. “I’m drunk on you right now.”

“Steve…,” you whisper. The name cracks in your throat when he snakes his hand down to play with your clit.

“Sounds like you’re drunk, too, baby - oh.”

The tone of his “oh” is different from his earlier teasing and you look down. Two wet spots have formed in the silk nightgown over your breasts.

“Shit. Shit,” you whine.

“Is that…”

“I’m lactating. I’m lactating during sex, Steve.” You have your hands slapped over your eyes to hide you away from the mortification of the moment.

“It’s ok. Hey. Hey! It’s okay.” Steve is chuckling, but his hands do their best to peel yours away from your eyes. Your crumpled face makes his heart hurt so he kisses your cheeks. “Baby, it’s okay. You were feeling good, right?”

“Yeah…but…”

“There’s no but. That’s all that matters,” Steve says definitively before dropping a more insistent kiss on your lips. His tongue delves into your mouth, his fingers winding in your hair. He’s trying to distract you. And it’s working, because soon your hips are rolling, trying to get him to start thrusting back into you again.

Steve finally pulls back, his hand gentle on your jaw.

“Do they hurt?” he asks quietly, glancing down at your breasts and back up.

“They’re a bit achey, yeah,” you admit. He leans down and presses a kiss to the valley between them. Your breath catches at the feeling. Steve hand comes up to cup one gingerly and you bite your lip. “Maybe don’t touch my nipples too much. Sensitive.”

“Of course, baby,” Steve agrees. He sits up higher, propping himself up with a hand by your head so that he’s leaning over you but has the leverage to pick up his thrusts again. Before long the feeling of him bottoming out inside you has you releasing a steady stream of moans. “Seems like you’re sensitive all over, huh?”

“Mmmmyeah,” you confirm, eyes shut tight against the pleasure.

Steve can feel your pussy start to clamp down on him. It’s his favorite feeling in the world - one his own fist could never hope to replicate. The apparent nearness of your orgasm spurs him on more than any aphrodisiac and he begins panting openly, his hips picking up speed.

“You’re close, I know you are, honey.”

You just nod furiously, practically beyond words as you grip his biceps for all you’re worth. Steve lets out a breathless chuckle.

“I know, me too, honey. You gotta cum for me, okay?”

“Steve…” you gasp out, peering up at him through lust hazed eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t…don’t make me go this long again,” you say weakly. “Please.”

Steve’s heart absolutely splinters at the way you say it. He drops himself even lower against you, his thrusts taking on a even harder, more intentional quality.

“I won’t. I promise,” Steve says hoarsely right into your ear, his lips mouthing at the lobe as he does so. “I’ll fuck you right, baby. You’ll see. You’ll never have to ask again.”

You spasm in his arms shortly after Steve makes that promise to you. He’s not far behind, especially not with the way you cry out his name like is both a prayer and and answer to one. He spills into your still quaking walls with a guttural groan that you do your best to swallow, somehow not satiated by the sex alone. You need to consume Steve’s being.

~*~

What comes after shouldn’t be your favorite part, but somehow it is. It’s the part where Steve holds you in his arms, sweaty and still shaking a little. Kisses pepper your temples and his breath fans over your face. After a while, a comedically timed stomach growl reminds you both that neither of you have eaten, so you finally stumble out to the kitchen, naked and draped over one another, to eat a meal.

It’s the part later in the evening where you try to suck Steve’s cock while watching tv, but he won’t let you because he won’t let the mother of his child bruise her knees (he’ll change his tune in a few weeks but it’s cute for now). Instead he drags you back to bed for the night and makes you cum on his tongue before fucking you once more and ensuring you have the heaviest sleep you’ve had in months.

It’s the part the next morning where you wake up with still a few hours to go before Eddie brings your daughter back from Joyce and Hopper’s. Where you wake up to your husband wrapped around you, his morning wood tucked between your thighs. This time you don’t hesitate in initiating yourself. Taking what you both want. Steve’s moans score your morning beautifully, while his cum paints the canvas of your belly and your face wears a self satisfied grin.

Your favorite part is having quiet cups of coffee in the kitchen. Holding hands as you wait for the toast to pop up. Reading the morning paper and handing Steve the comics section without having to be asked. Reaching a hand out to fluff his hair fondly when he reads out the most ridiculous panels.

Your favorite part is when Eddie brings your daughter back and you get to watch the light in Steve’s eyes magnify as he picks her up in his arms. He coos at her and she smiles and you sweat you ascend to heaven.

Eddie lingers in the doorway after Steve hoists the diaper bag and brings his precious cargo into the living room.

“So are you all…satisfied?” Eddie asks uncomfortably. You punch him in the shoulder but you’re unable to hide the massive smile on your face.

“Yes. Yes I am, thank you,” you reply, completely genuine. Eddie grins back at you, squeezing your hand.

“I’m happy for you, slut.”

You’re about to reply when you both freeze, surprised by a loud voice coming from the living room.

“EDWARD MUNSON, IF YOU CALL MY WIFE A SLUT ONE MORE TIME!”

~*~

-

—

—-

——

——-

I hope you enjoyed! Please comment and reblog to let me know, thanks for reading!

[amongusmpreg]

Why are you so cheesy pilled

ok, well honestly this is something i’ve been meaning to get off my chest.

1. Meeting your soulmate

2. Going to your friend's weddings

3. Stargazing

4. Food

5. Going to every country

6. Nice smelling candles

7. Music

8. Concerts

9. The people that love you.

10. Snowball fights

11. Going to the beach

12. Sunsets

13. Sunrises

14. Hiking in Forests

15. Dogs and Cats and Pets

16. New movies

17. Old movies

18. Going to the drive in theatre

19. Walking through local markets

20. Your favorite artists next song

21. Drawing

22. Sculpting your own pots

23. Birthdays

24. Inside jokes with your friends

25. That special persons laugh

26. Warm houses on cold days

27. Bonfires with smores

28. Reconnecting with old friends

29. Smelling flowers

30. Soft plushies

31. The smell of fresh baked cookies

32. Kareoke

33. Sleepovers

34. Your favorite videogame

35. Learning a new language

36. Long walks on the beach

37. Seeing every ocean

38. Squishy bunnies

39. Going to the store to smell perfumes

40. Long hot showers

41. Tea/ coffee

42. Seeing rainbows

43. Helping wounded animals

44. Bath bombs

45. Cleaning the Earth

46. Getting married

47. Going to see brodway shows

48. The sound of rain

49. Long car rides

50. Going on a train

51. Memes

52. Going to the zoo

53. Looking at funny art

54. The smell of old books

55. Butterflies

56. Collecting shells

57. Color

58. Sending letters

59. Surprise parties

60. Warm sheets

61. Reading

62. Swimming in the pool at night

63. Going to diners with friends

64. Early morning runs

65. Looking at old photos

66. Going to a museum

67. Soft sweaters

68. Glitter

69. Going to the aquarium

70. Hugs

71. Making snow angels

72. Holidays

73. Home cooked meals

74. Roller coasters

75. Decorating for parties

76. Playing pranks on friends

77. Dancing

78. Singing in the shower

79. Seeing your favorite animal in person

80. Meeting your hero

81. Bubble wrap

82. Ice water on hot days

83. Poetry

84. Trying on funny clothes

85. Hanging out with friends

86. City skylines

87. Wearing your favorite color

88. Beautiful wildlife

89. Collecting stickers

90. Making some ones day

91. Laughing so hard you can't breath

92. Warm blankets fresh from the dryer

93. Sewing

94. Seeing the future

95. Late night convos

96. Rewatching your favorite show

97. Blowing Bubblegum

98. Boardgames

99. Sitting out in the rain

100. Bubbles

101. Cooking new thing

102. Bob Ross tutorials

103. Picnics

104. Tire swings

105. Old architecture

106. Reading books

107. Growing your own food

108. Clear skies

109. Baking things you love

110. Finding new hobbies

Wowwwww, you meow like a cat! That means you are one, right? Shut the fuck up. If you really want to be put on a leash and treated like a domestic animal then that’s called a fetish, not “quirky” or “cute”. What part of you seriously thinks that any part of acting like a feline establishes a reputation of appreciation? Is it your lack of any defining aspect of personality that urges you to resort to shitty representations of cats to create an illusion of meaning in your worthless life? Wearing “cat ears” in the shape of headbands further notes the complete absence of human attribution to your false sense of personality, such as intelligence or charisma in any form or shape. Where do you think this mindset’s gonna lead you? You think you’re funny, random, quirky even? What makes you think that acting like a fucking cat will make a goddamn hyena laugh? I, personally, feel extremely sympathetic towards you as your only escape from the worthless thing you call your existence is to pretend to be an animal. But it’s not a worthy choice to assert this horrifying fact as a dominant trait, mainly because personality traits require an initial personality to lay their foundation on. You’re not worthy of anybody’s time, so go fuck off, “cat-girl”.

[miko-mik]

OK so to answer your question, maybe first meeting like at a gala or an event were they connect through some common interest.

I don't even know if this is a prompt itself so I apologise 😅 hope it's what you need

The stars in your eyes

Hi! I hope I did your request justice and this was what you were hoping for? I really wanted to try hard since this is my first haikyuu fanfic that I’ve written in a while. (Sorry if there are mistakes I haven’t written for Tendo before) I I’m taking requests so here is my Fandoms list

Notes: They both already had a crush on each other, Enjoy!! (Reblogs are appreciated!)

Word count:2,616

The ear-numbing tunes faded into the background as the clicks of the ladies heels along the dance floor blocked it out, you watched as they were spun around then swiftly pulled back into the warm embrace of their suitors. A part of you longing to be in the shoes of the women as they spun out again.

You had been in the far edge of the ballroom for most of the night, after you had managed to convince your mother to let you from her side. You placed yourself specifically in the dark corners so she wouldn’t spot you and take your ear off scolding you.

Your family was known to throw extravagant yet loud balls, all to flash their wealth while keeping an innocent smile to their faces. Expecting you to do the same. You weren’t much for parties, not so much the idea of it and more what it came with.

The smell of alcohol and perfume constant, laughter from every corner making you wonder what could be so funny that the laughter never ended. The tight and exposing dresses that attracted unwanted attention.

The dresses alone were admirable at times, tonight it was a long red corset dress made of silk with gold trimmings.

Paired with heels that were recently gifted to you by your mother to celebrate you now being skillful in horse riding. You hair tucked into a bun with pined in jewels lining all of it.

You looked beautiful, you had to admit the dressing up part of balls wasn’t something you hated. Just the bold men who couldn’t consider themselves shameful.

You’d already had the dishonor crushing the hopes of some of the few men who had tried to come up to you. All with the same smug smile and boring conversations.

You’d forced yourself to bite your tongue as you acted interested in whatever the men spoke of, giving a cheeky grin here and there or a forced laugh.

Each failed attempt to flirt only made the whole thing insufferable as you knew in the end they didn’t have any intentions of really knowing you, just trying to make proposals they’d never complete or deals you knew would only come back to screw you.

After a while it seemed the previous men had started to whisper about you, you could tell by the way they’d try and sneak a message to the ears of any other gentleman who seemed to want to walk up to you. You knew they thought they were angering you or that you’d feel embarrassed.

But you couldn’t be happier, finally left to your own thoughts to sip on your drink and let the voices and laughters of guests fill your ears. Left to admire the decorations that hung from every wall, not a disappointment in sight. You’d think that would be the end of men walking up to you that was until you spotted a familiar red head.

He had untamed spiked red hair, always seeming to hold a child-like grin to his face. This night it had been noticeably small. He wore black dress pants with a matching suit and white shirt, his tie which was striped with white and black hung loosely around his neck.

Not too much of a surprise to you.

You knew the boy well, he went by Tendo . He was new to the palace, assigned as one of the guards who protected you personally so he got to be around him a lot, sometimes passing by him in the halls and deciding to make small talk or sneaking into each others room to keep company late at night. It was like he always had something to share with you, wether it was something as simple as an animal he’d found roaming around the castle ground or complains he had about his line of work. There wasn’t a moment where he didn’t entertain you.

He came to you with his usual smile, and as he did you felt your face soften. The tension in your shoulders seeming to subside.

“You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself princess, something wrong?” He said a teasing tone hidden behind his words of worry. He came closer now standing beside you as you both kept your eyes on the dance floor.

“Is it that obvious?” You questioned letting a light chuckle slip through your lips, you noticed as he turned his head to stare at you before turning forward once more.

He nodded his head. “I honestly thought you’d cut my head off if I got too close to you, did you know that you’re staring daggers into everyone?”

You was a little surprised to hear his words, making you realize the error of your ways. You used your free hand to rub your face slightly, blinking a few times before dragging the ghost of your smile back to your face.

“Is this better?” You turned to him only to be met by looming eyes above you, you felt a warmth in your face as his gaze never left you. His eyes following every movement your features made, he didn’t say anything only reaching his hands up and stopping in front of your face.

“May I?” It was odd, his voice felt smoother a little lower than the high pitched squeals you were used too. Yet you nodded.

He smiled grazing his hand across your cheek. “Relax your face” he requested and you did, you kept eye contact. Feeling yourself drowning out in his dark red eyes. He massaged your face slightly in areas, under your eyes, above your brows, anything to relax your features. Soon pulling at the corners of your lips to present an upward smile which didn’t stay for long as you soon grew flustered.

Turning your head away from his soft touch to hide your face, he only laughed in return, positioning his hands back at his sides now leaning against the wall a little. “See that’s better” he teased at you some more, maybe wanting to bring your smile out in other ways.

You took a deep breath, trying to get the warmth of your cheeks to fade away before looking back at him. “Sure” you started then as you noticed an awkward silence about the fall between the two of you, you added on. “Why are you here anyways? I’d thought you of all people would want to be on the dance floor”

You meant your words to be taken lightly so the two of you could share a laugh, yet not noise came out of him. His mouth no longer curved into a cartoonish grin, his brows lowered. His eyes fell to the ground, you watched as he parted his mouth to speak only to swallow whatever words he was going to spill back down his throat. “Did something happen?” You reached your hand out, laying it on his forearm.

He glanced down at your hand on his arm, letting a sigh out before lifting his head to look at something. You trailed his eyes, seeing the crowd of ladies around the dance floor. Laughing and pointing out suitors together.

“I tried to dance, but I was rejected before I could even make a proper proposal. Something about me looking too much like a creep” your heart broke hearing his tone, it was low and almost sounded like he was muttering some of his words. To not let his hear how the words of those ladies had effected him.

You knew people found him odd, sometimes he stuck out in the crowd like a sore thumb. Yet when you met him he never seemed as people had described him. But he was not intimidating nor a mess, he was teasing yes but he never went past the line. Always finding a way to creep a smile back to your face, constantly finding a way to make sure there aren’t dull moments when your with him. He was cheerful, a glowing beam of light that shines through on dark days. His hair wasn’t the only bright thing about him nor the only thing you noticed about him. He was caring for the people around him, he took his job seriously even with the small remarks he’d make about it. If it wasn’t you he’d be joking around with then it’d be the green haired male he seemed the closest too or the tall blonde he always seemed to find a way to irritate. He was a lovable person in all.

“They don’t know what their talking about, you creepy? I can’t understand such a thought” you finally spoke, slicing through the silence with your voice.

“Would you have danced with me?” He was quick to respond, making you think he’d had those words sitting at the top of his tongue for too long.

“In a heart beat Tendo, without a doubt” at the sound of his name he looked at you, you saw the tide of sadness that once swallowed him fade into nothing but slow waves. And though your words brought him comfort you knew it was only a matter of time before the tides came to wash him away.

You retrieved your hand from his arm, holding it out. Palms facing him, he was confused for a second but he didn’t waste time placing his hand on yours. Interlocking his fingers with yours as if it were natural. “Trust me” you spoke only that before putting your glass on the tray of a server that had just passed.

You stayed close to the walls as you led him through the crowd of voices and stares, making sure he never fell too far behind you. You tried your best not to be seen by your parents or any guards who’d stop you. He didn’t speak, yet every time you gave him a glance you saw a familiar grin dancing along his face.

You soon made it outside, the melody coming from inside still not too quiet.

“Where are you taking me?” He finally spoke up as you continued to lead him.

It was calmer out here, the wind blew. Twirling through the branches of the cherry blossoms trees, the cold winter air blew against your exposed skin. But it’d be worth it in the end. “You’ll see, don’t you trust me?” Now you were the one teasing him, shooting him a snarky smirk.

“I do, I just hope your not planning on burying me out here. I will be found Y/n” he chuckled causing you to turn your head to give an unserious glare.

“If I wanted to get rid of you, I wouldn’t do it myself” he didn’t speak more after that, letting a breathy echo of laughter spin out into the night sky.

The slows tunes lower in volume as you both walked, the sound of your footwear clicking along the rough stone walk way. Crickets chirping as you walked past, the once harsh wind now subject to a light breeze.

Once you saw your destination you went slower, allowing Tendou to catch up so he walked beside you. In the horizon stood a  field of flowers. White, orange, red, green and purple all glowed under the moon light.

You came to a stop before path ended and you almost stepped into the grass, looking up at the now hypnotized Tendou. His eyes following the wind as it blew through the flowers in a elegant motion.

“Do you like it?” You asked snapping him from his thoughts, you looked at him as you finally had his attention . A mixture of shock and amazement staring back at you.

“Why are we here?” As he spoke you slipped your hands from his, a sneaky smile finally showing itself onto your face.

You didn’t answer at first, taking a step forward and leaving him to watch as you walked into the field. Not caring if your dress dragged along the mess of grass or if your heels clung onto dirt with each of your steps. It was worth it for him.

You turned around once finally getting into a spot further in the field, gazing at his surprised expression. You signaled him to come closer and he did, mouth parted slightly, brows lifted and eyes stuck in a wide look.

Once he was just inches away from you, you held out your hand. “Would you do me the honor of dancing with me?” Even with the flustering warmth in your face you didn’t shy away, you watched as his eyes softened. His cheeks forming a tint of red and pink, the corners of his lips no longer fighting and curling into a familiar grin. He stepped closer, taking your hand once more. The two of your face barely inches away, his hands on your waist. Your hands on his shoulders, the two of your faces almost one. Almost. His gaze traced you out as if you were a sketch. As if he was an artist with a paint brush, stroking away at a canvas to create the perfect portrait. He didn’t look away, and though his bottom lip trembled slightly and his face had gone all shades of red. He looked at you.

All you heard were his flustered breaths hitting your skin like clouds, the gentle music of the ballroom which found it’s way to surround the two of you. The beating of your heart in your chest, a constant pounding that felt as if it’d explode. You wanted him to say something, not just look at you. The silence felt like a death trap, the longer his lips didn’t move the more you tortured yourself with thoughts. Had you done too much? We’re you too close to him? Did he want this?

Finally his lips parted and he spoke. “Y/n” at the sound of your name spoken with his voice you felt a shiver go down your spin. “Thank you….you didn’t have too” his voice trailed a little when he last spoke, his eyes becoming glossy but nothing fell.

“I wanted to show you that you deserve a dance, you are not what they say you are Tendo. You could never be, not in my eyes” you saw as he bit down on his lips. “Let’s dance” he nodded, closing his eyes for a second as he started to lead. The both of you following the music as you both moved forwarded and back, left to right. The both of you becoming one.

Soon you came to a stop and so did he when he realized, you eyes moving from his lips to his eyes and it was as if he could sense your intentions. Leaning in towards you, and with no words you pressed your lip’s against his. The both of your heads and lips moving together like melody. It was kiss after kiss, the heat you felt running through your body as you didn’t wish to pull away from his soft lips. He held you still by the waist, deepening the kiss when he saw fit.

You both pulled back to catch a breath, a fit of laughter breaking out as his face looking like a tomato. He let you laugh for a little before shutting you up with another kiss. “It’s not funny” he whispered when he finally pulled away.

“You should see your face right now” you answered giggling.

“I’d say you should see your face as well but I don’t want to take away from my view” the breath from his chuckle danced along your skin as the two of you began to move as one again.

Under the night sky, under the stars, and under his loving gaze.

@natdu

[jodilin65]

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 30, 1990 Boy, is having a roommate ever going to take some getting used to! 2 or 3 years ago I’d jump at the chance to have a good, decent, honest roommate such as Andy. And you know how compatible and how much alike we are. Lately, though, I’ve been wanting to spend more and more time alone. The desire for company and for going out places is vanishing like running water down a drain. The desire to have a lover and a baby is also being flushed down the toilet. At first, I was beginning to think something was wrong with me but I now think it’s just a case of my not wanting any bullshit.

As far as a lover’s concerned, like with Brenda for example, I know I’m a decent person, I don’t hate myself, but at the same time, I feel I’m not good enough for her. I don’t want to be with someone and have to be constantly asking myself, did I do or say something wrong? Also, I don’t want to have to worry about her or anyone else not understanding me. I know and understand myself and that’s enough. What others don’t know or understand won’t hurt them. All I want is casual sex here and there. Of course, that’ll be once a lifetime cuz I’m so picky and don’t go to bars and cuz there are so few feminine ones. I have my fantasies, though, which are the most fulfilling.

Later…

I fell asleep near 6:00 this morning only to wake up at 10:00, so I do need to try to sleep more.

Also, I’m psyched for New Year’s Eve tonight as I realize I’ve got 3 more years till fame and fortune and you know I’m right with my premonitions and predictions. Speaking of those, I’ve been having more and more. Bizarre ones too that kind of freaked me out a bit. One night Brenda and I were lying in bed when I just came out and said, “Someone lost money.” She said yes, a guy in CVS. I said it was a $20 bill and she said yes it was and a lady picked it up for him.

Another thing was, a few days before December I predicted we’d have a major snowstorm on December 28th. I was right.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 24, 1990 Andy will be moving in next Saturday and storing his furniture at his old house which his brother owns. Starting tomorrow, he’s going to be bringing shit over here and there.

Ma doesn’t know, so she’ll continue paying the part of the rent she pays. She’s been a major bitch to me and was incredibly rude to both Andy and me over the phone when we spoke to her about Phoenix. She really pisses me off. Especially when last year she said she’d help financially with the move to Arizona and agreed with us as far as our reasons for moving, and now she wants nothing to do with it. I bet her anger has to do with good old Miss Jennifer C and other members of this sick family which me and Andy harassed to death over the phone, but if I receive any subpoenas, I’m not going to court.

I have not smoked since yesterday, the 23rd at 2:30 AM. It’s been 28½ hours.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 9, 1990 Brenda and I went to Tammy’s today and I got the upright vacuum I’ve been wanting from Mom and Dad, and Tammy and Bill and the kids gave me a gorgeous necklace with matching earrings and another pair of earrings and some perfume.

Tammy was upset cuz she could sense something was wrong with me and at first, I wouldn’t talk to her. I explained to her how I broke up with Brenda cuz I’m so used to being alone and I felt I wasn’t stable enough for her. I told her that cuz I’m a night person and I don’t have a bigger sex drive and I’m not calm 24/7 I felt I wasn’t good enough. Tammy says every relationship I get into I run scared when a person gets too close. She also says my past has affected me badly and that I’m too negative. I told her I didn’t feel I was pushing Brenda away and that I felt I was doing her a favor. I also told her that I felt I was being practical, not negative. After being alone for 25 years it’s too hard to jump into a relationship and I no longer care to put the effort into a relationship and have to deal with trying to communicate and compromise with the person. Also, I never was overwhelmed in a good way by Brenda and I’ll never have anyone I am overwhelmed by. What good would it do me anyway, to have a person I’m overwhelmed by? All they’d do is dump me. Either that or I’ll get someone I’ll end up dumping.

Andy will be moving in within the next two weeks so we can save money and move to Phoenix.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 4, 1990 Do I get snow for my b-day? No, of course not. Instead, it’s raining cats and dogs out there.

About half an hour ago Tammy called. At 7:30 Brenda called. Oh, by the way, Brenda and I are just friends now. At 5:30, Andy called as he couldn’t sleep either. I’ve been awake now for 16 hours. I need to go to Food Fart desperately, but can’t till noon, and I don’t think I can hold out till then. I just don’t feel like going to bed, though. Oh, what the heck? I’ll sleep for a few hours. Not too many cuz I have therapy tomorrow.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 2, 1990 Well, two more days and here comes a b-day I sure as hell thought I’d never see. A quarter of a century. I get smarter and more talented and more experienced with each year, but all in all, I still feel the same as when I was 10 or 15 or 20. Despite my lungs, that is, but today I don’t feel quite so bad. Of course, it was kind of miraculous I even made it to my 18th birthday with all the shit that I went through what with jumping out the window, overdosing, and other people trying to kill me physically or mentally.

Well, although I won’t have my foot in the door with the fame and fortune till 1994, as my vibes tell me, I have a feeling that 1991 is going to be a special year for me in a different, but very good way. I’m 100% sure now about smoking, but there’s other stuff scheduled. I’m not going to be so cursed anymore. The shit that happened to my lungs wasn’t meant to be just cuz of my singing, but it was also maybe a testing period, too. I’ve done my time with survival tests, that’s for sure. No, I do not think 1991 brings a woman I’m overwhelmed by and that’s my ideal type person-wise. That was never meant to be.

[phantasmagoric-acquaintance]

On slow days, Lup’s lunch breaks are typically spent in the sketchy fragrance boutique, distracting Taako from his oh-so-important job of watching people warily sample perfumes and colognes and hoping nobody breaks a bottle because if I have to sweep up glass today, so help me God…

Lately, it seems Lup’s been using this time as an opportunity to ogle the dork who runs the phone accessory kiosk in the middle of the hall from another angle.

She lets out a long, dramatic sigh, and leans back on the counter.

“Jesus, you sound like a tired old dog.” Taako digs his spoon into the cup of Dippin’ Dots she’d brought for him.

“He’s just so cute,” she insists, like a teenaged schoolgirl. “Don’t you think he’s cute? Look at him.”

Taako looks at him. He looks like a regular dude. “I think you can find five of those at Home Depot.”

“You’re an ass. I think he’s special.”

“Maybe FYE? You could find a man like that at FYE, I bet.”

“No! He’s perfect and there’s only one of him.” Lup turns and dips her own spoon into Taako’s cup.

“Heyyy, get your own!” Taako whines.

“I just wanted to try the cookie dough. And I paid for it, so technically it is mine.” She slides her own cup across the counter. “Here, you can have a taste of mine.”

Taako pouts. “It’s got your fucking spittle all over it and now mine does, too.”

“Eh, you’ll live.” She turns back, looking across the threshold at the phone accessory man again. “I’m gonna talk to him.”

“And say what? ‘My phone screen is cracked, do you think you can fix it?’”

---

“Do you think you can fix it?”

“Um.” The pretty lady from the Hot Topic levels a strange, intense stare at Barry. The tips of his ears start to burn, and he hopes he’s not flushing. He tries to focus all his energy on her phone, and not on the fact that he’s been crushing on its owner from afar and now she’s looking at him and talking to him and oh, God, don’t fuck this up, Barry.

The screen doesn’t have cracks, so much as it has a few severe scratches. Barry’s certainly used phones in worse condition. “I don’t, um, really do repairs? I mean, I can— I’ve fixed my own phone and stuff, but uh. I’m not really confident enough to, to try to fix someone else’s. Wouldn’t wanna risk making it worse, y’know?”

“…Oh.” Customers are usually disappointed when Barry refuses to do repairs, but something about the lady’s demeanor is different. Barry hands her phone back to her, and she shifts her feet nervously. “Um… so, what kind of cases do you have?”

They’re phone cases. Not much to say. “We have, uh, some that are functional. And others that are pretty. Not many that are both,” he says, and immediately regrets it. It’s not exactly the tightest money-making strategy, downplaying your product, and he’s getting all flustered now and, fuck, he’s not doing a fantastic job of selling himself, either.

But still, the woman walks away with a new phone case, some tacky monstrosity painted with sparkling flames that had made her laugh, and a wink, leaving Barry behind to replay the interaction over-and-over-again in his mind for, at the very least, the rest of the day.

[goxjo]

18+

you were just trying your best to survive—you, an omega who’d been clinically tagged as a ‘special case’ due to your unique pheromones. It took an unfortunate accident, an unmedicated heat, and a set of circumstances that made you realize just how helpless you were.

PAIRING. alpha!diluc x omega f!reader GENRE. smut, cafe + omegaverse!au, hurt/comfort, mutual pining WARNINGS. a/b/o dynamics, boss/employee (dubcon), some yandere themes if you squint, hopeless romantic!reader, HEATS & RUTS, brief mentions of diluc’s canon!trauma, cunnilingus, overstimulation, knotting, marking WORD COUNT. 8800+ AUTHOR'S NOTE. THIS IS LATE but this is the first time I’ve ever written a/b/o so I’m excited (AND nervous) but I had fun writing this so I hope u guys enjoy!!!! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა this is my piece for the @thepetcafe’s first ever collab ♡ ++ special thanks to sol & bwi ( @serablossom ) for beta reading !

♡ NAVI ♡ MAIN M. LIST ♡ COLLAB M. LIST ♡

You were at your doctor’s, waiting in line at the counter as you tried to get refills for your heat suppressants after your backpack got stolen a week ago. You wouldn’t be allowed another refill after this, and you knew the rules too well.

Ever since you presented, your cycles had always been so unpredictable. A month-long cycle every year on paper shouldn’t be so bad, except, not only were your cycles unpredictable, they also occasionally triggered some of the worst cases of ruts in alphas. Even your pre-heat pheromones had an unusual potency to them. Needless to say, it’d caused you so much pain and trouble in the past that it became a huge burden.

After presenting, which felt like an eternity of the ritualistic month-long isolations, you met someone with a very similar case to yours—someone who was very much willing to help a fellow mate-less omega out. She gave you tips on what helps her through cycles, told you about a special laundry detergent and a specific perfume that helped mask an omega’s scent. She specifically gave you tips on how to take care of your personal needs, ironically calling it ‘the cure for the horny™’, and on top of that, she referred you to her personal doctor.

Yours was a ‘special case’ as they called it—not unheard of, but still special. Only, you couldn’t find anything remotely special about unintentionally causing someone’s instincts to go rabid that they lose all rhyme and reason, all for the sake of having a claim on you. You never wanted to go through anything like that again, especially not unaided, and so you took your miracle pills with you wherever you went.

As the pharmacist was about to hand you the bottle, she retreated for a bit, giving you a firm stare and a final word of caution. “No more refills for another year,” she uttered, making sure you heard her every word. Your tense smile told her just how careful you were gonna be as soon as you exited those doors.

Not like you had any other choice. Unless of course you’d be open to substituting these prescription pills for those really cheap over-the-counter ones that barely have an effect at all. Plus, you had just switched to a new job after spending only 4 months at your previous one. What was it again? Something about not wanting to spend another minute trying to evade the noses of your suspecting douchebag superiors.

Unfortunately, labor laws did not permit omegas-in-heat a paid leave of absence, nor a paid sick leave. You weren’t even given so much as a three-day grace period that alphas-in-rut were officially awarded to get everything under wraps.

So usually, your reason for leaving was just you… fearing for your life. But, despite all of your fears, you wanted to at least try to live normally for as long as you could. Of course, you still were fully aware of the fact that you couldn’t keep this up forever, no matter how hard you tried.

To make matters worse, you knew you’d be getting an earful from your friend when you get home.

...

“3 jobs in one year. I give this one 3 months,” said the voice on the other end of the phone call. She was so spot on, you almost dropped the bowl of mash you were mixing. In hindsight, you didn’t have to tell her what happened but you had no one else to phone when you found yourself unemployed... again.

“Amber, I told you. I’m really gonna try to push it to at least 6,” you said, hearing the doubt in your own voice as you tried to convince your friend. “And who knows? Maybe this time… it’s different.”

“It better be. Otherwise, I had to waste the last favor Charles owed me for no good reason. It’s not easy lobbying for a job-hopping omega, you know?”

And she was right. You were running out of options. You had only yourself to fend for but for someone with a poor track record, it was a wonder how you managed to sustain your lifestyle—though, you weren’t sure if you could call living in a one-bedroom apartment, eating two square meals a day, paying your bills almost always on time, and somehow managing to attend to a hobby or two a lifestyle. Everything you did was simply a means of survival.

…

“You don’t have to be so formal with us,” said the man who introduced himself as Charles. He was in the middle of preparing two very different drinks. It was a wonder how he was able to hold a conversation with you. “Also, don’t worry about the dynamics. You’re currently the only omega on our team but we don’t discriminate here. Diluc doesn’t mind so you’ll be alright.”

Some important words there. You couldn’t help but cling onto your little hopes of having a space where you finally belonged.

“Speaking of Diluc…” Not so fast. Of course something like this came with a catch, you assumed. “Better not hear ‘sir’, ‘Mr. Ragnvindr’, ‘boss’, none of those. Call him Diluc. No more, no less.”

Okay, that wasn’t all bad.

“No more, no less,” you repeated, promptly.

“As much as we’d hate to implement this, you know our laws. When it’s that time of the year, we just ask that you stay on the pill.” He sighed as he wiped the very little mess he made on the counter. This told you everyone here was probably held to that standard. ‘Slightly above-average’ work might not even cut it here.

But there it was. The progressive ‘alpha and beta dominated world’s’ boundary-setting that inevitably only came for omegas. “Roger that.”

“Oh, and don’t go anywhere near his office if he tells you not to.”

…

He asked you to wait by the employee’s lounge as you were about to officially meet with your new boss. His very brief introduction made you wonder just what kind of boss Diluc was gonna be. You were open to anything but still, you couldn’t help but be a bit nervous.

Was it this hot when I came in?

You were sweating, which was odd because everyone else seemed fine compared to you. Something in here was keeping you on edge. Must be the first day jitters, you figured. You had your trusty hanky with you to wipe the cold sweat that ran from your temples down to your neck, not missing the sweat that built up on your upper lip, keen on meeting your boss for the first time without a sweat-stache.

“____, he’s ready for you,” greeted the pretty brunette whose name tag read ‘Adelinde’.

The second you opened the door to his office, your eyes immediately trailed along the dark wood furniture and the intricate golden decorative pieces that adorned them. There was an expensive alcohol collection in one corner of the room, with books placed in every which way—some opened, some stacked— beside an owl statue that had a dark and lengthy inscription. The colorful vase seemed out of place.

There were two big windows behind thick curtains that barely let the morning light in, save for the few rays that stretched to where you stood. Your eyes blinked upon the realization that you’d been in that room for a good minute, saying absolutely nothing to the tall figure that stood behind the desk, and you couldn’t help but stare into his eyes—red ones that hardly gave off any emotion.

Only then did you realize that the employees-only sections of the place were masked in his scent, the exact same one that put you on edge ever since you got here—an intoxicating musk that strengthened the closer you got to him. He was an alpha, and this, his territory. Of fucking course he was an alpha and this was the same sick joke the universe had been playing on you ever since you showed.

The universe was that cruel because the alpha that stood in front of you was unlike any other you’d ever seen.

He was in the middle of tying his hair, hair tie secured between his sealed lips, both hands working their way around his heavy red locks. When he was good to go, he took the hair tie from his lips before telling you, “Sit.”

You didn’t know what to expect, but you certainly weren’t prepared for him to be this young, and you never would’ve guessed he’d be this tall, rugged, handsome alpha.

He came over to where you sat, looking down at you as he extended a hand. It took you a second before you came back to your senses, shaking his leather-gloved hand in return. Seemed he wasn’t planning on leveling with you by at least sitting on the chair in front of yours. It would’ve been nice if he didn’t have to make you crane your neck up, because now it was as if your words were stuck behind your throat, and it was getting so much harder to breathe properly.

And from this angle, your mind was being plagued with thoughts you didn’t want to have on your first day on the job—particularly thoughts of how loose his shirt hung on his torso, letting you revel in the dips of his slightly exposed chest.

“It’s nice to meet you, Si—Diluc.” Your heart skipped a beat when you saw how his brows almost immediately furrowed at the title, your mouth opening upon realizing how much you were drawn to the taste of his name rolling off your tongue.

“Welcome to Angel’s Share,” he deadpanned, leaning forward as he crossed his arms together.

He proceeded to kick things off with a few other house rules. You felt tense under his eyes that studied you intently, and you didn’t miss how his eyes trailed down to your lips, heat accumulating in your cheeks as you wondered if you still had that sweat-stache after all.

Any other day, any other alpha, something like this would’ve made you put your guard up. But something about him was making you a tad bit too curious to see how this would pan out, something about him made you nod obediently at his every word like a little puppy who just wanted to exceed his expectations and gain his favor.

To your dismay, your meeting was cut short when Adelinde knocked and entered Diluc’s office, asking for you. As you were about to get up from your seat, Diluc extended his hand out once more, helping you out of your seat. It was a small gesture—mundane from an outsider’s perspective but still, it was as if you wanted his every move to mean something, and you didn’t want to let go of the warm gloved hand that had yours enclasped in it. At the last second, he squeezed your hand before letting it go.

You were in for trouble.

As you got up, the handkerchief that was slightly damp with your sweat left your back pocket after getting snagged by the chair. He picked it up as he called for you, stopping you in your tracks. “You dropped your…”

He took a deep breath, and it must have been your imagination but his eyes and expression definitely changed.

You tried to take it back from him, but his grip was tight.

“Diluc?”

“On second thought… if you need anything, ask Charles,” he said, jaws locking as he handed you your handkerchief back. “Tell him I don’t want to be disturbed. Tell him to lock up tonight. I’ll be out early.”

“O-of course, Diluc,” you muttered, unable to escape the worry that clouded your chest when you wondered if it was anything you said or did. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. You just turned on the ball of your foot and left. “Excuse me.”

“____, wait.”

“Yes?” Your ears perked, the gleam in your eyes making it painfully obvious how you were being overly keen for him despite having just met him.

“Careful.”

…

‘No more refills for another year.’ You recalled the exact words of the woman who handed you your pills, the realization dawning on you that it was the gods’ way of foreshadowing things for you like a never-ending reel of the joke that is your life.

It took one slip—one blackout—one tiny little accident to flush every single pill down the sink.

In your panic, you resolved to keep everything under wraps until it was time for your next cycle—telling nobody, not even your friend in fear of even one slip of the tongue, which could make everything much worse.

You couldn’t just ask for a break when you’d barely started working there. How do you explain this to them? Things at work seemed as if you were getting settled in, too.

You felt it in your core. You woke up irritated, you’d been uncharacteristically clumsy, you had unprompted muscle pain, you had short bouts of breaking into sweat, and the need for friction between your thighs arose more often than before. All the tells were there, and you had no capacity to stop it.

Even so, you wanted to go to work. Who were you kidding? You wanted to be around him and you had your genetic makeup to curse for that.

…

Once or twice. Sometimes more.

As much as you hated it, that was the number of times you saw him in a day. It was usually only when he came in and out, plus the rare occasions he just needed to stop by the counter. You could only wish you’d see more of him, but he seemed like a very private person. At a time like this, his punctuality should be the least of your priorities. It wouldn’t have been any of your business worrying about him if it weren’t for the things you’d been hearing from Moco and Hillie, who were two of the most active gossipers you’d ever known.

“Something tells us you had something to do with it.” It was obviously a joke, but they weren’t joking when they said this was unusual. Still, your stomach churned at the slightest possibility that it might be because of you. To make matters worse, you weren’t emotionally prepared for anything that concerned Diluc, which made it difficult for you to control your expressions. A look of worry took over your face, which only made the two regulars giggle at you for having a little crush on your own boss.

“That’s cute and all, ____, but here’s some advice,” Moco said, both of their expressions turning almost sympathetic for you after sending each other telepathic messages.

“He doesn’t go there, so you should just forget about it,” Hillie added with a look of pity on her face as if there was no other way to put it.

“I don’t go there either, don’t worry,” you said firmly to the two women, but more to yourself really, in a poor attempt to convince yourself at the same time. Still, the hurt didn’t leave the back of your throat. After all, Moco and Hillie’s words were only few among the many signs that you shouldn’t bother with any of your little budding feelings.

And who says you couldn’t admire him from afar? You thought.

Bullshit, countered another thought because who on earth does that like it’s the easiest thing in the world?

But he wasn’t totally absent. He still nodded at you whenever he was around, as if that was something to celebrate. You were surprised you could function well—if ‘well’ meant looking stiff and awkward as hell, heart beating out of your chest—during the rare occasions he stopped by to talk to Charles who was with you behind the counter. You tried to avoid his eyes that were definitely fixed on you, even as he was speaking to Charles about some admin tasks. Your heart frantically skipped so many beats when Charles said the exact words, “Don’t worry about her, she’s doing great.”

Even though Diluc couldn’t be bothered to ask you himself, he was at least asking about you.

You were exhausted by the end of today’s shift, mindlessly rummaging through your locker as you passively changed your clothes one article after another. For the hundredth time, you found yourself staring blankly ahead, wondering about what Moco and Hillie said, despite swearing over and over again that you weren’t gonna let yourself dwell on it.

I should forget about it, huh?

“Forget about what?” Startled, your musings were cut off by someone who came in unannounced and you were made aware of the fact that you’d been practically saying things out loud all this time. Looking over your shoulder, you found Diluc leaning by the door frame. You were suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that you weren’t halfway done with the buttons of your shirt, instinctively clenching the two halves of your shirt together to hide your chest.

“Sorry, I… didn’t know anyone was here.”

You heard him take a few steps forward. His pace was slow, and it was a stark contrast to how fast your heart was beating. You didn’t have it in you to turn to face him now as you were practically in flames out of embarrassment for the thoughts that kept intruding in your head. Say something. Probe for answers. Break the ice. Something. ANYTHING—anything to relieve the room of the heavy feeling that you swore was one-sided.

“Say, ____.” You heard his deep husk right behind you, forcing you to take a deep breath, swallowing a chunk of saliva as you let him go on.

“D-did you need something?”

“Are you being careful like I asked you to?” He said, running the back of his gloved fingers behind you, quickly withdrawing his hand right as it was about to reach the small of your back. You held your breath when you heard the leather crumple in his hand as he balled it into a fist. He sighed. “Well?”

“Yeah, I always watch where I step,” after a deep breath, you lightly joked, elbows lowering while you slowly went on with the remaining buttons of your top. Clearly, he wasn’t here for any of the possible reasons that popped into your head. But realizing how unresponsive he’d been, you turned to look at his expression, only to find that he wasn’t laughing at your little joke.

Though you normally wouldn’t dare to ask, you went ahead with it anyway. After all, how many times was he gonna come to you like this?

“What’s all this about? You can... tell me,” you muttered, reverting your gaze back to your painfully uninteresting locker after getting caught off guard with the thought that this could be something that you two shared. Like an inside thing or a secret of some sort.

But he didn’t say anything. Instead, you felt a finger smooth your hair off your shoulder, leather tracing along both the clothed and exposed parts of your skin before he slowly went in to bury his face in the crook of your neck, taking a deep whiff of your scent. Like the little, obedient puppy you were, you craned your head back at the last contact, your own hand reaching for his own that was gingerly trailing your sides before stopping at your stomach.

You should’ve just let things take their natural course. After being touch-starved for so long, this was the first contact you had welcomed—the very first one you’d actually wanted... only to ruin it by opening your little mouth. Not like it was your fault but you just had to call out his name, didn’t you?

That alone broke whatever moment you two had. Not a minute sooner, Diluc was already shaking it off, regaining his usual composure—a skill that you could only dream of having.

“Sorry,” he said, brows furrowed and eyes refusing to meet yours, barely giving you enough time to prepare for what he said after that.

“Be careful of things like that.”

Before you knew it, your heart already sank, preventing you from saying anything further. He left you hanging, just like that, and you realized that this was probably what Moco and Hillie were talking about.

Be careful of you, you mean?

…

After your dreaded little encounter, you knew you had no other choice but to be civil with him. But for you, ‘civil’ meant that you’d be trying other—much simpler—ways to keep him happy, finally admitting that you weren’t exactly the smartest when it came to matters like this. All of it was ironic for you, an omega who’d always avoided all sorts of biologically-related confrontations, meeting someone you’d practically be willing to take anything from—even the slightest hint of affection.

Most days, ‘civil’ merely meant not getting in his way.

Today, it meant performing slightly above average at work—saying yes to every one of Charles’ requests, volunteering to do this or that in someone else’s stead, even offering to stay much longer to close up for Charles who said he was needed somewhere else.

You opened the door to Diluc’s office, eyes navigating for the keys Charles told you you needed for lock-up. But the lights were out, curtains shutting out what would’ve been a nice view of the late night scenery, and so you could barely see anything—until the light from the hallway shone on the figure by the desk and you had to take a step back. His scent was all over the place. You walked in on his bare back facing you, shoulders raised and the muscles of his back tensed while he bowed his head down, fingers digging into the dark wood, the veins on his arm prominent as his hands were propped against his desk.

Animal.

You shouldn’t be here. You should’ve let Charles take care of it, but no, you had to try and take initiative, as you had said it earlier. To make a good impression on Diluc, to have an excuse to enter his office again, to try and mask yourself in his scent the only way you thought possible. Instead, you got more than what you bargained for. You saw the primal intensity in his gaze, one that mimics a predator looking at the prey who got lured by its carnal state. But it was as if he didn’t want you there, eyes telling you that you definitely should not have been there.

“Get out.”

…

Was it too much to ask for a simple hello, a smile, or even a nod of acknowledgment? Maybe for someone like Diluc, it was. After all, you practically barged in on what was probably something he didn’t want others in on. He rarely came in after that incident, even more than his former already-scarce appearances, rarely speaking to anyone at all. To top it all off, the walls were thin enough for people like Moco and Hillie, who barely made the effort to tone down their little lunch break discussions in the employee’s lounge. That night, they saw him and then they saw you come out of the locker rooms, different kinds of alarms ringing in both your faces. At least it wasn’t that other night.

Now, he was certainly avoiding you. He made sure you knew of that when he came in the other day, speaking to Charles and Adelinde about some important matters, sending a nod to every employee-that-isn’t-you’s way. When you tried to block his way as he headed for the exit, he walked right past you, not even sparing you so much a glance.

You had no right to feel bad about it when you had intruded on something that no one was supposed to see. How were you supposed to mean anything to him now? Before you came here, this was what you wanted, right? For an alpha to completely disregard your anatomy. For an alpha to let you be. For you to be completely free from harm’s way.

Must also be your dangerously close cycle, you thought. But whether it was just your hormones acting up, or something else, the hurt was definitely there.

…

It had been a while since he acknowledged your existence. If there was anything you were grateful for, it was your ability to not let your troubles affect your work ethic—for this particular job, at least. Maybe you still hoped he’d see it as some sort of penance for what you had done.

You could say you had better days, but you couldn’t complain about today, either. Your current shift was light, mostly consisting of just manning the counter, minimal kitchen prep, and just putting up a smile for every Tom, Dick, and Harry that came in. Except, one particular Tom had been sending you looks ever since he came in. To be more specific, an alpha called Thoma. You recalled catching a whiff of him when he said his name over at the counter, not passing up the opportunity to tell you how much prettier you looked when you smiled.

He called you to his table to tell you there was something wrong with his drink, handing it back to you with a smug expression you couldn’t make anything out of. The tips of his index finger tapped rhythmically on his manspread legs, and you were particularly wary of the smile he wore despite telling you you’d messed up his order.

“Is everything okay?” He leaned in closer to the table, elbows propping before telling you, “You forgot to write your number on my cup.”

Oh.

You supposed he meant no harm. He was cute, even. This made you think of how long it’d been since you had actually been with someone.

You should bite. It’s been so long. You deserve this.

These were the thoughts that filled your little horny head, but one particular thought intruded your hormone-driven musings— the thought of Diluc finding out you went out with someone else, some random alpha despite practically threatening you to be careful. The thought of it alone bothered you so much. At a time like this. When he himself couldn’t be bothered to spare you more than just a glance or a collective greeting to the crew that included you. Even telling you outright to get out of his office. Telling the whole crew to never again come in unannounced, all the while knowing that that was directed at you, especially.

Fuck.

“I-I—sorry, it’s—shit!” Inappropriate, you were about to say, except someone accidentally elbowed the cup you were holding, spilling its contents on your apron, which unfortunately didn’t spare your shirt from getting soaked as well.

Gasps were heard all around followed by a silence that surrounded the cafe. You turned around and saw all eyes were on you.

Thoma, on the other hand, was quick to come to your rescue. From behind you, he rushed to pat your shirt dry with the napkin that was on his table. He kept at it until he got close enough to catch on your budding scent, something that was potent enough to stop his movements. You knew too well what that meant as you felt the sudden rise in your body temperature. You turned to look at him, and all of a sudden, there was a stark switch in his gaze, eyes half-lidded and dark with desire, his hands pressing harder on the small of your back and your stomach.

Your heart was in a frenzy. You found yourself in the same position you were in the last time it came unexpectedly. It had happened time and time again, and you saw no way out of this vicious cycle.

“P-please,” your voice trembled and your heart thudded in your chest. Recognizing your own panic, you unwittingly tried to talk your way out of this. “Don’t do anything, I—”

“Take your hands off her.”

The sound of his voice caused your heart to drop. You were on top of the mess that caused the two alphas to look at each other head-on, both of them menacing and unwilling to back down. Everyone else was on edge, but for the two of them, it seemed that no one else was in the room except for the three of you.

Diluc grabbed your hand, pulling you to his side without ever turning his gaze away from the blonde alpha who had just taken his supposed prey from him. But this wasn’t his territory, and he knew that too well as he was the first to lower his shoulders, averting his gaze albeit grudgingly.

It took five, maybe less, seconds of what felt like an eternity for Thoma to completely back down. “I’ll leave you to it,” he growled, taking one last threatening look at Diluc, then you, before heading towards the exit.

“Get changed,” the man beside you uttered.

What?

“My office. I have clothes in one of the closets.”

Oh.

In your attempts to process whatever the fuck just happened, you lost track of what had caused it in the first place. Still, it was heartbreaking how despite the little show he’d put on, he refused to meet your eyes even as he addressed you.

“I warned you, remember?” he growled, his breaths labored as you recognized the threats in his voice, his eyes staring directly into the now-empty chair where Thoma sat. “I told you to be careful. Why couldn’t you just listen to me?”

He did all of that, and for what? Helped you out of your little situation, and for what? At that, you broke away from his hold, trying your hardest not to look in the eyes of the people who watched you intently as you strided to his office.

Your back hit the door as soon as you closed it behind you, making you release all the breath you’d been holding throughout the two alphas’ heated exchange. You hadn’t realized you were holding back your tears as well until you welled up, choking on your own sobs.

You discarded your apron and your shirt in some corner of his office, hugging your knees close to your body as you attempted to recall the events that lead up to this point.

It was a fucking pre-heat. Something as mundane-sounding as that shouldn’t affect you to this extent, but it did. You couldn’t possibly stay to see what would happen if you started your actual cycle.

Your crying was cut short when you caught a whiff of something that came from one of Diluc’s drawers. Without instructing it, your body acted on its own accord, weight transferring from one foot to the other as you scurried off to find out what it was.

It was a used sweater—his sweater. And it was definitely not what Diluc was talking about when he told you to get changed.

You were here again, you realized. The same place where Diluc didn’t want you to be until he told you otherwise. Your mind was unable to process anything further than that, especially when you had no other thoughts except for the intoxicating scent that came from his sweater, rubbing the soft garment across your cheek. Suddenly, you felt weak in the knees, forcing you to take the nearby couch as you felt it come—the added smell of your nectar on top of the burning sensation pooling at your core, and you all but fought the urge to pleasure yourself in the same space that likely wasn’t meant for the likes of you to soil. Then came the tears again. You had no way to handle this alone, but you couldn’t ask for help from anyone anymore.

You couldn’t trust your body even more, especially now that it constantly grieved over your neglect of its primal needs. Your body was literally begging for scraps of affection from someone who outright made you feel unwelcome, and despite that, your body tingled over the possibility of him wanting you for you. He could barge in here any minute now and you’d happily offer yourself up to him. But not if you could help it.

Before anything else happened, you wore what you could and ran for the back exit, running past the handful of employees who immediately threw their head backs at the stench you were giving off. You had to get away from this place and your heart sank for how soon it took for you to break, but you couldn’t look back. If that was the case, why did you have to take his sweater with you?

…

You never showed your face again at work. You ignored every single call that came your way. You were fucking AWOL despite it only being over two months since you started. At this point, you had neither the wits nor the drive to even think about what you were gonna do once all of this is over.

To say this was a bad cycle was an understatement. This was by far the longest heat you’d ever had, and by far the most difficult to control. Two weeks in and it didn’t even feel like it had neared its peak. Nothing seemed to work—not porn, not every single toy you owned, not humping yourself dry on your pillow. You supposed this was because it was the first heat you’d had after medicating for so long. It was no surprise your first unmedicated heat post was at an all-time high.

The only source of relief you had was the piece of clothing you took as a memento of your short-lived hope. Of course, it was Diluc’s sweater that was outstretched and wrung with crescents left by your fingernails, despite trying your absolute best to treat it with care as if it were your own lifeline. Unfortunately, scents inevitably dissipated over time. That should’ve been a good thing, because one day you would have nothing left to be reminded of him. Except, you dreaded the mere thought of that.

The faint scent was enough to make your orgasms at the very least tolerable, enough to the point where you were able to calm for about a solid half-hour until the need to cum arose again. But the lingering scent wasn’t enough to satisfy the uncomfortable coil within your core, temperature rising the more you held onto the garment.

Your eyes were burning, vision blurred with your own tears from the overthinking when you suddenly heard a rhythmic knocking on your door. Although you had since made it your resolve to stay holed up, miserable in your apartment, ignoring every sign of life outside your creaky walls, the knocking was persistent enough to get you on your feet. You didn’t bother to cover yourself up properly, instead opting to use your comforter as a makeshift gown.

“Woah,” said the man standing outside your door, icy blue eyes widening before he involuntarily took a step back as soon as you opened your door.

“Sorry, didn’t mean for that to come off rudely.” He chuckled after what sounded to be an honest yet insincere apology if you’d ever heard one. “The name’s Kaeya.”

A beta, one of the lucky ones, and a pretty one at that.

“I—what’re you…”

“If you’ve got any questions, feel free to shoot ‘em along the way. Now hurry and take whatever you need.”

Someone was clearly getting the wrong idea. If you were to guess, he likely didn’t understand the gravity of your own situation, what with you hiding your bare burning body behind the thick comforter you’d been holed up in for the last two weeks. Whether he didn’t understand or he simply didn’t care had no bearing whatsoever. The situation was strange no matter how you tried to look at it and you weren’t stupid enough to believe some random stranger.

“Relax, I won’t hurt you.” Kaeya seemed to pick up on your resolve, taking a deep breath before giving out a few more details on why he insisted on kidnapping you. “I came here for you because of that guy, now he owes me… guy’s none other than the young master himself, Diluc,” he snickered.

Questions popped in your head left and right but before you could come up with answers to any of them, Kaeya already grabbed your keys and locked the door behind you. Before you knew it, he was wrapping your comforter tight around you, arm circling your weak body, hands holding your elbows up as he guided you towards the exit, heading to his car.

He warned away any unsuspecting eyes that came your way. Blue eyes threatening and aura too menacing for someone with make-up that was supposed to be the more ‘neutral’ of the types. Curious thing was, everything he did seemed almost too natural for him, as if it were routine. But you didn’t think to ask questions. Save them for another time, perhaps? After all, you had enough problems of your own.

“Oh, just—try to uhm... hold out until we get there.” As if that advice was of any use to you.

…

“That old thing’s still there?” You probably shouldn’t have brought it up but you needed to distract yourself from your perverse needs. Kaeya’s face scrunched up into a cringe, his grip on the wheel tightening briefly. But he was probably internally thrilled to hear about the ‘weird-looking’ vase in Diluc’s office. To even be able to talk about Diluc with someone else was a release you never knew you needed. Kaeya was just disgustingly proud to talk about why he gave that vase to Diluc in the first place saying it was like a ‘welcome back’ thing, but it was another story for another time. And finally, some things about Diluc were adding up.

“I knew something about it was amiss,” you thoughtlessly muttered, making Kaeya laugh through his nose.

“In my defense, I never asked him to put it there,” he said, raising a brow as he looked at you through the rear view mirror. It wasn’t hard to say that they had a sort of love/hate bond, and on some level it felt familial. At least, that’s what you gathered from the way he talked about Diluc. That aside, thinking about Diluc being somewhat of a sentimental person—or even just imagining hanging out with the two of them on a regular day, seeing firsthand what Diluc was like with his close circle—made you stare directly into space, wondering if you would ever get a shot at knowing him on that level.

Kaeya sighed when you went quiet all of a sudden. “You should be resting.”

You were holed up in your little blanket fort-slash-wrap in the backseat of his car, unapologetic despite how your stench practically became his car’s makeshift air freshener, but he never once acted like it bothered him. Apart from Diluc’s interior design choices, you hadn’t talked about anything else in the past half-hour ride. It was very clear that Kaeya knew not to ask any questions even if he wanted to. If anything, he was letting you get comfortable with the pace of your own setting.

“Diluc… how is he?” you finally had the courage to ask. Looking at his expression in the mirror, you saw some hesitation on his face. At this point, you didn’t care whatever answer he gave you. Whatever it was, you just needed to know.

“Barely holding up, I think.” He spoke gently as he tried to give you the news. “No one’s actually seen him in days. Been in isolation, same as you.”

“I-is that true?”

“Listen, princess, I don’t know your whole… situation….” He gestured, and your eyes could only widen in disbelief. “... but, Diluc isn’t the type to do something like this. You see…” Still iffy, he explained, “He’s not exactly happy about losing control, doesn’t exactly like losing himself to urges. Man’s got a whole other thing going on.Might be because of what happened to our father, you see—”

Our father? He stopped for a brief moment, icy blues catching your reaction on the rear view mirror, chuckling as he spoke, “Yeah, it’s complicated.”

Throughout the remainder of the ride, Kaeya didn’t get into detail about what happened to their father, only that their father was a proud alpha like any other. Over time, he got greedy—losing himself to his insatiable hunger, and that ultimately led him down a dark path. His death was something that really affected Diluc, which also caused his and Kaeya’s relationship to fall out in the past.

So many questions. You wondered where to even begin. But, it was only then that you realized you were too caught up in your own mess that you never once bothered to know if Diluc had anything going on. All the hurt was soon replaced by the feeling of guilt and worry over the possibility of Diluc hurting all this time.

Selfish.

Loathsome.

Self-absorbed.

These were all the thoughts that plagued your head—the words that reverberated inside your head, lulling you back into a deep sleep.

…

Warm, you thought. The sheets felt warm against your already-warm body. It didn’t make sense, but it was like waking up to a warm embrace after countless days of drowning in a pool of your own misery. These weren’t the sheets you left with. This was someone else’s. The bed and the pillows were someone else’s. The only thing familiar was the all-around scent, now more pronounced than the worn-out piece of clothing you held onto for the past few weeks.

The realization hit you fast when a heavy weight transferred to the other side of the bed—you were in Diluc’s bedroom.

For some reason, you felt relieved when you realized that his room carried the same aesthetic as his office. As soon as you turned to look at him, everything came gushing into your consciousness like a tide, and with it came the tears—everything from the locker room incident, Thoma, your disappearance, Kaeya, the car ride, the story about their father, and finally, the sight of him.

Diluc’s eyes were heavy, his skin pale, hair slightly disheveled. ‘Is this what he’s like behind closed doors?’ You wondered. Loose sweater—exactly like the one he wore the first time you met—and pajama pants, underneath a satin robe. You loved it. You should be ashamed of your thoughts, because even in the aftermath of his misery, he never looked so beautiful.

You leaped out of his sheets into his arms, catching him by surprise. You didn’t care that you were naked or that your tears stained his shirt, nor did it matter to you how much you reeked of burnt marmalade. He didn’t seem to mind either, else he wouldn’t be welcoming your enthusiasm by locking his arms around your waist.

“D-Diluc, I’m… I—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Under his breath, he said, pulling slightly away as red empathetic eyes studied you.

“Y-you… don’t hate me anymore?” You hiccupped, not missing how Diluc held back a chuckle as he wiped your tears with his thumb.

“Never did, ___,”

You didn’t know who initiated it, but you knew both of you wanted this. The gap between the two of you was gone in an instant. You’d wanted to taste him for so long, you’d deny it but at some point you were afraid that all the buildup might disappoint you in the end. But the way Diluc devoured your mouth made you insanely curious about what other things he was good at.

You grinded against his erection, clawing at his sweater, leaving traces of your nectar across his pants as you let him explore your mouth. After all this time—months of being touch-starved forced you to want him to pick up the pace. No, you needed him inside you as soon as possible. But Diluc wanted to take his time with you, ignoring your eagerness to get things going.

“Easy, princess. You’re much too good for that.” He pulled away, and your heart sank despite knowing he wasn’t gonna go anywhere. How could he be so calm at a moment like this?

Your chest heaved at the rate of your heavy breaths, watching and waiting for him to finish taking off his clothes so excruciatingly slow. Not like he was teasing you or anything. He was only trying to figure out what he wanted to do to you first.

The sight of his sizable member springing out of his waistband knocked the breath out of your lungs. You knew you were staring, but you couldn’t help it. Your eyes trailed from the tip of his cock, the prominent vein along his length, down to his balls. You never never noticed it before, but his bare thighs looked so much stronger too. You bit on your finger, unable to fathom the pain you’d have to take to get used to his size, but you wanted anything he could give you.

“Don’t give me that look,” he uttered as he gathered the precum that dripped from the head of his cock, stroking the loose skin wet with a few pumps. “Might not be able to hold back,” he said in a tone deeper than his usual.

You felt yourself practically leaking, now finding out that the warmth in the pit of your stomach could get much more intense. Your fingers instinctively found your clit, but Diluc didn’t like that, brows furrowing as if he was telling you to be patient.

“P-please don’t make me wait long,” you whined, eyes shining in your protest, once again like an adorable little puppy waiting to be fed, making Diluc’s eyes hazier with lust, a light smirk staying permanent on his face.

He gently pushed you flat on your back, making you realize that the weight of his hands alone could hurt you if he wanted to. He was holding himself back so much for you, and you wondered how painful that was for him.

“I-I can take it all, I promise.”

He knelt on the floor, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed, hot breath fanning across your exposed and drenched cunt. “You sure?”

Before you could answer his painfully rhetorical question, he ran his nose across your wet folds, making you hiss at the sudden surge of pleasure, but it was gone too quickly. “Please, Diluc,” you breathed.

He kissed your inner thigh in response, both hands caressing your legs in place as he continued to trail slow and sloppy kisses along your thigh down to your folds. His eyes were locked on yours the whole time, even as he ran his lower lip across your wet folds, his lower teeth slightly grazing your clit before nipping at the bud with one pop, leaving your cunt one last sloppy kiss.

He barely did anything to you, and yet your knees trembled in delight. You fought the urge to pleasure yourself, clawing away at his white silk sheets instead. “D-diluc… can’t wait any longer.”

“You sure you can take this?” It sounded more like an answer than it was a question. Before you could say anything, he slowly inserted two digits into your slippery hole, curling his fingers upward, finding your g-spot as his thumb drew circles on your clit.

Euphoric was the feeling of his fingers exploring your velvet walls, and it made you crave more and more of whatever belonged to him to be inside you.

“How ‘bout this?” he asked, pumping you with a third digit, fingers expanding inside your walls. He was stretching you out so good but not nearly enough, you felt, still desperately wanting a taste of his cock inside you.

As if it couldn’t get any better, his thumb was replaced by his tongue, flicking & stroking at your sensitive bud, lips nipping roughly at your clit, all while his fingers continued to fuck you.

“D-diluc!” you cried out, body arching into his touch, lower body wriggling over the spike of pleasure in your core. His free hand tried to pin you down, wrapping an arm around your thigh, unwilling to keep away from your cunt even for just a second.

Right as you bucked your hips upward, indicating how close you were to cumming, he wriggled his tongue aggressively, fingers wantonly pumping in and out of you at a much faster pace.

“Hhaaa!” you cried, leaving your mouth open as you let him eat and stuff you through your orgasm, your body uncontrollably shaking as you felt tears prickle your eyes.

He stood up, eyes a deeper shade of red with a gaze that watched you as if you looked so irresistible to him. Your core immediately felt his absence. You needed more, purring in protest, and mouthing ‘please’ to get him to pick up the pace.

From where you lay down, you could see how hard he was. His cock throbbed, tip leaking with precum as he stroked himself only twice, just to lube his shaft.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he uttered.

“But don’t stop, okay?” you pleaded.

He laid on you on all fours, eyes staring at yours intently as he aligned himself at your opening. His cock rubbed along your stomach first, length running across your folds, making you take a deep breath. His face was so close to yours now that his tip was right where your hole was.

His pace was menacing, to say the least. He brought either of your legs up, making them hook on his arms. He gave you a kiss, a soft one at that, planting more on your cheeks, on your neck, before closing the gap and deepening the kiss.

“Mm!” you moaned into his mouth as he slid his cock slowly into you with such ease, girth stretching you wide, giving you a sharp pain that made you tear up, but it was a pain that you welcomed.

You couldn’t help but pull away from his kiss, craning your neck up to release your moans as he went deeper into you. Your walls clenched at the lewd sound of his cock penetrating you, pain slowly turning into bouts of pleasure as he gradually increased his pace one pump after another.

He captured your lips once more, kisses leaving a trail of saliva after he went for your neck, sucking and nipping at a sensitive spot that was sure to bruise come tomorrow.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” you murmured, moans becoming breathy and high pitched when Diluc started pumping into you balls deep, hitting your cervix, the tip of his cock almost leaving your pussy before ramming into you again, fucking you even as you felt the gush of your second climax.

“Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop—mmmhh,” you whimpered. He continued to roll his hips, fucking you through your orgasm, making tears prickle your eyes from the overstimulation.

“Love the sounds you make, princess,” he said, voice low and filled with lust, as he exited you to flip you over.

You gripped onto the sheets, face down and ass raised. Your legs were wide open as his hips swiftly slammed against your ass, strong hands keeping you still as the head of his cock rammed into your cervix. His stamina was ruthless. Diluc’s hand made its way to your pussy, calloused fingers playing roughly with your clit, making you cuss a long and breathy mewl, your voice muffled by the sheets the lower half of your face was buried in.

Three? No—four times, you came. Your head was hazy, throbbing core still hot and coming undone from your last orgasm by the time he was already set to fuck the next one out of you.

Just when you thought he was nearing his own climax, he pulled you up, burying his face in your scent, one hand cupping your breast, the other circling an arm around your waist, holding you up as he fucked you from behind.

“Make me yours, p-please,” you whimpered, his nose trailing from your neck up to the back of your head.

“Say that again,” he whispered, planting a quick kiss on the shell of your ear.

“Make me yours.”

He roughly bucked his hips, a couple of pumps being the last before he stuffed your insides white as he came. He breathed against your ear, chest heaving against your back as his hand soothed your stomach. His knot was about to come, but you didn’t budge.

“You wanna take this, love?”

You breathed a sigh of relief at the term of endearment, hand making its way to his large one that was on your stomach. When you said you wanted all of him, you meant every word.

“I do.”

He parted your hair, trailing soft and slow kisses along your neck. About the same time as you felt him lock inside you, he bit into your scent glands, making you crane your neck up, eyes shut as you kept yourself from wincing from the pain.

You felt relieved—like you were safe in his keep, as if there was no other place to be.

Strong arms enveloped you, breaking your trance as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, telling you with every ounce of assurance,

“You’re mine.”

[chocosvt]

love café

⚬ pairing: jeonghan x fem!reader ⚬ word count: 17.6K ⚬ warnings: some vulgar language, i guess! ⚬ genres: big time nsfw, dirty talk, lap dances, quickies, bath shenanigans, exhibitionism, overstim - you get what i mean. big ole romance, angst, fluff, jeonghan is very rich and very hot, joshua has a not so subtle crush on you. 

✧✎ synopsis: while you’ve spent the last few months pretending the love café doesn’t exist, you realize you need its services now more than ever. this brings you face to face with jeonghan, the son of a luxury fashion designer who’s got money to burn. your exchanges are strictly business. until they’re not. 

✧✎ a/n: YES, ANOTHER REWRITE. the original love café was just so unsalvageable that i almost fully wiped its plot, minus the actual concept of the café. so, this should read as fairly new! I HOPE U ENJOY IT !!

It’s not that you were desperate. Because you weren’t.

You were actually more than desperate at this point, and no longer could you sit on that uneven couch with the broken leg, staring at the chipped paint, listening to your neighbours’ screams, believing you should continue like this. More than anything, you were shortchanging yourself. There was no point in holding onto that little string of hope in which those employers might phone you back. It would be impossible to contact your family when you had affirmatively cut ties with them ages ago. And, it was becoming increasingly foolish to ignore your one saving grace, just a street over from your rundown complex.

But, could you really commit to it? Would anyone even be able to look at you and think you were someone desirable enough to reward?

Those thoughts often hung over you like a dark cloud, and poured down so heavily that you were metaphorically drenched, in your own pessimism. However, on that day, you were beyond patience with the cards you’d been dealt. Such a despairing apartment, with all its bugs and drafts and horrible neighbours, could not be your brightest and most fortunate future. There had to be something you could do.

Even if it meant going to the Love Café.

In other words, an easy gig to financial heaven, in exchange for sexual pleasures of course. You walked into your bedroom and sat down in front of the wooden vanity, clicking on a dim, flickering bulb to help illuminate your face as well as its lifeless expression which stared back at you. It didn’t take more than ten minutes to pat your skin with some emptying makeup and thinning pans of eyeshadow. Then, you fixed up your hair and chose a simple, mute-coloured dress from your closet, immediately swallowed by the large winter coat you cozied into.

You hurried quickly down the corridor, ignoring the muffled shouts from your argumentative neighbours bleeding through the nickel-thin walls, past the barking dog which jumped against the door, scratching its nails whenever you waited for the elevator, and you didn’t even spare one glance at the very strange man who always hovered in the central lobby and watched you ignore his coos every single day. By the time you arrived outside the Love Café, you were breathing like a marathon runner. Despite the cold weather, you felt a sweat run like a breeze down your temple as you wiped your face before heading inside.

The space felt warm. Everything was red, pink, or white. And when you inhaled, the air smelled like a note of rose petals and candy. It was surprisingly easy to sign up for a ‘Love Card’ at the front desk.

“This card has twelve punches per service with your partner. If, by the end of the twelfth punch, you’re not looking to pursue something serious with this individual, you can pay for another Love Card. If you do manage to find, ‘the one’, then congratulations, and well wishes. Since you’re a first-time client, you get twenty-five percent off your first card.”

Whoever the lady was, she seemed less than enthusiastic as she pushed a cherry-red paper across the counter with a finely manicured nail. You thought she must have given this spiel so many times, the script probably haunted her in her sleep. Nonetheless, you thanked her, and heeded her direction when she advised you to choose any of the free tables, marked with a pale rose. For some reason, you picked the very last table amongst the row and slid yourself onto the uncomfortable, white chair, the metal back moulded into the shape of a heart.

Whoever reserved the table wasn’t exactly punctual. About half an hour after being seated, ordering yourself a tea, and examining the different clients who filtered in and out the café, you were beginning to assume the worst. That they cancelled. Flaked. Decided to pull from the service and direct their affluence elsewhere. As you titled the last few droplets of tea around the base of the cup, feeling utterly depressed and bored, you heard the little bells clink above the door, followed by a gasp from the employee at the front desk. Considering her microscopic range of emotion, you figured whoever entered must be some flawless rarity.

“Jeonghan!” She fixed her slouched position. “I wasn’t aware you made a reservation today. I haven’t seen your name in the system.”

“No worries. I set an anonymous appointment the night before. After all the chaos I caused last time, I figured it’s best to stay under the radar. I know I’m late. I was finishing up a term paper.”

“That’s quite all right. Here, I’ll just quickly renew your information. One moment… Okay, Yoon Jeonghan, you’re all set.”

At that, your eyes practically bulged right into the teacup. You’d heard his name in some conversations with a few university friends, before you had dropped your program. His father was an inventive in the fashion industry for nearly a decade, and his brand was considered high-end luxury, with people forking up the big bucks just to wear a piece from the collection. His mother recently begun a perfume company. In fact, you had a bottle from her Sunrise series sitting on your vanity, though you used each spritz very sparingly considering its outrageous price point. According to the most recent gossip, Jeonghan had ended his relationship with a model who’d been strutting his father’s cloths.

You couldn’t believe he was here.

No – even worse, you couldn’t believe he was making his way toward your table. It had to be some sort of mistake. How could it be that you chose to sit here? Was the universe attempting another cruel joke?

His visual seemed even more daunting outside his photographs in the magazines. Beyond a glossy page, he was softer. Thick hair, shiny and dark brown, which swooped beneath his ears and parted smoothly at the forehead. His lips were the same shade as the windowsill roses, as well as the high arches in his cheeks. But then, he was sharper too, with a trim, angular jaw and such a defined yet judgemental brow. You had expected anyone else but him. And now, this esteemed, much too beautiful man had come to the very last table, wearing an expression of waning curiosity. Or, as you interpreted it, clear-glass disappointment.

Before Jeonghan seated himself, he untucked his phone from his coat pocket and clicked a side button to check the time. He then sniffled, looked straight at the wall, and sighed. Despite your now devoted wish to disappear, you attempted to begin a conversation that wouldn’t backfire.

“Yoon Jeonghan. I’ve heard the name. It’s nice to meet you.”

He settled one arm on the table, tapping his fingernails.

“Yeah. I’m guessing you’re not a regular here—” he then peered over at your bright red Love Card placed by the teacup to say your name.

Bouncing your leg underneath the table, you nodded. “No, not really. I’ve been debating for a while if this was a choice I should make, but I can’t seem to have ends meet doing anything else. So, I came here.”

Already, Jeonghan looked painfully bored. He stopped tapping his fingers and leaned his chin against the hand instead. You knew it was the insecurity barking. Unnecessarily, you apologized to him.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m probably not the woman you’re expecting and I get that. I wouldn’t be all that offended if you wanted to save the Love Card for someone else or—”

Out of the blue, Jeonghan laughed, though he attempted to mute the sound by digging the bend of his index finger between his teeth. Your sentence trailed off with an awkward, dying breath. He suddenly leaned back in his metal seat, shaking his head apologetically and pulling back some of the soft hairs from his eyes. You felt utterly confused.

“Sorry, sorry,” he smiled, “didn’t mean to discourage you there, sweetheart. I’ve just never had someone apologize for—well, their looks.”

“I-I don’t know,” you lunged for damage control, “I just thought you seemed disappointed and I… Well, I haven’t done this before, so I don’t really know all that well how it works. I… I should stop talking…”

It felt as though someone had swatted both your cheeks in an iron-slap, because the skin was stinging hot like never before. You knew he was staring at you, probably thinking to himself that you were a train wreck waiting to happen. Afterward, an employee visited the table to collect your emptied teacup, and asked Jeonghan if he’d like anything to drink. Refusing to look elsewhere but the clenched fists in your lap, you waited for the employee to leave once Jeonghan rejected the offer. He’d pulled out a piece of paper and a pen from his pocket. Uncapping the pen with his teeth, you watched him sloppily scribble something down.

“My number.” He said, sliding it across the table. “Listen, I’ve gotta go home and proofread that term paper before I submit it. Just send me a text, okay? I won’t be free for a few days, anyways.”

“Oh, okay.” You sniffled.

Quite frankly, you couldn’t comprehend that he was still interested in pursuing something venereal, even when you had embarrassed yourself like a circus act. He rose quickly from the table and wrapped the waistband of his coat tight around his small waist.

Staring down at the paper, you blurted out, “are you sure?”

Jeonghan titled his head. “Am I sure of what?”

“Never mind.” You answered. “I’ll text you later.”

“Okay.” He nodded, on the verge of walking away when he abruptly stopped himself. “Are you always this nervous?”

Caught off guard by his question, your elbow whacked the edge of the table and you meekly stuttered, “I-I don’t know…”

You were more than positive he was going to ghost all your texts.

To a degree, you were correct.

Over the course of the following week, you sent Jeonghan at least three texts, each on separate days, only to be rewarded with a demotivating lack of responses. You knew he was a busy individual who probably didn’t have much time to waste on promiscuous affairs, let alone a committed relationship. So, you tried very earnestly to not feel upset or unimportant at his methods – even despite the series of required payments glaring you down from those white envelopes scattered atop the kitchen table.

And then, during the black, late hours of a snowy Friday, you received a reply. A surprisingly urgent one which detailed that you make it to the downtown Opal Studio before eleven o’clock, as there would be a backdoor entrance left unlocked for your access. He mentioned a storage closet underneath a staircase, worded very sternly as: … Wait inside, and do not make yourself known. I’ll see you there shortly, and ensure you leave without being spotted. Uncertain of what the situation would entail, you phoned a cab and payed the driver using some remaining funds from a paper note purse. The studio’s front was a smooth, velvet black, with a wide window which illuminated several mannequins wearing Mr. Yoon’s newest issue. Each outfit cost a pretty penny.

Like you anticipated, Jeonghan was late to meet you in the storage closet; however, you were at no point going to scold his blatant disregard for scheduling when he’d pressed you tight against the door looking the way he did. Buttons popped down the chest of his unwrinkled dress shirt, sleeves cuffed to his elbows, and his neat, styled hair beginning to dishevel around those intense eyes. He braced his hand beside your head, studying your lips as though they were glittering.

“Can I kiss you?” Jeonghan asked. The question seemed to rumble from deep in his throat and you felt your knees weaken.

You nodded immediately, allowing his hand to frame the side of your cheek as his warm, soft mouth nudged against yours. It was gentle for a fleeting touch, and then there was pressure, teeth, a slick tongue running across your bottom lip and leaving you in such a sensual daze that you just stood there with a parted mouth. Jeonghan definitely knew what he wanted from you in that moment. And he wanted it quick. You were flipped around, chest pushed against the door, skirt hiked up impatiently as the fabric ruffled around your hips. His hand slid between your thighs to rub you through the thin pair of underwear, pressing firmly enough that you could feel the cold, thick rings on his fingers.

Eagerly, you began a slow gyration of grinding against Jeonghan’s touch while simultaneously biting down hard on your bottom lip, knowing embarrassingly well that you were already sticky and soaking and ready for him to use you like a designated fucktoy. He was rather flush to your backside as he dug the heel of his palm against your clit, so much yet not enough between the cotton. Something about his scent was beyond arousing, and it gripped to him like a web. An expensive cologne no doubt, mature, raw, and ocean-fresh. You heard the sound of his belt being whipped open, followed by a zipper.

“Alright,” Jeonghan hummed, passing a hand up his length, “let’s make this quick. Gotta be back upstairs in five to finish the measurements and tapering and all that boring shit. Now, just be a good, quiet little girl for me, sweetheart, and this’ll be a cake walk.”

Your mouth stretched into a low, whiny groan as Jeonghan held your underwear aside and began to sink inside of you, his hips stalled against your skin. His light breath then fluttered at your ear, “bet you’d make such a perfect toy to keep my cock nice and warm. Feels so perfect, being this deep inside you, sweetheart.” He shuddered against you, thrusting once, twice, slowly and teasingly dragging himself out before ramming right back in to pinch you against the door.

“Fuck,” he cursed between his teeth, “life would be so much easier if I could just keep you right here on my cock, wouldn’t it, baby?”.

Undoubtedly, that smooth-talking tongue of his was going to be an impending problem. You don’t know where he got off exactly on such scandalous thoughts, but you were too consumed in your own lust to care. The way he fucked you against that door with one hand scraping at your hip and the other wrapped up your throat, fingers pressing hot into your drooling mouth to keep you quiet, it was more bliss than a one-way ticket to Eden. Jeonghan timed his orgasm appropriately, slipping himself from your warmth at the last second and finishing himself off using the hand which had been maintaining your silence. His breaths were slow but husky in the aftermath, his fingers painted in cum.

“You wouldn’t want to use that pretty mouth of yours to clean this, would you?” He laughed.

Before you could respond, Jeonghan had grabbed some paper towels left to sit on a shelf and cleaned the mess himself. Then, as though nothing had happened, he asked if you were carrying that damn Love Card before you could even flatten down the wrinkles in your skirt. You grabbed the small note purse you set down next to the paper towels and revealed the obnoxiously coloured card. Jeonghan smiled.

“That’s the one.” He took a dry erase marker from the shelf and wrote his initials in the first circle.

“Here,” Jeonghan proceeded to offer back the card, “one session down. I need to scram. The hall should be clear at this hour, but have a cab ready just in case you need to bolt fast. Oh—before I go, you got the money to pay the driver? It’s no problem if you’re short. I can cover.”

“N-No, I should have enough.” You answered.

“Cool. I’ll transact you tonight.” Jeonghan nodded, tucking in his shirt rather poorly before slipping past you to exit the storage closet.

One week later, you were at the entrance to the library, pulling open the door with a big, cold huff. It was much warmer inside. You were beginning to feel the tips of your stiff fingers again.

Despite your service at the Love Café, you wanted one last time to test your luck on a receptionist position at the downtown hair salon, simply because you would think better of yourself if you weren’t relying chiefly on Jeonghan to pay your bills. His last transaction had been more than you anticipated. Finally, you were able to erase that huge electricity bill, and you still had enough of the money left over to supply some warm meals for the next few days. If you could just submit your newest resume to the salon, then you might be able to permanently cover the groceries.

Except, you needed access to a computer.

Ever since you tipped over a glass of water onto your old laptop, it had stopped working properly, and the library was the only place close by which let you use the computer room without fees. However, as you peered in through the backroom window to find an open space, you realized just how crammed full it was. Judging by everyone’s intense typing and unblinking eyes, you weren’t going to steal a seat anytime soon, which pulled out a frustrated sigh as you fiddled with the USB in your pocket. You thought about heading home, until you saw Jeonghan.

He was seated at the distant left corner, leaned back comfortably in the chair while he examined something on his laptop. A gym bag was slid underneath the table, and he was dressed as though he had some sort of sports practice; quite the contrary to his usual crisp, ironed shirts and heavy winter coats courtesy of brands you couldn’t pronounce. He seemed concentrated, chewing on his thumb nail while he tapped the touch pad. In fact, he didn’t notice that you had approached him until you said his name quietly from across the table and his eyes flickered.

“Uh, hey.” Jeonghan replied, sounding bothered while he pushed his thumb harshly against his bottom lip. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“And I didn’t expect to see you.”

He shrugged, maintaining his uninterested glance on the laptop screen. “Well, I’m looking over some notes. Last minute stuff.”

You nodded. “What’s with the duffle bag?”

“My friend Joshua – he’s been making me coach this Peewee soccer team with him at the Greenfield Dome.” Jeonghan puffed out his chest, letting an arm fall loosely to his side. “Those kids are insane. They have too much energy. I shouldn’t have let that bastard sweet talk me.”

At that, you giggled, though immediately hushed yourself when the librarian came by with a metal cart, filled with books to shelve. You stepped around the table to move out of her way. Jeonghan pulled out the chair beside him using his foot and nodded that you take a seat.

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out the USB.

“I need to upload my new resume. I mean, I probably won’t hear anything back from this place, ‘cause that’s how it usually goes. But, whatever. Thing is, I busted my laptop, and now the computer room is filled up. I’ll just come back later and hope it’s cleared out.” Staring down at your shoes, you avoided Jeonghan’s gaze. “I know I’m doing this Love Café stuff, but it would still be nice to have my own income, you know?”

“I get that.” He replied, scratching at his collarbone. “I’ve already got my laptop here and everything. You can use it, if you want.”

“Really?” You smiled wide. “Thanks.”

Jeonghan closed a few tabs that he’d been rotating between before sliding his laptop over to you. Wriggling the memory stick into the small slot at the side, you logged into your email account through the main search engine. As long as you could send your resume to the salon before they closed their application deadline, then you would hope for the absolute best, even if it was an unstimulating, lacklustre gig answering phones and scheduling hair appointments all day. Just as you went to drag the file into your email, Jeonghan’s laptop froze.

“Uh, Jeonghan,” you whispered, “nothing’s moving. Do I just wait? Does this normally happen? Did I screw something up?”

He shook his head and laughed. “Relax, relax. It’s been doing that a lot recently. I figured out if you hold down these keys—” Jeonghan suddenly scooted his chair in very close, his thigh pressing against yours as he reached a hand underneath your arm, the other lightly nudging your fingers off the keyboard, “then it goes back to normal. See?”

“O-Oh, yeah. It’s working.” You stuttered, not all staring at the specific keys he clicked because the side of his face was much too pretty.

Granting you access to the keyboard again, Jeonghan leaned away, though he didn’t move his thigh from yours even an inch. It was almost concerning how flustered you felt. Jeonghan had literally pinned you against a closet door and fucked his own hand right in front of you, and yet, your heart was fluttering tenfold. In a much different way. And it lit this spark of fear and adrenaline at the core of your chest like gasoline hitting a wicked flame. You detached the USB stick, logged yourself out from the email account, and moved quickly off the seat.

In a hurried breath, you said, “thanks so much!” and proceeded to leave the library as though someone were trailing you with a pitchfork.

While it was embarrassing, you knew it was necessary. There was no way you were going to crush on that boy. It was strictly business.

Tired. Aching.

Uncomfortable moisture covering the slopes and divots of your body. You didn’t think there was anything left inside you for him to so commandingly take, like his name were inked to your each and every limb. And yet, Jeonghan wasn’t ready to let you rest. The mattress dipped behind you, the heat of his chest sticking to your back, the weight of his erection pressed right at your tailbone. While his lips kissed softly up your neck, Jeonghan slid his hand in between your thighs to continue pleasuring you, ignoring the responsive whimpers attached to your sensitivity. He’d already brought you to two orgasms, though you were sensing the overbearing rush of a third.

An index and middle finger slid down to your entrance, the contact beyond slippery, a sort of wet velvet, and you hardly recognized the sensation unlike the first time he’d touched you. Jeonghan hooked the digits deep, using the heel of his palm to rub a thorough friction against your clit. Working faster and faster, his laboured breaths fanned hot across your neck while he sharply concentrated on making you starry-eyed. It was pain. It was bliss. It was exactly what you wanted most and everything you couldn’t endure at the same time. You came heavily, screamed as the pulsation at your core felt almost violent.

Unable to fully ride out the pleasure, you attempted to curl away from Jeonghan, hiding your face in the pillows and further tilting your hips. However, the boy followed your movement. He stayed snug to your back, practically leaned over top you with the latter arm braced next to your head while his hand pounded and pounded. The amount of liquid gushing onto his fingers and spilling down his wrist felt almost comical, and you were certain that you had never orgasmed so intensely in your life. To make matters worse, it seemed as though he’d taken that little memory box in your head filled with all your language and tossed it right out the damn window. You couldn’t form one word other than sobs.

Jeonghan breathed a light, shaky chuckle beside your ear. “Trying to run from me, sweetheart? When I can make you feel so good? Look at how much you can take, honey. Such a good girl when you cum so fucking hard ‘round my fingers I can barely move them.”

The sound of his digits sliding out from your entrance was the most impure, salacious noise you didn’t know could exist. Rolling slowly onto your back, you saw the immediate coating on Jeonghan’s hand and the drops beading down his wrist. He caught one with his tongue, licking all the way back up like he was cleaning the juice from a melted popsicle, and you almost couldn’t watch him. In fact, you were exhausted. There wasn’t anything left for you to offer, and the thought of moving from his bed when your core felt this utterly sore and your muscles this tight set a perfectly timed cue for your eyes to fall shut. It was heavenly.

Nonetheless, Jeonghan had a very specific rule. There was no staying past your session, and he was often strikingly clear about it. But  this was the first time you’d been pushed to such a degree. He must be able to recognize that it was only a short nap you needed, and perhaps a quick minute under the shower to rid your skin of the sticky sweat.

Out of the blue, something was tossed onto your face. It was your t-shirt earlier stripped and thrown to the floor by Jeonghan. Cracking an eye open and peeling away the fabric to hang loosely from your grip, you sighed. He had already slipped back into his exercise pants.

“Seriously? I’m exhausted.”

He threw a loose flannel over the long, beaming red scrapes that you had clawed down his back, shaking his head with a huff.

“I’m not saying you need to get out right now. I’ve got a dinner with the parents at eight.” Jeonghan proceeded to drop the rest of your undergarments onto bed. “So, you gotta be gone by a quarter to, alright?”

Swallowing dryly, you nodded.

“Alright.”

The next morning, you were seated on the edge of your bed, staring with bleary eyes at the smooth, red Love Card that was initialed to its fifth circle, leaving only eight more sessions with Jeonghan. Though you approached the café with nothing more than an intention to earn money (even if the sex would be inexplicably dull), you were beginning to presume that there was more to this business than you thought. Because the sex wasn’t dull. It was concerningly amazing. And the very man who you had sworn to maintain a no-strings-attached type relationship with was throwing you for a loop. But he was boundary driven.

Be ready to go by this time. No sparkly clothes. Leave nothing in the washroom. Don’t show up here. Don’t show up there. Don’t text me unless this. Don’t call me unless that. Jeonghan knew very explicitly that you were a simple trick to relieving his stress and fulfilling his sexual desires, yet, anything further than that was laughably impossible. And, besides, it’s not like you needed to be in love or have this dazzling, perfect boyfriend. There was too much on your plate already.

You had gone to bed in a thick wool sweater, layered with the heaviest comforter you had due to the broken heating. Ignoring the cold, your next-door neighbours had found themselves in another drunken argument, forcing you to hear the unnerving crack of beer bottles and an outrageous number of insults, ranging from the very straightforward, ‘ridiculous bitch” to the audacious, “go fuck yourself, narcissistic prick.”

Thankfully, the dramatics ended just before three am.

You set the Love Card back on your nightstand. After you splashed mild water onto your face from the sink, you started multitasking, attempting to brush your teeth and remove your pyjama bottoms at the same time. Then, there was a knock at your door. You spared a glance through the peephole while the toothbrush hung from the corner of your mouth and the frigid air hit your bare legs. Upon recognizing the face reflected through the fisheye lens, you nearly choked on the mint-flavoured spit collected at the back of your throat, which forced you to unpleasantly compose yourself at the kitchen sink.

He knocked again, and you pulled the door open almost immediately, probably appearing as though you just hiked through the wilderness. Jeonghan’s eyes widened as he smiled at you.

“Damn. Sleep well?” He remarked, looking you up and down.

You were in the midst of a yawn as you answered. “Um, yes. I-I mean no. Wait, I don’t know what I’m saying. What was the question?”

Jeonghan nodded. “I’ll take that as a no.” He then reached into the pocket on his flannel coat. “Anyways, I have your phone. You left it on my bedside table the other night. Figured it’s kind of useful, I guess.”

“Oh my god. I did that?” You winced, realizing you must have been so tired and discombobulated from Jeonghan blowing your brains out that you forgot. “It won’t happen again. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

Leaning your temple against the door, you sighed. “How was that dinner thing with your parents? Was it any fun?”

The boy shook his head, pulling out his car keys and tossing them from hand to hand. “No. It was all business bullshit. What they want me to do with my future after I graduate uni. How to be responsible with my money since they think I’m gonna blow it in a few years. Trying to structure my life around stuff I don’t really give a damn about.”

“O-Oh…” You frowned, “well, was there at least good food?”

Jeonghan stopped playing with his keys and titled his head at you. “Yeah,” he said, his eyes gentle, “they had great red velvet cake.”

Unfortunately, your neighbours must have woken up and decided it was a little too peaceful at such an hour, because you heard a loud, clanging thump echo from the room beside yours, like someone had dropped a metal pot or pan on the ground. Of course, the yelling started.

It didn’t last nearly as long compared to the night before, just a few scolding comments which were ultimately muffled. You wondered what Jeonghan was thinking as he blinked at the neighbour’s door and realized how despairing the narrow, dimly-lit hallway looked. After visiting his high-end apartment numerous times based in the luxury core of the city, with its beautiful architecture and sparkle, you were frankly a bit humiliated he was witnessing this drab part of your life – the reason you were seeking his service in the first place. You apologized through your teeth for the commotion, though Jeonghan merely shrugged.

“It’s better than nothing, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true. But those two next door can be a handful sometimes. I don’t get it. If they hate each other, then just break up. Get divorced. It’s like they want to be miserable on purpose.”

“Bet you wish you could get the hell outta here, huh?”

“All the time.” You replied wistfully. “I’m thinking of going to the mall today, actually. I need a new bath towel. Whatever gets me away.”

“You want a ride there?” Jeonghan asked, shaking his keys.

At that, you smiled a little too wide. “Maybe.”

Carefully, you picked up a thin, glass bottle of pink perfume from the display counter, tilting the liquid back and forth as the lights gleamed off the gold nozzle. Everything inside the store was diamond bright and almost blinding, while the air smelled strongly of expensive floral. The employees were tailored in smooth, sophisticated suits, which made you more petrified than usual to touch anything, hence your very delicate inspection of the perfume as you waited for Jeonghan to finish his conversation with the front clerk. Since his father’s collection was sold at the boutique, Jeonghan seemed to have a cordial relationship with the staff, and they had recognized him almost immediately.

As most of their merchandise was quite expensive, you always ignored the boutique until Jeonghan suggested you stop by. It didn’t help that there was actually some cute clothing begging to be bought, though you knew one swift glance at the price tag would change your mind. You brought the perfume bottle close to your nose and inhaled lightly.

“What does it smell like?” Jeonghan asked.

You sniffed again. “It’s sweet, though it’s not strong.”

“Let me smell.” He said, and so you raised the bottle up to his nose. Jeonghan wrapped his hand around yours as he took a breath, shaking his head in disapproval. “That’s all wrong. I don’t like it.”

“It is kind of high schoolish.” You told him, setting the test bottle back onto the counter as though you were laying down a jewel. “I just need a new scent, you know? I actually love that one bottle your mom did, the summer tropic one. It’s so peachy but mild. I’m running out.”

“For real?” Jeonghan laughed, his eyes skipping over the different shaped containers. “You use one of my mom’s perfumes?”

“Um, yeah. Have you even smelled the tropic one? It’s amazing.”

“I don’t hang around her laboratory too often.” He replied. “It gives me a big fucking headache. Smells like this place times a hundred.”

You shrugged. “I guess that’s understandable.”

Suddenly, Jeonghan had latched his hand around your elbow, pulling you around to the opposite side of the counter. He grabbed a tall, slim bottle that was made from foggy glass and a chrome silver pump.

“C’mon, give me your wrist for a second.” He said. “Try this scent. I don’t know why, but it reminds me of you.”

Pulling up your sleeve, you stuck out your wrist and allowed him to spray a thin layer against the skin. Then, you sniffed the area. At first, your forehead crinkled as you attempted to decipher its concoction of notes. There was something a little fresh and cool, but then there was this oddly mature hint of a distinguished floral scent. You couldn’t pinpoint the flower, but it was certainly addictive and very intriguing.

“It’s called Orchid Night. Smells great, right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, rolling your sleeve back down “just don’t tell me what it costs. It has to be at least fifty bucks.”

“Try sixty-nine,” Jeonghan corrected, “plus tax, don’t forget.”

Immediately, you grabbed the bottle from his hand and returned the perfume to its small podium on the countertop.

“Well, let’s put it back before we break it.”

Jeonghan smirked. “I could buy it for you.”

For a split second, you were tempted to succumb, though you snapped from the thought at the last second and shook your head.

“No way. I wouldn’t let you, anyways.”

He buried his hands in his pockets, rolling those gold-copper eyes of his. Jeonghan made sure to purposefully bump into you as he walked down the bright aisle toward the clothes. “Honestly, you’re so boring, man. That scent, on you? It would be sexy.” The boy then turned around to smother you with a burning gaze. “But, fine. Have it your way.”

You hurried after him, scoffing lightheartedly to camouflage the fact your heart was beating like a broken pendulum. Jeonghan had stopped at a rack of neatly pressed clothing to sort through the hangers.

“My way is the better way,” you smiled, “always.”

Jeonghan moved the long-sleeved button-up he’d been eyeing back onto the rack, merely blowing out a puff of air.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Besides, I still need to get my bath towel.”

“We can find it on the bottom floor. At the new essentials store that just opened up. The Shower Duck, I think.”

“The Shower what?”

He couldn’t help but cackle while repeating himself. “The Shower Duck. You thought I said something else, didn’t you?”

When you were too tongue-twisted to reply, Jeonghan decided to place his fingers softly on your chin, holding your head still as he leaned in very closely to whisper, “you’re such a dirty girl, you know that?” You almost hated how casually he pulled away and continued to examine the clothing, as though he hadn’t just murmured a lascivious comment into your ear while the employees were standing a mere few meters across the store. More than anything, you desired the courage to deservingly tease him in return, to break that relaxed little shtick of his. Except, you weren’t confident nor subtle enough to attempt anything in public.

But when your eyes landed on that brand-new lingerie set wrapped primly on the nearest mannequin, you had a wonderful idea.

“No, are you being serious? Why? Why?”

His blunt fingernails sunk into the leather arms of the desk chair, scraping upward, as equally frustrated with your cruel antics as he was aroused and impatient. Maybe it was somewhat meanspirited to strut the thin, beautiful lace and ribbons curled around your body in a baby pink, and indeed, there was a moment where you pondered leniency, though, you severed the thought, because Jeonghan would surely tear each garter and bow from your outfit like it hadn’t cost anything at all. Pursing your bottom lip, you smiled, sinister and cold.

“I am being serious,” you stated firmly, nearing closer to his desk chair, “your hands won’t touch a single part of me, Jeonghan.”

He glared up at you with a dark, flickering fire in his eyes,  as if he were already weighing the consequence to breaking such rules. You began to sit comfortably on the boy’s lap, curling your arms around his neck while maintaining the intensity of the stare.

“And, if you do, I’ll grab my things and leave. It’ll just be you and your hand, for the rest of the night.” Purposefully, you brushed delicate lips, featherlight, along his warm, red-tinged ear, to which you could practically feel him harden underneath you upon the whisper, “and there’ll be nothing you can do other than remembering how good it felt when I was in your lap, grinding down on you, baby boy, just like this.”

Slowly and with focus, you rolled your hips in a deep, smooth gyration, ensuring Jeonghan felt the heavy pressure against all the right places. His hands keened for your waist, so you immediately reminded him of your unnegotiable rules, forcing them to settle on the arms of the chair. He drew in a sharp breath. And then, he started to laugh, like a beaten protagonist receiving their first, acrid taste of defeat. Jeonghan titled his head back to smile very lazily at you.

“Evil.” He said. “You’re fucking evil.”

“Mmhm,” you agreed, continuing the unhurried, steadfast pace of your hips rolling back and forth, observing with poorly hidden glee as the boy lost his smile, “but you’ll still cum, won’t you, Jeonghan?”

Before he could sneak in a clever rebuttal, you adjusted yourself even lower onto his lap, digging your nails down the back of his neck as you circled a thorough motion against his erection. Admittedly, it was difficult to maintain the domineering act. Even through the black material of the slacks, his cock was managing to create a friction with your lace underwear, a friction so rough yet fruitless that you were already tempted to take him, full and aching inside you. In order to distract yourself, you licked the tender side to Jeonghan’s neck, looping your tongue in a messy, warm pattern overtop a sensitive vein.

“Ff-fuck,” Jeonghan stuttered, scraping harshly along the chair, “you devilish little girl, c-can’t believe you’re g’nna make me cum like this—b-but it feels so damn good the way you’re moving, baby.”

You suckled until you’d drawn a shiny, wine-coloured hue to the surface of Jeonghan’s skin, to mark a dark bruise as a keepsake. He kept breathing through a parted mouth, each exhale shakier and more erratic than the last, his knuckles hard like stone while they gratingly tensed and betrayed his frustration at not being able to touch you. With slow, teasing hands, you began to drag them down his chest, nails clawing at the expensive fabric of his dress shirt. Jeonghan squirmed. He clenched his jaw and cursed rough under his breath. You focused on where his cock was poking you to apply the most dizzying pressure thus far, rolling your hips until something inside Jeonghan snapped and you felt him cum.

“Jesus—fuck!” He shouted, the loudest you had ever heard the boy, and there was a notable tear in his usually soft voice. “Keep going, keep going,” Jeonghan panted, squeezing his eyes shut, “keep fucking moving just like that, sweetheart. A-Ahh, ff-fuck, feels s-so good—"

At the pulsating sensation right beneath your core, you submitted to Jeonghan’s wish and continued grinding down, even if you were beginning to tire at your lack of stamina. However, there came a point where you were too breathless to maintain such a pace, so you trickled to a halt and steadied your hands on his firm shoulders. He tossed his head back, neck leaned against the edge of the chair. The hazy, glass look to his brown eyes and the rose glow smeared on each cheek made it appear as though he’d just touched down from heaven. As you shifted slightly in Jeonghan’s lap, you noticed the white stream of cum that had soaked through his pants, and that somehow, he was still hard.

“I didn’t know you could beg, Jeonghan.” You remarked, grinning, meanwhile attempting to catch your breath.

He shook his head. “Don’t expect it too much.”

“Well, I can tell you’re satisfied, either way.”

He chuckled, brushing some of the loose hairs from his face. You felt his hands settle upon your waist’s bare skin, warm and squeezing. In that moment, you just didn’t possess the same acuteness to scold him.

“Almost,” Jeonghan huffed, “but, what do you suppose you’ll do to please yourself, sweetheart?” He leaned forward, until his forehead was just a sliver away from bumping yours, the boy sliding a hand down your abdomen and beneath the lace underwear. As he stroked the tips of his fingers along your slit, he smirked. “I’ve never felt someone so wet before, dripping all over my fingers and I’m barely touching you. Did it turn you on that much, sweetheart? Feeling my hard cock right underneath this needy pussy of yours?” Jeonghan teased with a smirk and a low, calm tone. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to duct tape his mouth shut or allow him to keep talking, as there was something about his honeyed voice which wound you up like clockwork.

Yet, before you could even start the syllable of a response, Jeonghan pushed you strongly from his lap, his hands glued to your waist as he guided you to stumble against the bed. Your back hit the mattress, the sheets puffing up around you. And then, Jeonghan was kissing you, lips clashing messily while he took advantage of the switched power dynamic to run his hands over your every inch. One second, they were cupping your breasts overtop the baby pink bralette. Another second, they were grabbing at your ass and kneading so desperately. You were being ravaged. It was overwhelming, it was gratifying, it was needed beyond belief.

“Hey,” Jeonghan said, separating his mouth from the side of your throat to stare at you with an oddly sentimental eye, “before I get all up in your guts and everything— you look beautiful. Even if you did choose this outfit to be a big fucking tease.” His fingers brushed down the edge of your jaw, and he smiled at you in a way that wasn’t clever or teetering on sarcasm. Your heart leapt like a little frog in your chest.

“Really?” You questioned him, not because you didn’t believe the lingerie suited your figure, but rather, you weren’t expecting this sweetness from someone who was always so quick to get rid of you.

He nodded, raising a suspecting eyebrow. “Yeah, really. What, you think I’m lying to you or something?”

“No, I don’t think that,” you answered quickly, curling your fingers into the bedsheets, “I just—I wasn’t… Uh, never mind.”

“Alright,” Jeonghan laughed, lowering his head to delicately kiss your cheek, and then your neck, “you’re a bit strange sometimes, you know that?” He mumbled against the sensitive skin, even daring to dig his knee between your thighs to make you increasingly pliable.

“I-I know,” you stuttered, unable to help your embarrassing voice crack. But you still smiled, letting Jeonghan explore and pleasure your body with an uncharacteristic tenderness for the remainder of the night.

Twelve am.

Usually, at this time, you’d be at the bottom floor of his apartment complex, seated by the lobby water fountain. You’d be examining your face with a pocket mirror, awaiting the yellow taxi cab, and trying to avoid eye contact with the wealthy businesspeople filtering from the elevators in glamourous congregation.

However, tonight was different.

Tonight, you were in Jeonghan’s bed, with a white sheet covering the lower half of your bodies, an ear pressed to his bare, warm chest while you breathed him in like the wind on a bright summer’s day. You felt his fingertips trace long figure eights down your spine and then dance back up to the subtle curve of your shoulder blades. Sometimes it tickled, other times it was a touch so soft it was hardly there, and in between you thought he might have been tracing words. The room was quiet. But good quiet— the comfortable quiet. And then you heard Jeonghan speak into the crown of your head while his hand stilled at your waist.

“Did that salon ever call you back?” He asked.

You sighed, focusing on your thumb which brushed a small freckle on his pectoral muscle. “They emailed me, and said their position was already filled, but that they’ll try to look for another opening.”

Jeonghan rubbed your hip. “That’s good, right? I mean, they didn’t just flat out reject you. They’re gonna keep you in mind.”

“It’s better than what I’m used to getting,” you answered, pressing your lips together and tilting your head up at him.

And, that’s when it struck you, like someone had just clanged a bell right beside your head. You were still in Jeonghan’s bed. You were still in Jeonghan’s apartment. You were still with Jeonghan. Feeling as though you’d broken some vastly significant cardinal rule, you operated on a strange basis of panic and autopilot, already seated at the edge of the mattress while you tucked your underwear back on.

“I’m sorry,” you spewed, reaching for your shirt next and straightening it out frantically in your lap, “the time escaped me. I-I know I have to go. And, my Love Card, I think it’s in my purse or—”

“Can you slow down?” Jeonghan laughed, casting a hand through his loose, disarrayed hair which you had admittedly tugged earlier in the night like your life depended on it. The boy’s arms circled around your midframe, hugging your back to his chest. “I don’t care about that stupid card right now,” Jeonghan hummed into your ear, “stay.”

At that, you almost choked. “Stay? You want me to stay?” You repeated dumbly, dropping the inside-out shirt back onto your lap.

The coldest shiver split down your spine as Jeonghan buried his face against your neck, taking a breath of your scent, kissing your skin.

“Yeah,” he purred, now pecking the soft spot behind your ear, “I want you to stay. Or, if you really want to go home, I won’t stop you.”

“No,” you replied almost immediately, melting into his voice, his touch, his body, “trust me, I’d rather be here.”

Jeonghan’s arms relaxed their snug grip.

“I figured that.”

Even though you had strongly protested the idea, Jeonghan succeeded at wearing you down akin to an ocean tide forming whorls into rock, and now you were seated before your vanity with an array of makeup scattered at your fingertips as you prepared for a dinner. His parents were going to be there, in addition to some business partners and close friends, which sounded like something from a hellish nightmare. In fact, Jeonghan himself didn’t seem all that eager to attend. He’d been sprawled across your bed for the past half hour, with the long drapes of his coat fanned around him, as he flipped through an old magazine. You were certain he just didn’t want to tough another dinner alone.

After focusing a spritz of perfume to your neck (the orchid one, bought by Jeonghan, because he was very insistent that you not smell like his mother) you shut off the vanity lights and sighed.

“I think I’m ready… Physically though, not mentally.”

Jeonghan yawned, tossing the magazine aside before he pushed himself to sit upright on the bed. He rubbed at his eye.

“Trust me, it’s not going to be the big, royal midnight ball that you’re picturing. My parents have these dinners all the time. You’ll be the centre of attention for a few minutes, and then it’s pretty much just business central from there. You’ll be lucky if you can even get a word in. I stopped trying months ago.”

You smiled at him, feeling slightly better about the situation, and took one last, scrutinizing glance in the mirror. The dress was simple yet elegant, a mute shade of dark blue with a beaded, crystal belt that you had forgotten about, as you discovered it laying behind a stool shoved in your closet. The fabric had an elastic tightness to it and was hemmed shorter than you remembered, just above your fingertips. You tried not to judge or overthink the figure which reflected in the vanity glass, or what Jeonghan’s parents might assume upon their first introduction to someone who was so clueless on their accolades. It was merely a dinner.

“Stop worrying so much,” Jeonghan hummed, sensing that you were at the forefront of a spiral. His hands settled to your hips and he caught your eye through the mirror. “No one is going to judge you, or poke fun at you, or say anything mean. I promise.” He then grabbed your winter coat off the bed, helping you slide into the arms, and even doing up the buttons. “You’re gorgeous.” Jeonghan said, tapping your chin.

It didn’t help that he could fluster you so easily.

Joshua wasn’t at all who you expected him to be, while simultaneously encompassing everything you would indeed expect from the position of Jeonghan’s closest friend. He was a juxtaposition personified. Slick, ash blonde hair combed into a handsome wave, eyes which twinkled like the restaurant’s diamond chandelier, and a soothing voice which could be a cup of warm milk on a frosty day, though his interactions with Jeonghan portrayed him as childlike and frivolous. He greeted you, at first with a quick hug. You heard him exhale deeply.

“Wow,” Joshua commented, retreating to shake your hand, “you smell amazing! I mean—well, I hope that doesn’t sound weird.”

You laughed, and wondered how someone could smile with such a prettiness. “Thank you! I’d be upset if you didn’t notice, actually.”

Joshua continued to shake your hand. “Oh, yeah, agree. It’s wonderful to meet you. Jeonghan’s been trying to hide you, it seems.”

“Go shove a break stick in your mouth,” Jeonghan scoffed, blowing a loose piece of hair from his eyes, “and stop shaking her hand like that. You’re gonna snap her whole arm off.”

Finally, Joshua released his grip, and your arm fell back to your side like a limp noodle. His cheeks were starting to turn pink.

“I was not. Anyways—” he nodded at you, “like I said, nice to meet you. I hope we’ll talk more tonight and I’ll pick your brain.”

“Sure thing,” you answered, waving the boy off as he returned to the dinner table before facing Jeonghan. “He seems nice.”

“And totally into you. I haven’t seen him shake someone’s hand like that since I introduced him to Elouise from France. He’s gonna turn into a lost puppy all over again. Bet he’ll try to sweet talk you later.”

“Can’t wait.” You grinned, already giggling through your teeth.

Jeonghan c0nsquently thwapped your forehead with his finger.

However, meeting Jeonghan’s parents was starkly different than the good-humoured Joshua. They both appeared cross, and firm, and before you had even shaken their hands you were forced to wipe yours against your dress. The father was a bit softer around the edges, showing you a pleased smile that reminded you instantaneously of Jeonghan, while the mother was stone-faced and seemed as though she hadn’t slouched since birth. Even when she complimented your fragrance, there was a tartness to her voice which made it sound disingenuous.

“Well, Jeonghan,” she said, clasping her hands together, “I’m glad to finally see you with a lovely lady on your arm. I didn’t think it was possible that you could settle for someone after being with Baejin.”

“Oh?” The father piped up, “you’re my son’s girlfriend?”

Before you could respond, Jeonghan had beaten you to it.

“No, she’s…” he bit his lip hard, “she’s just a friend. Mom kept nagging that I always come to these dinners alone, and she was down.”

For some reason, it felt like someone had pierced a pin straight through your heart – a very tiny hole which shouldn’t hurt all that much, yet stung like flesh to orange, glowing metal. In fact, there was a visible shift in your countenance, from a nervous smile to a sunken frown, but you were able to veil it very quickly and pretend nothing was wrong. Why should you feel so disappointed that Jeonghan had introduced you as a friend? The promiscuous nature of your relationship didn’t immediately loop you two together as soulmates, or lovers, or even the mildest beginnings of boyfriend and girlfriend. You tried to refocus yourself.

Jeonghan’s mother nodded. “Even if she isn’t your next Baejin, it’s nice to meet a new face. The dinner talk might bore you no doubt.”

“No, not at all—” you forced a smile, “I’m just excited to be here.”

It was easier to endure the night than you thought, because true to Jeonghan’s word, the conversation was a bunch of business lingo that you didn’t exactly understand, with the occasional question flitted to you by Joshua who sat across the table. You had completely emptied your glass of ice water, and were halfway through your wine when two fancy, tuxedoed servers stopped by the table to collect everyone’s dishes. A distant relative was seated to Jeonghan’s right, and they had swept him into a discussion of whether or not he was interested in pursuing his current degree or if he would abandon it to work fulltime for his father’s brand. Meanwhile, Joshua had whisper-shouted your name.

You raised an eyebrow, “what?”

“Are you getting dessert?” The blonde asked, already shoving a small, plastic menu to his face. “I can’t decide what I want.”

“I guess so,” you picked up an extra menu sitting by a purple wine bottle and started to browse the list of decadent food.

Joshua sighed, “I usually get the cheesecake… but, I’m torn. What if I want the caramel apple baked pudding with black truffles?”

“The caramel apple baked what?” You questioned, laughing from the absolute mouthful that Joshua just worded so effortlessly.

“I know, I know. It’s a jumble. But my family and I come here all the time so I’ve gotten these names down pat. What are you thinking?”

“Um, I’m not sure. I’ve never been here before, actually.”

His eyes, glistering and delighted, locked with yours. “Can I recommend you something, then?” Joshua said while smiling. “Red velvet cake. It’s right at the bottom. Not to mention the slice is huge so there’s always leftovers for the next day. It’s a favourite here.”

The relative responsible for dragging Jeonghan into another trite conversation concerning his future had excused themselves from the table. He was finally able to return his attention to you, and you slid over the dessert menu so he could pick something. You noted that Jeonghan’s hand had fallen onto your thigh, right at the hem of your dress, and you could only surmise that trouble was brewing. Joshua took a sip from his water glass, then settled it back on the table while subtly eyeing you.

“So, I’ve never seen you around before. Are you in school?”

You tapped your nails against the white table cloth, shaking your head, “no—I had to drop my program. It just wasn’t what I thought it would be and, well, I took a huge hit financially. So, no school.”

“Not everything is going to be a bullseye,” Joshua said, “I’m sure there’ll be more opportunity down the road. This other friend of mine, his name is Mingyu, he does this thing called the Love Café—” the boy then gestured to Jeonghan, “and I know he’s done it once before. Have you heard of it? Maybe it’s not up your alley, but I hear it’s good money.”

The suggestion had quite visibly stunned you. It seemed that Jeonghan was intent to keep the foundation of your relationship as covert as possible, which prompted his ‘friends’ comment before dinner, therefore you had no choice but to follow the rouse, even if the boy was currently sliding his hand further up the inside of your thigh, pushing inch by inch under your dress. Jeonghan didn’t contribute a single word.

“Um, the name sounds familiar. I’ll have to look it up.” You then glanced at him, hanging his head over the menu like a child who forgot their glasses, probably hiding some million-watt smirk.

“Are you having dessert?” Joshua asked his friend.

Jeonghan sat up straight, nodding, “I am.”

“The red velvet cake?”

“Vanilla ice cream. The one that comes on the skillet.”

“Oh, that one’s seriously good,” Joshua groaned, “ask them to put a chocolate chip cookie on the side. It gets all warm and—”

“Joshua,” the young lady beside him, probably in her late twenties, with petal-shaped, twinkling eyes similar to his and ice-like smooth skin, suddenly wrapped her hand around his arm, “can you come outside with me for a few minutes? I think I left my wallet in the car.”

He pushed out his chair. “Sure thing—guys, I’ll be back in a few. I need to help my cousin. If the waiter comes, order for me please.”

While you might have promised Joshua to follow through on his unnecessarily complicated apple pudding, such thoughts were quick to be discarded the moment he’d left the table, as Jeonghan had given you much more to think about. The boy’s hand was wedged between the apex of your thighs with two fingers pressed flat against your underwear. You felt heat, and the faintest burning of pleasure, one that yearned for you to start a gentle undulation against his hand because your unruly body was already eager for stimulation. Jeonghan picked up his wine glass.

“What are you doing?” You tried to shelter the whisper from the table’s guests, hoping the business speech was too engrossing.

As laid back as an ironing board, Jeonghan took a long gulp from his drink, swishing the wine from cheek to cheek before he swallowed. He set the wide-rimmed glass back down and wiped his mouth.

“What do you mean, ‘what am I doing?’” He said, raising an eyebrow at you as though you’d conjured a make-believe tale. However, the instant he started to slide up his index finger so it could push firmly against your clit, a smirk penetrated that complacent expression.

You grabbed his wrist, stared him dead in those honey-brown eyes. “Are you insane?” the whisper was harsh, “we’re in public.”

He tilted his head indifferently. “What’s your point, love? I get to play with your pussy whenever I want. It’s mine now. Remember?”

The dirty-mouthed comment split a fire beneath your cheeks like a flint cracking steel. Not only that, but Jeonghan studied each minor contort of your face as he slipped two digits beneath your underwear, brushing his fingertips ever so softly around your sensitive clit. You gulped, dry and gritty, hating that your thighs were starting to spread.

“Jeonghan!” A voice called his name from down the table.

Fear gripped your poor heart like latex glove. It was an older relative, asking him to pass down the remaining bottle full of wine.

“Oh, such a nice boy!” She chirped.

You nearly gawked at the remark considering the immoral placement of his hand and what he was doing. On the contrary – as much as you wanted to be embarrassed for allowing Jeonghan to touch you in public viewing– he knew his talents much too well, and the manner in which he used your own arousal to lubricate the massaging motion of his finger to your clit was an astounding bliss. Your legs fell wider apart, inviting him to explore a more rigorous touch, and that’s when Jeonghan curled his two fingers inside of you until his knuckles couldn’t fit.

Before your pinched expression could be caught by anyone at the table, you looked straight down at your lap, watching his wrist work beneath the navy-blue fabric. In fact, very faintly, you could hear the squelch from his digits pumping deep and slow into your warmth. Your bottom lip was quivering as he drew them out, now running the long length of his fingers upward to graze beneath the hood of your clit. He repeated a stroking gesture. It triggered the nerves to swell and pulse.

“I see Joshua walking back,” Jeonghan murmured, an arrogance thick in his voice, “and you don’t want him to find out about this, do you? Or, maybe I’m wrong.” He slid his entire hand beneath your underwear and cupped your centre, squeezing like he owned it. “Maybe you want him to know you’re such a whore of a girl that you’ll take my fingers anywhere. I mean, look at how much you’ve opened your legs, and I didn’t even ask you to. I love when you behave just for me, honey.”

Joshua collapsed back at the table with a huff, combing some snow flurries from his hair. “We found the wallet.” He said.

Yet, you couldn’t even bring yourself to face him. Jeonghan had spread your lips with his index and ring finger, using his middle digit to make rhythmic, deep circles around the bud. An erotic whine escaped your teeth and Joshua’s eyes widened; his face tinged with concern.

“Are you alright?” He questioned. “Did you get a Charlie horse?”

“N-No, I’m fine, really.” You composed yourself with a weak smile, and took a sip from your wine. “I got one of those rib pains.”

The blonde boy winced. “Ouch, those hurt big time.”

Honestly, you didn’t think it was possible to endure dessert without revealing to some degree that you were being, well, stretched open by Jeonghan. It was sheer torture staring at the waiter while he took your order, knowing the boy was lazily pumping his fingers inside you with a half-smirk seated so comfortably to his face. When that huge, delicious slice of cream red velvet cake was placed before you on the table, you could only fork a few pathetic bites, and when Joshua offered you to try a spoonful from his warm apple pudding, you nearly squealed the word no as Jeonghan rolled your sore clit between his fingertips. The most egregious aspect to the entire daubable was that the boy stripped your orgasm from you at the very last second, like stopping a rollercoaster just before it tips over the downhill plummet.

“How was the ice cream?” Joshua asked him innocently.

You observed with horror as Jeonghan brought that sinful hand to his mouth, lapping his tongue against his two fingertips as though he were actually savouring a sweet and flavourful vanilla.

“Delicious.” He grinned, catching your mortified stupor from the corner of his eye. “I’d taste it again in a heartbeat, Shua.”

Dropping the slice of bread into a shallow bowl, you used the spatula to submerge it underneath the milk, egg and cinnamon mixture until it was completely coated. Then, you slid the bread onto your buttered frying pan to let its surfaces crisp and brown. Since you began utilizing the service granted by the Love Café, life at your depressing excuse for an apartment was becoming more bearable, though your ultimate goal would be to ditch the paper-thin walls and insult-spewing neighbours once money was no longer a prevalent issue. You were still insistent on supporting yourself too, if you could ever score a job.

You flipped the bread onto its opposite face, pressing it down with the spatula as the pan sizzled and the butter popped. A few days had passed since your last intimacy with Jeonghan, and the proof would have been stamped to your Love Card if the boy had actually written his initials like usual. The thing was, Jeonghan – who had always been so firm and unwavering on the rules of the café – was now skirting about the regulations as though they were optional. There were days when he didn’t even initial the card, but still delivered his transactions. In fact, you were almost positive that sex had happened more than twelve times and that you could be renewing your card if wanted (you didn’t).

As silly and cliché as it sounded, you liked Jeonghan. You constantly thought about him and missed him and wondered what he was doing while you were trapped in bed listening to another argument between your spiteful neighbours. There was always a deep, electric pounding in your chest upon weaving the tips of your fingers along his skin, touching him, exploring him. Yet, when he held you close, tucked your body tight against his like there was nothing surrounding you but ice, comfort found a home in your belly like a warm, homecooked meal.

After spilling some icing sugar and strawberries across the toast, now fried a delicious shade of golden-brown, you took a seat at the counter and dug in. There had been an occasion where Jeonghan brought you breakfast after warping your legs into complete gelatine (you had no idea that kitchen table sex could be so fiery and passionate), which proved to be a pleasant morning, where you could still feel the softness of his thumb as he kindly brushed some whipped cream from your bottom lip. You sighed, sticking a strawberry into your mouth. How foolish it might be to fall this far and this devotedly for someone like him.

But you didn’t want to stop yourself.

In fact, you reached for your phone across the counter, swiped into your messages, and decided to be bold. You texted him.

[  9:29 AM ]: Hey! I know that I’m not supposed to send you anything unrelated to our business lol, but

[9:29 AM ]: Just wondering if you’re available to grab a coffee with me or something along those lines?

Setting the phone down and turning it over so you wouldn’t be tempted to helplessly wait for a notification, you continued eating. After scraping the last few pieces of toast and syrup around the plate, there was a vibration and a quick, ding! Strangely, you were starting to sweat.

[ Jeonghan | 9:34 AM ]: Sorry. In a lecture rn.

Of course, your surge of bravery immediately dehydrated, and you decided it was best to pretend that you hadn’t asked him anything at all – for your confidence’s sake. The next two hours were spent cleaning the kitchen, taking a short walk outside the complex to feel the Northern air refresh your face, and finally, a long bath, in which you nearly fell asleep and drowned as the steam lulled your eyes shut. While wrapping your body snug in that new, hot pink bath towel, you heard a knock at the door. You assumed it was the painter who occupied the room directly below yours, as you had borrowed his vacuum the night before, though you weren’t exactly raving at the thought of answering him in a towel.

However, by squinting through the fisheye lens, you were shocked (and greatly relieved) to discover that it wasn’t the middle-aged painter dressed in his splattered, dirty overalls, but Jeonghan.

And he was holding a drink.

You unlocked the door.

“Uh, hello after all. What are you doing here?”

He smiled at you and held up the cardboard cup, “my lecture ended, and I thought I’d do you a solid. Couldn’t remember if it was two sugars-one cream, or two creams-one sugar. So I tossed a coin.”

“What exactly was the result?” You giggled.

“Heads,” Jeonghan answered, “two sugars-one cream it is.”

“You’re lucky that’s correct.”

Accepting the warm cup from his hand, you set it carefully on the kitchen counter. When you returned to the door, Jeonghan was evidently ogling you. He really suited the image of a casual university student when he wasn’t dressed to gems and jewels in his sumptuous clothing.

“I knew the hot pink towel would look good on you.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not dropping it, so forget it.”

“Whoa,” he chuckled, shaking his head, “I didn’t ask you to drop it, sweetheart. I’d rather you not actually, with this door wide open and everything.”

“Did I really just hear that from you, Mr, Dinner Table?” Folding your arms, you stared him down with an accusing expression.

He held up one finger in defense. “First of all, that was under the table, so unless someone bumped their fork or something, then we were pretty much safe. This is you dropping your whole towel right in the doorway like there isn’t a weirdo probably peeping you across the hall as we speak. And I’m not letting anyone look at you like that, ever.”

“Fine,” you sighed, hoping he couldn’t spot the flustered heart pumping your chest beneath the towel, “you’ve made your point.”

Jeonghan checked his silver wrist watch, “fuck. I gotta get going, need to be at the studio so I can be a taper dummy again.”

“Oh, okay,” you nodded, “talk to y—”

Suddenly, the boy was cupping each side of your face in his hands, and his lips pressed soft but quick to your forehead. Jeonghan then pinched your thigh under the towel, a gesture which felt oddly endearing rather than sexual, before he left the corridor.

“Later!” He’d called.

Shutting the door, you returned to your seat at the counter, holding the coffee cup up to your mouth as you took a small, nervous sip.

How could you let yourself fall this easily for him?

Jeonghan’s washroom was somehow nicer than your entire apartment, and you were fairly certain that your eyes had never seen so much white-grey marble, all squeaky-clean and aglow with lights. He’d shot you a text roughly an hour ago, right after he was released from the painful effort required to keep Joshua’s peewee soccer players in check, wondering if you were available to come over. Of course, the innocence to the term ‘come over’ was nothing more than a euphemism, a means of sugar coating what Jeonghan actually intended: to be inside you no doubt. And since the boy was so drained and unwilling to instigate any work himself, Jeonghan decided that a steaming, hot bath should do.

Well – a bath which involved you seated on his dick. The tub was dark grey tile, square-shaped, and practically the size of a small jacuzzi. It even had a bench to sit on. While it had been difficult at first to simply cockwarm the boy – when all you could feel was how deeply he spearheaded into your sensitive spot and how this shock would ripple from your abdomen at even his gentlest movement– you knew he wasn’t looking to make things quick and temporary. Therefore, you settled into his lap, wrapping your arms around Jeonghan’s neck while his circled your waist beneath the water. Both of you were starting to fall asleep.

“Jeonghan,” you whispered, lifting your head from his shoulder, only to remember that you were indeed naked and this heat lapping around you was definitely not a blanket, “can I tell you something?”

With his eyes still shut, he nodded, his fingers digging appreciatively at your hips. “Of course you can, baby.” He replied, his voice sounding deeper than usual as he orientated on the edges of sleep.

Smiling, you combed through the damp hairs at his nape, your voice reverberating like a musical instrument off the marble. “Remember the salon place? They called me two days ago, said they had an opening for me and that I could start next Monday. I… I wanted to text you about it, like, as soon as it happened. But I wasn’t sure if I should.”

“What? Really?” Jeonghan was staring at you now, his head straightened from its leisurely position against the edge of the tub and cocked with interest. The fact he seemed so intrigued, that you could read the genuine excitement building up in those brown eyes, had almost made you happier than the salon’s phone call. “Congratulations!” He leaned forward to kiss you, pecking your lips chastely the first time, and then slower come the second, his hands squeezing your thighs.

After a tiny laugh, you sighed contentedly. “Thank you. It’s going to be so nice having my own cashflow and everything. And if I can work my way up and become like, a kickass hair stylist? Can you imagine?”

“Should I grow my hair out more so you can practice cutting it? You’ve got a steady hand, don’t you?” Jeonghan asked, mostly teasing, as you could imagine his parents harping him during his next session at Opal Studio if he looked as though he’d ran through some hedge clippers.

Returning the affection, you kissed the rosy tip of his nose. “I think my hands are pretty steady. We’ll find out I guess, and we’ll know for sure if a huge chunk of your hair falls to the floor.”

Your laughter immediately mingled, and you hid your smile against the boy’s neck, a very moonstruck, loopy smile which felt like riding a blazing comet between the stars. If you were legitimately able to climb higher amongst the business, then you could picture a life in which you didn’t need to lean on Jeonghan and the Love Café for financial support. In fact, there were moments where you felt rather dirty using his money even when he was completely insistent on such matters, like buying food and paying off bills. You held tight to a certain hope, that you could become independent again, and maybe, just maybe, be able to keep this beautiful boy whom you once thought would hate you.

His fingers tapped up your spine, urging you to face him.

“Seriously,” Jeonghan said, “I’m happy for you.”

“I know,” you answered, so quietly he could hardly hear it.

And then, you decided to kiss Jeonghan, placing your damp hand upon his cheek while your mouths slotted together. The contact had lost its grace almost instantly, and the kiss turned from a sweet gesture to a sensuality so thick you could feel it swelter the air and pool between your legs. He offered his tongue for you to suckle by sliding it smoothly into your mouth, and from there, Jeonghan’s intended relaxation had vanished. His hands grazed to the front of your body, reaching up and sliding back and forth over each breast. It wasn’t until Jeonghan began massaging his thumbs in circular motions around your nipples that you moaned into his mouth, a sound which flicked a smirk to his face.

Once his lips were shiny and slick with your saliva, he moved each kiss down the side of your neck, now pinching at your nipples, even twisting gently and making sure to ease the dull throb by rubbing them afterward. It was becoming unbearable. You needed to move. However, the second you started a rhythm in Jeonghan’s lap, he shook his head.

“Be still,” he told you, lightly gripping your chin.

The desperation in your whine was horribly apparent, almost soaking each word. “No Jeonghan, I-I can’t do that anymore—” ignoring him, you continued to grind your hips and move the water around you, feeling his engorged head tick against that one spot of insane pleasure, “I need t’cum now, all over your cock.” With every bounce in his lap, you begged, “please, please, please.” This prompted Jeonghan to grab your waist much tighter than usual and slam you down, holding you still.

“No, not like that,” he grunted, and you wondered if his control was simply otherworldly or if he was just that talented at hiding how good he felt. “I’ll make you cum, sweetheart,” Jeonghan nodded, “but you can’t move. I just want you to sit there, all the way down.”

He then leaned in close to your face, nearly pressing his forehead to yours, and that’s when you felt his thumb brush with a featherlight, fleeting touch across your clit. The sudden stimulation jerked your body. Jeonghan bit his lip and grinned while continuing the sensitive touch, the pressure becoming heavier with each minute that passed. Your thighs started to tremble, and your moans were echoing around the washroom.

The honeyed dirty talk crawled up Jeonghan’s throat. “You’re such a cute little cocksleeve, sweetheart,” he purred, titling his head as he rubbed his thumb faster, “oh, look at you, baby. Shaking and crying and taking it like it’s the only thing you’re good for—” a messy kiss to calm you down, thin strings of saliva hanging in the air each time your mouths separated, “I bet you’re gonna cum for me soon, right?” The boy encouraged, keeping his forehead flush to yours so he could observe with utmost clarity the beautiful contortions of your face. “I know you are, sweetheart. Because it feels so good, right?” You nodded frantically, digging your fingers into his neck like a cat sinking in its claws. Jeonghan’s thumb pushed beneath the hood of your clit, directly massaging the soft bud, and the pleasure inside you leapt to a new high which made you dumbly lose all sense.

“Cum.” Jeonghan commanded so gently, his gaze burning against your eyes, squeezed shut. At the straightforward word, you allowed the sensation to swallow you like a current, and the hot, teary cry you mewled had been quickly snuffed as the boy pushed his lips to yours.

“Can feel you clenching so fucking tight around my cock,” he chuckled, digging his nose into your hair and speaking warmly beside your ear, “and how much you’re throbbing right under my thumb. Must feel so good, sweetheart, cumming all over me like such a good girl.”

You slumped against him, overwhelmed, emptied, and breathing so heavy that you were afraid the oxygen might dwindle completely from your lungs. The fact Jeonghan could remain so composed while buried to the hilt in your heat was something else that frightened you, though, in the moment, you preferred not to think about it, instead concentrating on the distant sensation of Jeonghan drawing galactic shapes to each your shoulder blades.

Hopefully, he’d let you stay the night.

Once you started the receptionist job at the hair salon, you had bumped into Joshua on a Friday evening. While his platinum blonde look was indeed enchanting and princely, he complained that it was difficult to maintain the roots, and that he often found himself back in the stylist’s chair for a touch up. He’d come in on a whim. Luckily – due to the late hour – there was an open seat, and Joshua puffed a great sigh of relief as he hooked his jacket onto the salon coat hanger. Curious if there was more behind the reason to his abrupt appearance, you conversed with him while he waited for the stylist to tidy up her work area.

That’s when Joshua informed you of the Opal’s Galleria Night, a fashion exhibition which would display Mr. Yoon’s newest edition for his upcoming Spring line. Joshua seemed surprised that you hadn’t known about the Galleria, or, that Jeonghan hadn’t mentioned it to you. Oddly enough, Jeonghan had been radio silent the past three days; not a phone call, or a voice memo, or even a text. Yesterday you had hoped to catch him stuck in the books at the library, but the area where he usually sat was occupied by a study group of freshman. It concerned you a little.

An ungraceful quickie in the washroom after his three-hour lecture ended on Tuesday was your last encounter. Not to mention, there was only one more opening left on your Love Card.

“He didn’t say anything,” you told Joshua, pretending to act indifferent “so… I don’t think he wants me there. It’s not a big deal.”

Yet, that’s not how you truly felt. There had to be some reason for the boy’s keeping you in the dark. Did he not want to explain the ‘friends’ trope to all the Galleria members, like at the dinner? Or, was he thinking that you wouldn’t be interested? It wasn’t easy to seem unphased.

“Jeonghan doesn’t need to invite you,” Joshua had said, “cause I’ll invite you myself. Mr. Yoon said it was more than  fine if I brought someone along. So, why not you? It’ll make the night more fun.”

At first, you vehemently rejected the invite, no matter how sweetly Joshua attempted to rope you into a night of free perfume samples, delicious catering food and a chocolate fountain perfect for dipping strawberries. However, when the hair stylist pulled Joshua away to fix his darkening roots, you had much time to mull over the offer, and even the fact you felt poignant about dismissing it. As you tapped a pen against the desk, staring out the window into the grey, dulling sky, you convinced yourself there could be no harm in attending the Opal’s Galleria Night. Besides, you and Jeonghan weren’t cast in stone. He probably wouldn’t bat any eyelash anyways, knowing his eased nature.

And so, you caught Joshua just before he left.

You told him you’d changed your mind.

When Jeonghan first saw you at the Opal Galleria, it was from across the ballroom that had been temporarily converted into an exhibition space, stood next to a mannequin draped in a cherub-pink slip dress. Almost comically, he gagged on some sparkling champagne held in a thin and tall glass, though he recovered smoothly as to not interrupt the conversation his father was sharing with the dense crowd. You waved at him, not too noticeably of course, but he either didn’t catch it or had decided to ignore the gesture. Shrugging, you tried not to overthink it.

Mannequins were lined up along both sides of the ballroom, adorned in the mild tones baring semblance to Spring, with the blips of baby blues, clementine oranges, and cream violets transforming the Galleria into an acrylic painting. Jeonghan’s mother took the opportunity to offer some spritzes from her most recent line, which had both you and Joshua smelling like a tulip garden. While exploring the room with the blonde boy, you stopped to examine a mannequin dressed in a relaxed, high-waisted pant and a lace camisole that seemed breezy and flowing. This collection was definitely tamer compared to the usual extravagance you had always seen through the store windows and in magazines.

“Would you wear it?” Joshua asked, chewing on a strawberry that he might as well have plucked from thin air.

Tilting your head and squinting, you took a moment to contemplate. “If it was my size I might, if I could find a price hanging off somewhere. But I don’t want to even touch it. Mannequins are weird.”

“No prices are usually displayed at the Gallerias,” Joshua informed you, “though, I will agree. It’s probably a Toy Story thing where they all start moving at night when no one’s here. Spooky, huh?”

You sighed at him, “thanks for the nightmare material.”

Suddenly, there was a tap to your bare shoulder, and you nearly yelped like a cat with a stepped-on tail as Joshua laughed between bites from his juicy strawberry. Turning around, you were met with Jeonghan, who had this flat-lined, unenthusiastic smile hardly touching the corners of his mouth. He looked rather agitated in fact, and you felt cold inside.

“Hey!” Joshua exclaimed, punching his friend’s arm. “Finally escape your dad’s novella-length speech on the pink slip?”

The crowd once gathered around the mannequin had started to disperse, with the visitors now exploring the rest of the outfits.

Jeonghan hardly payed any mind to his friend, throwing out an impatient, “yeah, it was whatever,” before he began questioning you. He started with a rather inhospitable, “why are you here?”

“I invited her,” Joshua announced, “since I ran into her at that salon place. I thought it would be nice and everything. The Gallerias can get pretty stiff if you come alone. Plus, there’s chocolate fountains.”

He appeared nettled, like he’d woken up and spilled coffee on his favourite shirt. You couldn’t place the exact emotion, nor could you identify the reason behind Jeonghan acting as though there were one-hundred choice words waiting to zap off the tip of his tongue. For an instant, you wondered if it would be worthwhile to question him, though there was a shout of the boy’s name and you spotted his parents beckoning him over from across the exhibition. Jeonghan merely rolled his eyes, disappearing just as quickly as he’d arrived to accompany them.

You folded your arms concerningly. “Do you know if something’s wrong? I haven’t seen him like that before.”

Joshua dropped the rest of the strawberry into his mouth. “He’s probably stressing over something. I wouldn’t worry too much. He’s not really one to blow up or get all in your face. I’ll talk to him later.”

Seeing as there were others who wanted to examine the camisole mannequin, you and Joshua seated yourselves at a tiny table right beside the chocolate fountain and catering foods. Though, you were unable to quell the curiosity at what Jeonghan was needed for, prompting your eyes to wander as unnaturally as possible in his direction. He’d just pulled a young woman into a hug, and she was positively gorgeous, dressed in a silk-fabric dress, form fitting and ruby red, with an elegant slit parting up to her right thigh. Her ponytail was slicked shiny as though her hair had been styled professionally, and she flaunted a dreamy smile that reminded you of a vintage female heroine.

And then, like a slap to the face, you realized she must be the woman whom Jeonghan’s parents seemed to be obsessed over.

Baejin, his ex-girlfriend.

She mentioned something into his ear, and they became giggly, the two pulling in again for another short hug. Jeonghan’s father gestured back to the pink slip mannequin, and the four walked over to discuss it for the umpteenth time. You wondered if she was going to be modeling some of the clothing. The assumption felt correct as Baejin touched the dress’ delicate fabric and the beaded, glimmering string tied around the tiny waist. Quickly, Jeonghan fetched the girl a champagne glass, the two drinking together while the father appeared to be entering another in-depth explanation. And, perhaps dignifiedly so, you were feeling mislead and upset. You speculated if this could be the reason for him to keep the Opal Galleria a secret – Jeonghan didn’t want you to catch even a glimpse of him reuniting with Baejin.

They hardly portrayed two ex’s who were now settled on different chapters to their lives. The longer you stared, the angrier, yet, more confused you felt. As you thought before, the odd relationship between you and Jeonghan was not set in stone, and it certainly didn’t ignite with the intention of actual love taking a blossom to your doorstep. It could be that you were jumping to conclusions, misreading things, or disillusioned by your tendency to wishfully think. Nonetheless, the sight still hurt.

Joshua bumped your elbow.

“Are you hungry at all? The scent from the catering tables is getting to me. I can grab a plate for you, if you want.”

With a sigh and a fragile smile, you shook your head. “No, I’ll come with you. Besides, you don’t know what I like anyways.”

“Fair enough.” Joshua agreed.

He stuck out his hand for you to take while rising from the chair.

Grabbing a small plate, you started at the end of the catering table and began making your way down, using the plastic tongs to serve yourself some spring rolls. Joshua filed after you, instead taking a bowl and scooping up some of the fresh zucchini pasta. Admittedly, you had lost your appetite after watching Jeonghan act so cordially with Baejin, though you were determined to not let the plight sour the otherwise enjoyable night you were having with Joshua. Once you reached the chocolate fountain, you swore a sparkle jumped into his eye.

“Why are you so obsessed with the fountain?” You had tried not to laugh as you asked the question.

The blonde boy looked aghast. “Because, it’s beautiful!” He picked up a strawberry arranged neatly around the base, dipping the edge briefly beneath the chocolate. “I mean, how can they make it so delicious and velvety? When I came to my first Galleria, I spent like, half my night just standing by the fountain, eating the fruit.”

You couldn’t help but think Joshua was adorable, and you grinned at him, “well, maybe I don’t have as much of a sweet tooth.”

“Just shush up and try this.”

He held out the strawberry, inviting you for a taste. At first, you paused, wondering if there was some flirtatious intention behind the gesture or if Joshua was just being his overtly kind self. And then, you held onto his wrist and took a bite from the strawberry, the warmth of the melted chocolate satin-smooth against your tongue.

Wiping the edge of your mouth, you nodded. “It is pretty tasty, actually. Let me try dipping it. You make it look weirdly fun.”

After setting down the catering plate, you took Joshua’s strawberry while he picked up a new one. Together, you pushed your fruits beneath the streaming chocolate, twisting it at the green leaf to fully coat the sides. So it wouldn’t drip, you immediately took a huge bite with a hand placed just below your mouth, humming contentedly.

“Okay,” you mumbled, still chewing, “I can see why you like this so much. I think I could get addicted to chocolate strawberry dipping.”

“Me too,” Joshua chuckled, “oh! Look, there’s whipped cream here and I didn’t even see it!” He set down his plate beside yours and grabbed the bottle like an eager little child. Popping off the cap, Joshua shook the can and pressed his fingertip against the nozzle, spraying a white-frosted peak onto the top of another strawberry. You copied him, though you had accidently sprayed too much. Once you licked the cream off your finger, you poked the entire fruit into your mouth like a funfetti-sized cupcake. For some reason, Joshua started giggling at you.

“What?” You glared at him playfully. “What’s wrong?”

Rosy tinges flushed to the arch of Joshua’s cheeks. “Uhm… Well, l-let me just—” he stuttered, cupping his hand gently to your face, his thumb brushing at a spot right below your bottom lip. “You had some whipped cream on your… chin slash lip. Sorry about that.”

“O-Oh, it’s okay.” You were stumbling yourself, tongue darting out instinctively to ensure there wasn’t anything still there.

At random, you felt this prickle tiptoe up the back of your neck, a sensation that was hardly perceptible yet singeing enough for you to notice it. Gulping, you peered toward that faceless mannequin draped in its pink slip dress, toward Jeonghan, Baejin, and his parents who were enthralled in a conversation with her. Jeonghan was glaring so blatantly at Joshua that you’d forgotten how to speak, and you couldn’t even pronounce a single word of warning as the boy started storming his way across the ballroom.

His grip was on your elbow like a viper’s teeth.

“Geez, where’d you come from?” Joshua said, though he was  able to note the tension this time, and Jeonghan’s surly behaviour.

“I need to talk to you,” Jeonghan murmured by your ear, ignoring Joshua yet again, “in the hall just outside the exhibition.”

You didn’t want to agree. Strangely enough, you felt this urge balloon inside you, an urge to cause a gigantic scene with screaming and thick tears and unnecessary curses, because as much as you wanted to dismiss your anger, there were jealous, wronged feelings inside, on fire and itching to escape from your gut. Miraculously, you held your composure, and announced to Joshua that you’d talk to him later.

Jeonghan then tore you into the empty hallway.

It was like a lightning bolt, how quickly he exploded.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jeonghan ranted, pacing back and forth as the distant echo of music bled through the wall. “Seriously, I don’t text you back for like, three days, and you’re already going on a date with my best friend—” he softened his voice in a purposefully mocking way, “letting him get all delicate with you, feeding you all lovey-dovey style and wiping that cream off your lip. Did you think I wouldn’t see it?”

“Excuse me?” Your brow instantly creased like a folded map, and you felt an intense ache hit the front of your skull. “Um, you’re one to talk! How come you didn’t tell me about the Galleria? Because you didn’t want me to see you with your arm around your ex’s waist? Because you don’t think I’m good enough to show off to your parents?”

Jeonghan gawked at you. “Baejin? For real? You think I’ve been secretly dating her behind your back or something?”

“How am I supposed to know?” You barked, tucking your arms defensively across the chest. And, while it might have been too early into the argument to pit such a statement, you had already started bubbling, and you knew there was nothing to snuff your fire. “Besides, you hardly ever get back to me apart from when you want to fuck!”

At that, the boy was momentarily stumped. What sounded like a rebuttal fizzled at the back of his throat, though it faded away. The silence worried you, because it echoed a confirmation that Jeonghan might’ve actually never seen as you as anything more than an outlet to alleviate his carnality. That, once the Love Café ordeal was finally over with, he could forget you had ever existed like erasing a mistake of smudged lead. The thought made you glassy-eyed and thus, terribly vulnerable. However, you also craved the truth to your relationship.

“Just admit it,” you beseeched him, “admit that you want me only for sex and nothing else. Is that why you didn’t bring up the Galleria? Because you think it’s easier to shove me in the dark when it’s convenient for you? Is that why you were acting so mad?”

He skimmed a hand exasperatedly through his hair. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m not dating Baejin behind your back, I have never once thought you weren’t good enough to show off to my parents, and I didn’t purposefully hide the Galleria from you.”

“Right,” you scoffed, “but you’re fine with labelling me as a friend and pretending like we don’t hook up every week.”

“It’s…” he clenched his teeth and growled in frustration, “it’s complicated, alright? Can’t you just accept that?”

“Complicated?” A shudder coursed down your spine at having to repeat the boy, and the tears sprung from your eyes with such a sharp sting that it became impossible to hold them back. You felt each drop, cold and runny, drip along your face. “That’s the word you’re going to use? You’re going to look straight at me, after the entire span of our relationship since the Love Café, and tell me we’re summed up best as complicated?” Again, the word struck you like a stiff punch. If he was going to regard your connection so trivially, then you didn’t care whether or not he knew the verity of your heart. Like it would affect him anyways.

“I would’ve said we were in love,” you shrugged, watching his expression drop in a mere instant, “but—sure, let’s call it complicated.”

And, with the tears shining like salt stars on your face, you stalked out the building into the softening winter weather.

You didn’t know it could be so difficult to ignore someone, especially when you were supposed to hate them. The effect Jeonghan had on you was almost phantom-like; a constant lingering, even if the boy himself wasn’t palpable and poised right before your eyes.

It had been three days since the outburst at the Galleria. That night, you cried, and wept, and broke out the amber bottle stored beneath your sink which was only sipped from in occasions of complete misery – very well suited to the situation at hand. You had questioned calling the Love Café’s customer service desk to issue a termination of your card, and, at one point, you were standing drunkenly by the toilet contemplating your decision to rip up the red paper and flush it. Though, nothing ever came of either idea. Instead, you faceplanted onto your bed and allowed the intoxicated dizziness to fade black. The next morning, you were faced with multiple texts from Jeonghan, missed phone calls, voice notes. But you didn’t listen or respond to anything.

Complicated. That was the word you kept hearing.

Absolutely not, you had thought that morning, you weren’t ready to speak with him, even if the temptation seemed like it could be promising. The air was still too bitter. And you couldn’t handle another argument.

On the second day after the outburst, you were seated at the receptionist desk in the salon, flicking through a magazine while you became increasingly mindless to the humming of the blow dryer and the potent fragrance of the hair products. When you glanced out the window, you nearly combusted, as both Joshua and Jeonghan were about to enter the salon together, hurrying in from the melted snow and winter’s final downpour. You hid in the breakroom until they left, forcing your co-worker to take your position at the desk. Joshua was apparently getting his hair trimmed while Jeonghan had asked about you at the reception.

“He’s gorgeous!” Your co-worker had immediately gushed to you in the breakroom. “Why are you avoiding someone like that?”

“It’s complicated.” You’d phrased it simply.

Dang it. You hated the fact you’d used that stupid word.

But, on the third day, most of your bitterness was gone.

After breakfast, you were back at the vanity mirror to prepare for work, and while you buffed some makeup to sit seamlessly on the skin with your puffy foundation brush, there was a knock at your door. This time, you didn’t bother peeping through the fisheye lens, because you knew exactly who it was – damn his persistence. Jeonghan’s brown hair had been slightly mused in the wind, and there was a glow as soft as a peach to each his cheeks. But that easygoing, relaxed smile was by far the most heart fluttering. He extended a coffee cup to you. When you reached out, Jeonghan suddenly pulled the coffee away with a tsking sound.

“You can have it only if—” he held up his finger, “you agree to let me in so I can explain myself. Yes, I’m bribing you. And yes, I’m an asshole from time to time. But five minutes at least. That’s all I need.”

For a moment, you wavered, only to mutter a resounding, “fine.”

Despite Jeonghan’s company, you still had work to get ready for, so the boy followed you into the bedroom. He took a seat on the edge of your mattress while you settled back into the vanity chair. Picking through your jar of makeup brushes, you plucked a round, oval-tipped one to apply your eyeshadow. Jeonghan was silent at first, watching you through the mirror as you hurried about the look. It wasn’t perfect, in fact it was a bit sloppy and rushed and there was already some fallout  sitting like a glittered dust on your cheeks, though Jeonghan was staring at you with such fondness, you wondered if the mirror was reflecting the same image. Of course, the Love Card was sitting on your desk too.

“Well,”  you spun around in the chair, pressing your lips together, “I’m waiting for you to explain, y’know. Like you said you would. Technically, you’ve lost a couple minutes, and I should really try to be at the salon early, but I’m still going to give you full time since—"

“I love you.”

“… What?”

“I love you,” Jeonghan repeated himself casually, a slow smile spilling from each corner of his mouth, “I’m in love with you, as deep as I could be, I think. Anyways, you want me to keep saying it? I love you.”

It felt like someone had taken a picture with the blinding glare of its flash, a picture you couldn’t be more unprepared for, the dots still dancing and fumbling across your vision. The moment was disorienting, but you experienced a very fulgurant warmth take shape inside you. It was comforting yet daunting, a sugar rush and a hangover, something so alive you knew you wanted it more than anything else in the world.

Yet, “you… are in love with me?” was all that you could express.

Jeonghan fiddled with the coffee cup in his hands. “You’re a funny girl, you know that? But I can say it a fifth time if you want.”

“N-No, I—I just, I wasn’t expecting—”

“Yeah, I can see that, “ he’d laughed, though it quickly fell into a sigh and suddenly Jeonghan’s temperament had shifted. “Look, I know that night wasn’t pretty. I know I ghosted you. I know I didn’t tell you about the stupid Galleria,” the boy glanced up, catching your eye, “but… I didn’t say anything because I was confused. I knew your Love Card only had one signature left, and just like that… you could be in my bed for the last time. If we’re really gonna get sentimental about it,”

Jeonghan chuckled, scratching his chin a bit shyly, “it could be my last time holding you, and kissing you… I just, I didn’t want it to be like that. But I didn’t know how to confront you about it, so I hid. And I stressed myself out, and I got so stupidly jealous and angry when I saw you with Joshua. That was my bad. I should’ve been upfront.”

Tucking your hands together anxiously in your lap, you nodded, beginning to understand the missing pieces.

“Thank you for saying that.” You murmured, tapping your feet in a nervous rhythm against the floor. “I… I was being unreasonable and jealous too,” you subsequently admitted, “I was assuming things about you and Baejin when I shouldn’t have. I don’t know what I was expecting anyways, that you act like she doesn’t exist? It was dumb, and I was adding pressure. I’m sorry too.” Wanting to lighten the tone, you smiled at him, “I guess we both have our flaws, huh?”

He returned the tender glance and held out the coffee cup.

“I guess we do.”

You grabbed it politely.

Turning around in the chair, you grabbed the bright red Love Card off the vanity, initialed until its last circle, “what should we do with this? I mean, we kind of messed up their rules, fooling around more than twelve times. And, well, I’m not gonna renew it.”

“Oh, let me see.” Jeonghan said.

As soon as you passed the card to him, he ripped it clean in half, crumpled each piece, balled them together in his hands and tossed the shreds into the trash can sat in the corner.

“Well, that was fucking easy,” he smiled, getting up from the mattress, “aren’t you late for work? Do you need a drive?”

You looked at your alarm clock.

“If you can get me there in the next ten minutes, that’d be great.”

Jeonghan headed to the front door while you hurriedly grabbed your coat from the closet and snatched your bag off the floor, resting the strap over your shoulder. With the coffee still in hand, you headed into the living area, looking around in one final swoop to make sure you had everything packed for the day. A sheet of sunlight spilt into the room from outside the window, pale, like the morning sky, yet filling every crevice of the cheap apartment with a dull shine. And for a very fleeting moment, you thought this place wasn’t so abhorrent. It had been your home, your stepping stone, a thumbprint which identified a period of hardship and growth. But, despite this bittersweet taste on your tongue, you couldn’t envision yourself staying.

“Come on,” Jeonghan pinched your hip, “at this rate I’ll get a speeding ticket trying to get you to work on time.”

Turning around, you stuck a kiss to the boy’s cheek, just catching the cool beginning of a smirk on that dazzling face of his as you interlaced your fingers and pulled him into the corridor.

No, you could not stay here.

Not when your future was with Jeonghan.

✧✎ a/n: yeah, so this was clearly A LOT longer than the original love café teehee. i remembered the plot vaguely therefore i refused to reread my first version weufhewif PLS IT MAKES ME CONVULSE SO BAD !! i just had to rewrite the plot and do it some actual justice! i hope this version is a lot better and that you rly enjoyed it! i wish yjh would give me money but i guess we can’t all live in a fantasy world!! thx for reading!!

[erwinsvow]

𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟

for the 𝐝𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 collab <3

summary: you've always been fond of your step-brother, jean, despite how much he tries to avoid spending time with you. he finally reaches his breaking point when he sees you talking to eren, though.

warnings: step-cest, slight manipulation (reader), possessive behavior, teasing + edging, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), degradation, rough sex, creampie, jean is a good boy and reader is a fiend

author's note: i hope everyone likes this!!! i'm thinking about creating a step-cest series, let me know who should be next! tagging the lovely @yeagerslut & sending a big thank you for creating this collab! <3

Jean can never really peel his eyes away from you, no matter how hard he tries. At first it was subtle glances, like staring at the exposed skin of your supple thighs from his place beside his mom, when she was first introducing you and your father to him.

His first thought, besides the fact that it’ll be nice to have a sibling in the house with him every once in a while, is that your dress is incredibly short. So short that he wonders how you’re allowed to leave the house in something like that. If it was up to him, he wouldn’t let you, that’s for sure.

He quickly remembers that it’s not up to him, and that it’s not his place to be worrying about the length of your hem. Jean tries to suppress the strange, sudden burning feeling in his chest when he thinks about you wearing something as short as that when he has his friends over. No, that won’t be allowed.

He’ll have to tell someone about it, at some point, because he can’t stand the unusual jealousy he feels stirring at the idea of one of his friends looking at you while you’re wearing that.

His thoughts are cut short when his mother tells you two to get acquainted, while your dad and her head to the kitchen to prepare dinner. Jean almost doesn’t want them to leave, doesn’t want to be left alone with you and those legs and that dress, but he doesn’t have any say in the matter.

Your first words to your new step-brother are carefully calculated. In fact, you've been deciding everything carefully. The way you did your hair, the dress you’ve chosen that’s much too short for a family dinner but it’s not like someone can stop you, even the pink lip gloss you reapplied in the car before entering the house. Everything has its purpose, its place, with one goal in mind: see how long it takes for Jean to crack.

“I’m so excited to finally have a big brother, Jean!” you let out in a cheerful, chirpy voice that doesn’t match your insidious thoughts at all. You close the bridge separating you two with a few steps, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into a hug.

It’s so sudden, so unforeseen that he stumbles a little, letting his tall figure be pulled by your efforts and arms wrapping around your waist for support. And before he knows it, the sweet smell of your perfume is invading all his senses and leaving him with nothing to think about except you.

He takes it all in, the lingering scent of shampoo in your hair, something fruity, he thinks off-hand, the feel of your soft skin on the back of his neck, your cheek against his, but especially the way your breasts feel against his chest.

He pulls away before you want him to, and you begrudgingly allow him to, recognizing what a challenge it’ll be. But you’re always up for a challenge.

The first few months pass by in the blink of an eye for you, and dragging on and on for him. Jean tries to avoid interactions with you since that first meeting, but it’s hard to when you’re living in the same house as him. Even harder when your bedroom is right next to his, his mother offering up his assistance to help you move boxes and get settled while she and her new husband go out to dinner.

It’s ridiculous, the way he flushes bright red when he opens boxes and suitcases filled with clothing he doesn’t want to look at, all short skirts and sun-dresses and delicate panties that he tries and fails not to stare at.

You keep your gaze away, knowing exactly which suitcase you had given him to unpack, while you organize books on the shelves of the room and sort knick-knacks.

“Won’t it be nice sharing a wall?” you comment, adjusting a frame on your nightstand and not meeting Jean’s eyes. “I think it’ll be fun to have you so close.”

Jean chokes on the water he was drinking, gasping for air and trying to process your words all at once, when you finally turn around and smile. A smile that he thinks should be illegal, given the way it’s innocence personified when you’re actually a little devil.

He leaves a little bit after that, calling out that he’s not hungry when you knock on his door for dinner, but you don’t miss the way he sounds breathless, or the panties missing from your drawers.

Every challenge gets easier, right?

It doesn’t take long for your behavior to get a little out of hand, especially when the two of you have so much alone time together. Your parents are gone all the time, frequenting dinner parties and double dates, and not coming back until late at night.

Jean tries his best to keep away. While he had once been the friend whose house was always available for sleepovers, movie nights, and the like, he was now keeping everyone away. Every time your parents’ car left the driveway, Jean followed suit, either hopping into Connie’s Jeep or walking the short distance to Sasha’s place and leaving you alone.

He was hoping no one would notice, but of course someone did, and of course that someone was Eren.

“We can’t do my place again,” Sasha says, absentmindedly reaching for the bag of chips which Connie yanks out of her reach. “My dad’s having people over.” A swat to the back of Connie’s head gets her back the snack quickly.

“How come we can’t do Jean’s place like usual?” Eren asks, reclining back in his seat and enjoying the panicked expression on Jean’s face. “There something wrong with that new sister of yours?” Jean chokes back a cough.

“No.”

“Does she always have friends over, or something?”

“No.”

“Then it’s settled,” Eren says, bringing his hands together. “Jean’s place it is.” Shit, Jean. Better come up with something quick.

“We- we can’t do my place!” he sputters out much too loudly, meeting the gaze of every person in the room.

“Any reason why, Jean-bo?” Eren asks.

“I- we- what if she’s not okay with having a bunch of loud-mouthed idiots sleeping over?” Shitty, but it’s the best he can think of when he’s so concerned with keeping everyone away from you.

If you behave like that with parents in the house, how are you gonna behave with his friends around? He doesn’t wanna take the chance to find out.

“How about you call and ask, dumb-ass?” Connie suggests, shoving his phone at him and waiting with a confused look. Jean lets out a defeated sigh, knowing how this phone call will go.

Your loud, chirpy “I’m perfectly fine with that, silly! I’ve been waiting to meet your friends..” can be heard through the phone and answers Eren’s question.

Jean searches for a reason, any reason really, to keep this sleepover from happening, but realizes that he’s failed miserably when all his friends appear, clad with pillows and overnight bags, on his front door. “So,” Eren begins, with a wolfish grin on his face that Jean wants to punch right off, “Where’s the sister? It’s only polite to say hi, right?”

As if you’d been waiting for the cue, you poke your head out from the living room, that very same innocent and sweet smile gracing your face.

“Hi,” you, stepping out to greet his friends in the foyer. “It’s so nice to meet you all.”

Jean immediately regrets the fact that he never had that conversation with you about the length of your dresses. It always sat in the back of his head somewhere, though it was incredibly easy to dismiss when you would come sit next to him on the couch, dress riding up frequently and exposing more skin that he somehow always found himself entranced by.

Today the dress of choice is yellow, and though it does, in fact, cover everything it needs to, it doesn’t leave much to the imagination either. Jean almost feels like a schoolboy again, blushing at exposed shoulders and thighs, but he can’t help it when you’re clinging right to his side as you greet his friends.

“I’m Eren-”

“Hi, I’m Connie-”

“Ignore these two, I’m Sasha-” All meet each other at once. You let out a laugh at your step-brother’s funny friends, glancing up to see his expression, but all you see are signs of anger. Your smile dims a little, but picks right back at up when you notice the way Eren looks at you, and the way Jean looks at Eren.

A plan is working itself into creation in your head before you can help it, deviousness taking a hold on you as you smile brightly in favor of Eren over Jean. Your step-brother’s been keeping his distance all this time, but you’re about ready to force his hand.

You don’t miss the way Jean’s jaw tightens, his hand clenching into a fist at his side as he guides the group to the living room. Your original plan changes quickly, following them into the space and taking your usual place on the couch as you scan the various video games laid out.

“Eren, will you sit with me?” you ask in a gentle tone, one that Jean is all too familiar with. “I don’t know this game, can I watch you play first?”

“Don’t you have work to do, or something?” Jean blurts out without thinking, his only thought centered around getting you out of the room and as far away as he can.

“What work? It’s summer,” you reply, watching your step-brother’s cheeks turn red.

You’re not helping matters for Jean, as he watches Eren sit where he usually does, teeth clenched so hard his jaw hurts. He doesn’t think he could get more angry, until he notices Eren’s hand move to your knee, squeezing quickly but lingering entirely too long. There must be steam coming out of Jean’s ears at this point, watching this interaction between you two.

“Yeah, Jean, she can stick around to watch. Anything for your little sister, right?” “I’m not that much younger than you guys, you know,” you reply with a laugh, adjusting your position on the sofa and purposefully lifting the skirt of your dress for a second before letting it settle. If someone were looking, which both Jean and Eren were, they’d catch a glimpse of black panties, and they both did.

Jean is seeing red now, standing up without realizing why, ready to yank Yeager away from you, when the doorbell rings again. It stops Jean in his tracks. “That must be Marco,” Sasha reminds, looking up from the games to glance at Jean with confusion. “Aren’t you gonna go get that?”

“Y-yeah. I’ll be right back.” Jean locks eyes with you as he leaves the room, and you dejectedly sigh, leaning away from Eren. It’s no fun to mess around with another guy if Jean’s not there to see.

He guides Marco into the living room, and you greet him with a quick smile before giving your full attention back to Eren.

The next few hours are fun for you, and unbearable for Jean. Every time he spared a glance to you, you were pouring over Eren, asking questions about the game and insisting on clarification, leaning in much too close and supporting yourself on his shoulder as he explained another trivial rule to you.

Jean didn’t like any of it, not the way you laughed sweetly and played with your hair while talking to Eren, not the way your legs were on display and Eren’s sleazy hands kept finding its way back to them, none of it. What he couldn’t stand, though, was how you didn’t shy away from his touch and found any and every way to keep it going.

He’s at his limit when you go to your bedroom after dinner to change into pajamas, knowing what to expect from your nightwear. If he’s lucky, you’ll pick a big t-shirt and shorts, but he’s seen first-hand the silky slips and cotton sets you prefer to sleep in.

Jean doesn’t think he can handle the look on Eren’s face if you come down the stairs wearing one of those, so he lets his anger do the thinking for a minute when the others are fighting over snacks and who gets the couch versus the floor.

Eren’s waiting near the bottom of the stairs, looking at something on his phone when Jean approaches and glances quickly to make sure you’re still in your room.

“You better knock it off, Yeager, I’m serious,” he says, trying to contain his anger and keep his voice down. His words come out in a low grumble that he barely recognizes, body stiff and trying his best to intimidate Eren. It doesn’t seem to be working. “Knock off what?” Eren questions nonchalantly, amused that his suspicions were proving to be correct. Looks like Jean had a little thing for his step-sister after all.

Jean’s eyes unwittingly flit to the top of the stairs again, before he forces his gaze back to Eren, but the quick gesture isn’t missed by his so-called friend.

“Oh, I see. You want me to stop being so buddy-buddy with your step-sister, huh? You better tell that to her first, you know. She’s been all over me since the minute I met her.”

The sly smirk playing on his lips only makes Jean want to cave his face in all the more.

“You better watch it, you son of a-” Eren clicks his tongue to interrupt Jean.

“Come on now, Jean, you can’t really expect me to stop. I mean, it’s not like she’s my sister, right?” Eren says, with a strange look in his eyes as though he was tempting Jean to blow his cover.

Eren walks away to rejoin everyone in the living room, leaving Jean seething by the stairs and you in your bedroom, pressed against the door and clinging onto every word.

All night you had known Jean was getting agitated by your constant flirting and touchiness with Eren, but he hadn’t been close to cracking, or so it seemed. The fact that he even confronted Eren had your heart pounding in your chest, wondering if tonight might finally be the chance you had been waiting for. You hear Jean’s heavy foot steps walk away, and you decide that it’s all or nothing, now.

You leave your room and close the door gently, dressed in a pink camisole and shorts that were sure to get Eren’s attention for long enough for Jean to finally crack.

Just as you began the descent down the stairs, you heard footsteps coming back and were greeted with Jean at the foot of the stairs.

The look in his eyes was something you hadn’t seen before, something entirely different from the reserved, hesitant Jean you had gotten so used to.

No, this Jean was someone else, a mix of want and desire and shame pooling in his pretty eyes, looking at you as though you were the prey he had finally cornered.

Before you know it, Jean is in your bedroom and your back is pressed against the door roughly as his lips stay on yours and refuse to pull away. His tongue is hot in your mouth, and his hands feel as though they’re burning your skin with the heat they are radiating, groping your ass and the soft skin of your back as he explores your body. All the things he’d wanted to do for these last few months, that he’d forced himself to repress, finally coming out.

You moan into Jean’s mouth at the sudden feel of his hands on your tits, grabbing blindly and pinching your nipple roughly and suddenly, causing the moan to turn into a loud squeal. Jean clasps his free hand over your mouth.

“Shh, now,” he begins, staring into your eyes and making your core heat up uncomfortably as you realize your little challenge was finally over. You feel the wetness between your legs growing, pussy throbbing just at seeing Jean be so dominant for once. “We don't want anyone to hear, do we?”

You shake your head quickly to answer his question, having completely forgotten about the multiple guests just a floor away. You expect Jean to pull away, to tell you that he’ll take care of you after they’re all gone, some other time, but he doesn’t.

He pulls his hand away and leads two fingers to your mouth, guiding them into your willing mouth, latching your lips around them and sucking while swirling your tongue, getting them wet as he wanted.

“You know how long I’ve wanted this? Huh? Since the day I met you, that’s how long. And you’re such a fucking tease all the time, you know how unbearable it's been?” Jean says in a deep voice, his eyes observing your mouth continuing its work. You moan around his fingers, wanting to speak but no words come out.

He pulls his fingers away and leads them straight to your throbbing pussy, running one up and down your slit teasingly as you hold back a loud moan.

“P-please, Jean, please do something, I- oh!” Jean shoves the two digits into your tight hole without any warning at all, causing your whole body to shake at the sudden fullness.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it, you dirty slut? You wanted your big brother to get fed up and fuck you senseless, didn’t you? Say it,” he orders, fingers pumping in and out and his hand grazing your clit with every motion, causing you to moan as your body tenses. You can hardly process his words because of the pleasure you’re feeling, but his other hand finding your throat brings you back quickly.

“Say it. I won’t ask again.”

“Y-yes, Jean, I-I wanted big brother to fuck me, oh, yes-” You lose your thoughts again as his pace increases, making you squeal again before you clamp your mouth shut to make sure no one hears you. Your stomach is tensing and you know you’re so, so close, one more touch from Jean would have your orgasm washing over you like lightening spreading through your body, when he suddenly stops.

You gasp loudly at the sudden emptiness, feeling your orgasm dissipate as you buck up and clamp down against nothing at all. Jean’s fingers are in his mouth, tasting your wetness as you try to catch your breath and protest against the way he’s teasing you, but your pleas are met by deaf ears.

“Jean,” you moan desperately, clinging to his shoulders, “please, please, let me cum, please-”

“No. Filthy sluts that mess around with their big brother’s friends don’t get to cum,” he says gruffly, as you whine again and try to release yourself from his tight grip. It’s useless since he has you caged in, firm hands on your waist dragging you to the bed and throwing you on top of the soft covers.

“Please, I promise I’ll be a good girl,” you plead, using your sweetest voice and big. teary eyes to win Jean over, but it’s still useless.

“I said no,” he repeats, hovering over you and his hands finding their way to the bottom of your camisole. He pulls the skimpy top off of you quickly, revealing your tits. Your nipples harden at the sudden cool air, and Jean’s fingers find them once again, pinching and teasing as you moan into your pillow, desperately bucking your hips up for contact between your legs, to no avail. His hot mouth finds your nipple, flicking with his tongue as his hand plays with the other, before he pulls away quickly.

You whine again at the loss of stimulation, before you see Jean pulling down the band of his grey sweatpants and leaning back against the headboard.

“Prove to me that you deserve big brother’s cock,” he says, revealing his hard dick as it snaps against his stomach. “With your mouth. Now.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You reposition yourself, ass in the air and head at Jean’s crotch as you stare at his pretty, pink cock with wide eyes. You’d expected him to be big, but not like this, though you don’t have time to dwell on it as he grips it firmly and taps the angry, pink tip against your lips.

You hang your tongue out, spit collecting and falling all over his length before you finally take as much as you can into your mouth, sucking and swirling as your hands move up and down the rest that you can’t take.

“Just like that-” Jean begins before breaking into a loud moan. You pop him out of your mouth and keep stroking with your hands as you whisper for him to shush.

“What happened to being quiet, and everyone downstairs will hear, and-” You’re interrupted as Jean grips his cock and shoves it back into your mouth, gagging suddenly at the unexpected movement.

Jean stares at your obedient mouth, following his instructions without any sign of the brat he was so used to. As you cup his balls in your hand, he feels them tighten and knows he’s not gonna last much longer like this. He guides your head away from his cock, admiring the drool and spit on your face and the glassy eyes he’s longed to see.

“Jean, I wanna-”

“I don’t care what you want, sweetheart,” he says, a false sweetness in his voice that’s making you feel dizzy. “You’re gonna ride me now, you got that?”

Jean’s hands are firmly set on your hips, positioning you just as he wants as you hover above his leaking cock. You grind down quickly, desperate for friction on your throbbing clit, before Jean stops your motions with the tight grip he has on you. “Are you gonna make me repeat myself?” he questions, in a tone that makes you positive that you don't want to make him angry. You shake your head immediately, taking his dick in your hand and lining it up with your wet hole, before slowly sinking down.

“Oh, god-!” you let out, before clasping a hand over your mouth. You had never felt quite so full before, the stretching burn making heat course through your whole body, as you bottom out and clench hard. “Come on, baby, you know how long you’ve been begging for this? Don’t get shy on me now,” Jean says, and you regain your senses slowly. You start moving, up and down, just like he wants and speeding up as you feel your cunt gush against Jean.

You’re sure to be making a mess, but you can hardly care when your brain feels so cloudy and distracted at how good Jean feels inside you, and you start the grinding movement again. Jean entertains you for a minute, before grabbing your hips even tighter, nearly at a bruising grip now, and snapping his own hips to thrust into you.

You’re blabbering now, utterly senseless as Jean fucks you mercilessly. You know you’re being loud, but you just don’t care, not when Jean is hitting that one spot inside you that has you seeing stars before you know it, your hands on his shoulders and holding on for life.

“Are you close, baby? Are you gonna cum all over your brother’s big cock?” Jean teases, feeling you clench down harder and knowing he won’t be able to hold on much longer either. “Yes, yes, yes! Jean! Oh, Jean-” you finally feel the tight coil in your stomach snap, unaware of your own movements and surroundings as you focus on the pleasure Jean’s giving you. You yell out, cumming so intensely and shaking on top of Jean, twitching once more when you hear Jean groan and feel hot ropes of cum inside you.

Your throat feels dry and scratchy, heart pounding as you come down from your high. You feel Jean’s grip, much softer now, lead you off of his cock and lay you next to him on the bed. It’s a mess, and you don’t know how you’ll clean up with everyone downstairs and surely they’ve noticed you’re both still gone-but you still don’t care.

All you care about is the sound of Jean’s heart beat from your position on his chest, and the way his hands feel on your skin as he holds you close to his warm body.

“So,” he starts off quietly, “was it how you’ve been imagining it all this time?” You’re not looking at him, but you know he’s smiling.

“Mmh,” you hum contentedly, “even better.” You feel his body rumble with a laugh, and his hand reaches to cup your face and lean into you for a kiss. Just as your lips meet, you hear a sharp knock at the door.

“Might wanna hurry up, you two,” Eren calls out from the other side of the door. “The others are getting suspicious.”

[alcinadimitrescuwu]

The Portrait (An Alcina x Maiden Fanfic)

You walk into the Atelier and find yourself once again gazing at the portrait of the Lady of the Castle, Lady Dimitrescu. She must have commissioned the portrait when she was younger because she looked like she was in her mid-20’s. She stands in an ivory-colored dress with a full skirt, holding a glass of wine. Her face is clear of her laugh lines, under-eye circles, and wrinkles but she is still as elegant and beautiful as ever. You move closer to get a better look and suddenly wonder who might have painted this portrait. Were they close to Lady Dimitrescu?

“Do you like it?”

You whirl around swiftly and find yourself face to face with Alcina Dimitrescu. The corner of her mouth quirks up in an amused grin, making her laugh lines indent into her cheekbones. Her golden eyes are glittering with mischief.

“Well?” she prompts.

You come back to yourself. “I-It’s lovely, my Lady,” you stammer. “Did you commission someone to make it for you?”

Alcina lets out a laugh like tinkling bells. “Why, yes. In fact you could say that the two of us were rather close.” She steps closer to you and the portrait, a knowing smirk on her face. “It was actually me that painted that portrait.”

“You?” you blurt out suddenly. Then you realize how rude you must sound. "Forgive me, my Lady,” you say, ducking your head in apology. “I meant no disrespect. I just didn’t know you were the artistic type.”

“Oh, I’ve dabbled in a lot of different art forms in my life, pet,” she says, and you see her eyes mist over as she reminisces. “I was classically trained in opera, I’ve painted landscapes and portraits, written poetry...I even was a jazz singer for a time. I made that portrait when I was 25. I was a very different woman than the one you see now.” She smiles self-deprecatingly. “Well, aside from the obvious, anyway.”

“It’s exquisite,” you breathe as you lean your head to get a better look at the portrait. You think of something and turn to her. “Do you still paint, my Lady?”

“Lately I’ve taken to sketching. And now that you know my secret,” she says, giving you a conspiratorial wink. “Perhaps I might come in here and do my sketching while you clean.”

You suddenly remember the actual purpose of why you came to this room in the first place. “Right! I need to polish the bells! I’ll just get started on that, then!”

You hear her chuckle low in her throat as you scramble up the ladder, taking out your polish. You look over back at her and she has sat down on the sofa, slipping a pair of pearl chain half-moon spectacles over her nose. She takes out her pens and charcoal, flips to a new page in her sketchbook and bends her dark head down to work.

Soon you and Alcina have a little arrangement going where every time you enter the Atelier to work on your tasks, you know you will soon see Alcina ducking her head under the lintel to work on her sketching. While you are on the ladder, you sneak glances at her every so often. Her lashes kiss the tips of her cheekbones and her brow is furrowed in concentration. Sometimes you will look from her to the portrait and you conclude that if possible, her aging has made her even more beautiful.

You feel a hand on your back and jump making the ladder wobble slightly. The hand braces you against the ladder so you don’t fall and you hear a soft chuckle behind you. “I’m sorry, dear. I suppose I should have announced my presence beforehand. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s not a problem,” you say and you feel color flood your cheeks as you see you are truly face to face with Alcina Dimitrescu. Her face is merely inches from yours. Her golden eyes catch the light from the chandelier and up close you see they are not just golden but with hints of silver around the iris.

“There’s this spot around the gears that doesn’t get enough attention that I’d like to show you,” Alcina hands hover around your waist. “May I?”

You nod your consent and she gently moves you on the ladder until you’re on the other side. She bends down and whispers in your ear. “Just between the cog and the gear. Do you see it?” The smell of her perfume is intoxicating. You nod that you understand and she smiles. “Good! I know you always do a thorough job and I wanted to bring that to your attention.” With that she settles back down and resumes her sketching.

This goes on for a while, you working while Alcina is sketching. Occasionally she will take a break and stand nearby observing you as you work. You find it difficult to concentrate when she is around but she eventually smiles to herself saying, “Yes. Very good,” before returning to her seat. A couple times you are not certain but you think you might have seen a flush creep up her cheekbones before she resumes her sketching.

A couple of weeks of this go by and you notice Alcina is not satisfied with the progress of her drawing. You see that she is erasing more often and often starts from a completely new page in her sketchbook. “No, no, this isn’t right!” you hear her say aloud one day. You chance a look at her as you are on the ladder polishing the candlesticks. She is furiously scribbling on the sketchpad and when a loose lock of her ebony hair falls into her eyes, she pushes it impatiently away. You try to lean down further to get a better look. You’ve seen how talented she is, surely the sketch couldn’t be that bad…

Suddenly you feel the ladder twist from under you as you lose your balance. Your arms pinwheel helplessly in the air as you try to regain your footing but to no avail. You shut your eyes tight as you fall, hoping at the most you’ll just sprain an ankle.

Instead of the hard floor, you fall into something soft. You open your eyes and jolt back as you see Alcina’s aureate eyes staring back into yours. She chuckles. “It appears I cannot do much but startle you these days it seems.” She looks at you with a concerned expression. “Are you all right, dear?”

“Yes, my Lady, I’m fine,” you mumble. You blush scarlet as you are very aware that her gloved hand is on your upper thigh, your skirt riding up in her haste to catch you. She becomes aware of this too and smoothes your skirt down, murmuring an apology, but not before you catch the blush in her cheeks.

She turns her head quickly away to hide it, her hat covering her profile. “Would you like to take a moment and rest, dear? You’ve been working so hard, you deserve a break.”

You nod soundlessly and she takes you over to the sofa where she has been doing her sketching. She closes her sketchbook with a snap before you can get a good look at it.

A maid arrives with Alcina’s afternoon tea. “Set out an extra cup for Y/N, if you please,” she commands the parlor maid. The maid nods and pours you both cups of steaming apple cinnamon tea, perfect for a cold winter’s day.

When the maid bows and leaves, you turn to Lady Dimitrescu. You clear your throat. “Um, my Lady?”

She smiles at you over her teacup. “Yes, pet?”

You can’t help it. You’re positively burning with curiosity at this point. “What have you been drawing?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

Alcina’s cheekbones flood with color. “Oh, it’s nothing special really,” she says hurriedly. “Just some scribbles.”

You can hardly believe it. Was Lady Dimitrescu, usually so full of pride and grace, embarrassed? You see a scrap of paper on the ground near the sofa and pick it up. Alcina tries to stop you but you’ve already turned it over in your hands. You let out a little gasp of surprise as you see what Alcina has been drawing all this time.

There on the paper is a charcoal drawing of you polishing the bells. In the corner of the page is a closeup of you, your face shining in the chandelier light.

You look back at her, your mouth open in shock. When you finally gain the ability to form words, you ask, “Is this what you’ve been working on all this time, my Lady?” you ask quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Alcina nods and opens her sketchbook to show even more pages of you. You staring at her portrait, you reaching up on your toes on the ladder to dust off a high shelf, you pouring her tea. There are pages upon pages of your likeness.

Alcina turns her head to face you. “I must confess that I had been in need of a new muse for my art,” she says. “When I saw you gazing at my portrait, something stirred within me. There is something about you that draws me to you.” She takes your chin gently in her gloved hand.

“Your hair,” she says, and she takes off your cap and settles your unbound hair about your shoulders. “Even pinned under your cap, it cannot conceal its beauty.” She takes your hand in hers. “Your skin,” she murmurs, pressing her lips to the back of your hand, making you feel a pleasant shiver go down your arm. “How it shines under the lamplight. Your eyes.” She is moving ever closer. “The way I could get lost in those fathomless depths. And your lips…”

Her face is so close to yours now, her lips parted. “What about my lips?” you whisper, scarcely daring to breathe.

You are not quite sure who closes the distance between you first, but you are suddenly in Alcina’s arms and you are kissing her fiercely, your hands weaving their way through her ebony locks. Her hands settle themselves around your waist as her tongue gently parts your lips. You lay back on the sofa and bring her head gently down with you. She braces one hand on the side of the couch while the other gently holds the back of your head.

The sound of the clock chiming startles you, making you break apart suddenly. Alcina lets out a girlish giggle. “We simply have to do something about those nerves of yours, draga mea,” she purrs. You smile and lift your head up to receive her kiss again.

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[Note]: The calls and moments accompany Victor’s Interflowing Date. Remember to read the date first, since it’s necessary to understand the context of their conversation! ♡

⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for contents that are yet to be released in the global server! ⌚

┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈

—

✧ [MOMENTS] ✧

Victor’s Post: A certain someone sneakily used Pudding’s moisturizer, but forgot to put it back in its original place.

–

⊳ OPTION A:

MC: I used it on Pudding!

Victor: Is that right? So the bunny furs stuck on the top must be Pudding’s too then.

–

⊳ OPTION B:

MC: You’ve found out. That’s so embarrassing...

Victor: In front of me, you don’t need to worry about that.

–

⊳ OPTION C:

MC: Then, have you noticed that my tail and ears have become much smoother?

Victor: They have always been smooth. No need to make these weird attempts.

—

–

✧ [First Call] ✧

Victor: That “Guidebook for Rearing Bunnies” on my office desk, did you buy it?

MC: Yup. Various kinds of rearing guidebooks have been popular among colleagues lately! After all, everyone has turned into animals...

MC: If we can understand the habits and properties of the animals better, perhaps we will be able to see another side of the people around us.

Victor: I think a certain someone needs to know that the Evol abnormality hasn’t actually turned people into animals.

MC: Just look at it from a different perspective. Who knows, perhaps you’ll feel like you understand me better?

Victor: In that case, let me take a look at this book you’ve given me.

Victor: The book says that bunnies have a powerful ability to cleanse themselves, and they do not require frequent bathing.

Victor: It looks like we can hang a sign on the bathroom at home. A certain someone can only use it once a month.

MC: ...this one doesn’t count!

Victor: Okay, so next. It says that bunnies live a solitary existence and will fight when they live together in a group.

Victor: According to this article, the key to the door should also be exchanged. A certain bunny mustn’t be allowed into the house.

MC: It doesn’t count, doesn’t count! Cats and bunnies don’t fight by any means!

MC: Don’t bunnies have even one habit that conforms to me?

Victor: Mm, there is one.

Victor: Bunnies are often nocturnal, and they eat during nighttime.

Victor: It does resemble a certain someone’s style.

MC: No wonder I’ve been craving late-night snacks recently. It seems that Evol abnormality is the one to be blamed for this!

Victor: Managed to find one common ground with great difficulty, and now you’re using it as an excuse for your gluttony?

MC: It’s true. I seem to be particularly hungry at night lately and seem to be sleepy...

Victor: I think the main culprit should be that “Guidebook For Rearing Cats” next to your pillow.

Victor: If you stay up late reading till 3 or 4 o’clock, it’s only natural that you will get hungry, and also feel sleepy the next day.

MC: I want to understand you better too. And also, it’s a really good book.

Victor: Whatever you want to know, you can just ask me directly.

Victor: No need to stay up all night as a price for that. And, the result will be far more authoritative than the book can give you.

—

–

✧ [Second Call] ✧

Starts at – 2:08

–

Victor: Why does the bathroom smell like peaches? What did you do?

MC: I bought a new bottle of peach perfume, and I accidentally spilled it while trying it out before leaving home. I guess it’s been permeating the air.

Victor: Why did you suddenly think of buying perfume?

MC: After the abnormality disappeared a few days ago, I was kinda missing the scent during that time. So, I went to the internet to do some research.

MC: Some experts have launched a scent laboratory. They can restore your unique scent during the period of Evol abnormality based on saliva samples.

Victor: So did this so-called laboratory ask you to fill out a survey questionnaire?

MC: Yeah. The questionnaire included my full name, gender, age, occupation, and the impression of my scent during the abnormality.

MC: Owh wait, isn’t that... I’ve bought another IQ tax product, haven’t I...

–

[Trivia]: MC uses the term “智商税 - (Zhìshāng shuì),” which literally translates to “IQ tax.” It’s a funny term in Chinese that refers to spending money on things without proper thinking i.e., practically the “obligation” for not using your brain HAHA~ :>

–

Victor: It’s still not too late to realize that now.

Victor: From an investor’s point of view, this scent laboratory has a flourishing market.

Victor: They analyze the consumer profile based on the information provided by the buyer using Big data statistics and orientate the consumer’s scent.

Victor: Large sum of the cost goes into the information collection for the calculation, while the costs of the chemical productions are almost negligible.

Victor: And the gimmick of saliva samples can coax people like a certain dummy into impulsive consumption, ensuring high sales and high profit.

MC: But, I feel like the scent of that peach is very similar to the one on my body...

Victor: It’s not.

–

[T/N]: He says that in a heartbeat and actually sounds offended while saying so haha~ i.e. nothing compares to “your” scent skasbksk ⁄(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

–

MC: Eh, can you smell the difference?

Victor: The fragrance of this perfume you bought is very strong. It also smells a bit cloying, and the base note makes people dizzy.

MC: And what about the scent of me then?

Victor: More fresh, simple, and elegant. The smell was more relaxing.

MC: So it actually was such a good smell! If I had known earlier... I should have figured out a way to preserve this scent. Now, what a shame!

Victor: There’s nothing to feel sorry about.

Victor: Even if it’s not preserved, I’ll always remember the scent of a certain someone.

Victor: All right. After your dinner party is over, come back home early.

Victor: If you want perfume, tomorrow we will go to the mall together and pick out a few more bottles.

—

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Omg can I please get a hannibal x a shy girl reader ? Like he’s really possessive of her and she doesn’t know how to handle it but she likes him so they date??

Sorry this took so long, anon. I’ve been bouncing ideas around and this one in particular, I believe, fits your request. Y/n feels out of place among Hannibal’s fancy friends and it becomes even more obvious when he abandons her at a party. 

Trigger warnings: social anxiety, sexual harassment, overstimulation

You and Hannibal had an agreement about large gatherings. He could only bring you to a party if you had a week's notice and at least three uninterrupted hours of gaming time prior to the event.

For this event, you needed a solid six.

One of the major Maryland universities was awarding a lucrative research grant to a student of clinical psychology, and every influential name in the industry was expected to be there. As a recent college grad with a bachelor's in business you didn't know what to do with, you couldn't imagine a less welcoming environment if you tried. You couldn't fit into their world and more importantly, you didn't want to. But the thought of being noticeably different in any situation was twice as terrifying. So you spent the whole week repeating your mantra; blend in, be quiet and make it through the night.

But Hannibal had different plans for you.

Halfway through the week, just when you'd pushed the party out of your mind, Hannibal presented you with a gift.

"What's the occasion?" You asked. You hoped that if you pretended not to know, it would just magically go away.

"I brought you something to wear on Friday." Hannibal answered, hanging the garment bag up on the bureau. "You know I'll take any excuse to dress you up."

He unzipped the bag and placed a black silk dress into your arms. "Try it on so I have time to get it altered if it needs it."

The material was cool to the touch and outlined your figure so perfectly, you felt even a little naked. Hannibal, of course, loved this. You were his own personal Venus de Milo. His goddess and his muse. 

“Yes, that will do nicely.” He observed, looking at you hungrily. 

“Seems a little short for a such a sophisticated event, doesn’t it?” You raised an eyebrow. The answer was yes and he knew it. He was very deliberate in everything he did. “I don’t want to come off the wrong way.” 

“And what way would that be, darling?” He asked, not taking his eyes off your figure. 

“I mean--” You searched for the right words. “It’s a gathering of the Mid-Atlantic’s most esteemed academics, I feel like, in a dress like this, I might be seen as, well, a...” 

“A prostitute?” Hannibal finished, choosing a much nicer word than you would have.

You looked down. “Yeah. It just doesn’t seem all that appropriate.” 

Hannibal approached you and lifted your chin slightly to look into his eyes. “Many Christian denominations believe that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute, yet she was Christ’s right-hand woman. She was first to see him crucified and first to witness his resurrection.” 

“Dr. Lecter,” You smirked. “I never would have taken you for a religious man.” 

“Goodness, no.” He shook his head. “But any reputable academic is expected to be familiar with biblical literature and its many contradictions and impossibilities.” 

“What does that have to do with me?”

“You are my divine feminine, Miss [L/N].” Hannibal said in a low whisper. “And I want everyone to see it. If they see a common whore, it would only be a reflection of their own jealousy.” 

Hannibal's rationalization almost made you forget about your fear of being noticed. Almost. It all came rushing back when you arrived at the event. Not one person your age was in attendance. The women wore long, flowing evening gowns that reached the floor. The length of your skirt alone guaranteed that all eyes were on you. In a simple black silk dress, you looked the very model of high society. Silk was a sign of luxury, and Hannibal wanted everyone to know that you were a woman of means. His woman, to be precise. That was why he brought you to these functions in the first place. To put you in a dress short enough for any wandering eyes so see the smattering of love bites running up your inner thighs. He wanted everyone in his field to know that you were completely and entirely his.

You realized too late that this was all his little exercise in showing you off.

Everyone seemed to know him. He only knew a handful of people by name, and you didn't know anyone.

"And who is this delightful young woman?" A woman with a light southern twang in her voice asked, looking at you as if you were a caged animal on display.

"I wasn't aware you had a daughter, Dr. Lecter." The young man beside her laughed. "Or is she your side piece?"

Your eyes scanned the room for the nearest exit. It would be unbecoming to make a scene, so you plotted a way to slip out quietly.

“Darling, meet Dr. Charlotte Ramset and her TA, David.” Hannibal introduced, notably ignoring the young man. “Dr. Ramset, this is my intended, [F/N] [L/N].”

"I didn't realize she was also a ventriloquist!" The lady, presumably Dr. Ramset, joked. You'd heard that one a million times. She looked at you. "Tell me about yourself, sweetie. What are you studying?"

The lady was old enough to be your grandmother and reeked of too much perfume.

"I graduated last year." You said, quietly. "With a BA in business."

"See, there's a good woman." David added. "Only speaks when spoken to. They don't make ’em like you anymore, baby."

Hannibal tightened his grip on your hand. "On the contrary, David. See, Miss [L/N] is quite a bit like myself. She only dignifies those she deems worthy with a response. There's nothing wrong with being selective."

The lady laughed at David's expense and smiled at you. "Good for you."

You smiled back just a little, not ready to bring your guard down yet. "I've had to deal with more than enough. It's best not to engage."

"Oh, I know, I know." The lady said, shaking her head. "That's how it is for us educated gals. Always having to put up with pigs. See, I went to college in the sixties, so I can tell you some real stories."

This was a new experience. Talking to Hannibal's friends and having them listen to you was something you never considered possible. Now, you were one of the educated gals. You were just about to strike up a conversation with this woman, when the man next to her decided someone desperately needed to play devil’s advocate.

“I find that sexist, actually.” He cut in. “Not all men are pigs.” 

The silence following his comment was deafening and you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Whatever progress Hannibal and Dr. Ramset made breaking down your defenses was completely reversed and you were ready to retreat.

Dr. Ramset took a long sip of wine and adjusted her shawl. “David, none of us said anything about men, you drew that conclusion yourself.”

“I mean, look at you.” David gestured to your dress. You knew exactly where this was going and you wished you could just disappear. “You’re basically asking for it.” 

Dr. Ramset glared at him. “David, that’s enough.” 

“I’m just stating facts.” David crossed his arms. “If you dress like a slut, what do you expect?”

Dr. Ramset and Hannibal seemed to have an entire conversation through prolonged eye contact before one of them broke the silence. 

"Charlotte, I hate to have to excuse myself so soon, but the president of the university is expecting me." Hannibal said, dropping your hand. Your heart hit the floor when you realized that he would be throwing you to the wolves.

"Of course, Dr. Lecter." She nodded. "Duty calls."

"I trust you'll keep an eye on my beloved [F/N] in my absence?" His voice hardened. The severity in his tone frightened you.

Dr. Ramset didn't seem disturbed or even surprised in the slightest by his gently threatening demand. "Of course."

"Thank you. And [F/N]?" He said, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. "I won't be going far. Please, try to have fun."

You tried not to look affronted, but you were going to have a long talk with Hannibal when you got home. 

"I'm just saying what everyone is thinking." David continued, his inability to take a hint positively astounding. "Why don't you respect yourself enough to cover up, [F/N]? You have a boyfriend!"

Your eyes scrolled across the room looking for any sign of Hannibal, but he was gone. Dr. Ramset finished her wine and stared at her TA with the resigned disgust of a death row jailer.

"Any other thoughts?" She said, snatching a fresh glass of wine. You looked at her with a clear expression of discomfort.

"Come on, do you see any other woman in the room dressed so provocatively?" David's voice broke mid-sentence. "No. Because they're educated enough to know that real men don't care about their bodies."

The hotel clerk approached the group. "Mr. Hosmer, there's a call for you."

David narrowed his eyes. "Uh, what?"

"Someone is on the phone asking for you." The clerk repeated. "Says it's an emergency."

David shrugged. "Fine."

Just when you thought you would be rid of him, at least for a moment, he planted his hands on your hips in attempt to "get by" you. His touch was like that of an insect crawling across your skin; unexpected, filthy and leaving you squeamish.

"I'm so sorry about that." Dr. Ramset's words echoed in your ears, but you didn't really hear them. You were too focused on grounding yourself to process what she was saying. 

“Dr. Ramset?” You said, quietly. “Which one is the president of the university?” 

She glanced at a tall woman in a dark blue suit, surrounded by equally important looking businesspeople. You followed her eyes. “That’s Dr. Mary Hosmer.”

Your ounce of righteous fury was squelched in two seconds when the reality of having to talk to someone, especially someone of stature, set in. You looked sheepishly back at Dr. Ramset. 

“Could you please ask her where Hannibal went?” You whispered. “I’d really like him to take me home now.” 

Her face turned sympathetic. “Of course, [F/N]. Stay right there.” 

You nodded. “Thank you.” 

Dr. Ramset crossed the floor and politely greeted the president. You took a few slow, calculated steps closer, just to get in earshot.

“Pardon me, but, have you seen Dr. Hannibal Lecter?” Dr. Ramset said, casually. 

“I wasn’t aware Hannibal had even arrived yet.” The president answered. “I haven’t seen him.” 

Your eyes widened. You fought the urge to freeze, but you had to move back before Dr. Ramset knew you’d been eavesdropping. You heard everything you needed and rushed back to where she’d left you.

“Dr. Hosmer said he stepped out.” She told you upon her return. “He should be back soon.” 

You tried not to show that you knew she was lying. “...oh.” 

“Would you like me to stay with you until he comes back?” 

You knew you were completely on your own. You didn’t know what was going on, but you had an inkling that it had to do with the president and David sharing a last name. All you knew for certain was that you couldn’t trust anybody. 

“Don’t bother.” You shook your head. You took off for the door, but Dr. Ramset grabbed your wrist. 

“I’m sorry, [F/N].” Her voice dropped to a low whisper. She didn’t look mad, but afraid. “But Dr. Lecter told me to stay with you. Please. Don’t make this harder for me.”

You recalled how seriously threatening Hannibal’s request was. She wasn’t answering to the president of the university. She was answering to Hannibal. You didn’t know whether to be scared or relieved. 

“Right.” You conceded, stepping back in. “I’m sorry.” 

The actual award ceremony was much longer than it needed to be, and it dragged on even longer knowing there was no reason for you to be there. Other than that, you awkwardly followed Dr. Ramset around the party like a lost puppy the whole time. You were back to your original plan: blend in, be quiet and make it through the night. 

Just when you thought the party would never end, someone tapped you on the arm. You turned around, hoping with every fiber of your being that it was Hannibal, but it wasn’t. A tall woman in a dark blue suit stared back at you. 

“I’m sorry to bother you, miss.” She said, apologetically. “But have you seen my son? I saw him talking to you and Dr. Charlotte earlier, perhaps he told you where he was going?” 

You’d pushed that man completely out of your mind. You shook your head. “He left to take a phone call and I haven’t seen him since.” 

A hand found your shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Hosmer, but I believe I saw the boy on his phone out in the lobby.” 

“Dr. Lecter!” The president’s eyes widened. “How nice of you to finally join us.” 

“...Yes, I believe he left right after making unwarranted comments towards my intended here.” Hannibal ran his hand down your arm lovingly. 

“Well, boys will be boys.” The president chuckled. “Maybe you should teach your girlfriend not to wear such revealing clothes.” 

Hannibal smiled and pulled you in protectively. “Whatever the case, I hope you find him very soon.” 

Her phone chimed in her back pocket. “Oh, that’s him right now.” 

“Wonderful.” Hannibal said. “[F/N] and I will be taking our leave.” 

He hurried you towards the door, his hand tight around yours. A blood-curdling scream came from behind you. You looked back for just a moment and found the president hollering in pain and falling to her knees. 

“Let’s go, darling.” Hannibal tugged at your arm. “They don’t deserve your presence.” 

“Hannibal, I swear.” You said, once you were in the safety of the car. “If you killed every man who looked at me like a piece of meat, sooner or later, there won’t be any men left.” 

Hannibal smirked and reached for his seatbelt. “Wonderful.” 

[fific7]

Ticket to Ride - Part 1

Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: Inspired by The Beatles song of the same name. This takes place in my S1 Punisher AU with Arrogant!Billy in attendance. Billy gets a taste of his own medicine.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, including oral, between consenting adults* in some chapters. Drinking and swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My photo edit)

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

𝕀 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕀'𝕞 𝕘𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕤𝕒𝕕, 𝕀 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕚𝕥'𝕤 𝕥𝕠𝕕𝕒𝕪, 𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕙

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕘𝕚𝕣𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥'𝕤 𝕕𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕞𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕕 𝕚𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕨𝕒𝕪

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕖

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You were grabbing armfuls of clothes out of the wardrobe and dumping them into the three massive suitcases you’d laid open on the floor. If any of your friends had seen you at that point, they’d have said you looked like a woman possessed.

Finally, the wardrobe was empty of your clothes, and you moved on to the chest of drawers and then the bathroom. The contents were shovelled into a couple of large backpacks, as were various other bits and bobs from bedside table drawers and shelving units. In a surprisingly short space of time, you’d packed up everything that belonged to you in this damned apartment.

That left you just two very quick things to do, and you could then somehow get all this luggage downstairs into the lobby and get the hell out of Dodge.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The receptionist at the airport hotel you were booking into looked at the amount of luggage you had with you, and studied your face again carefully. No doubt she was wondering if you were a celebrity. Obviously deciding that there was an outside chance that you were but she just hadn’t recognised you, you were given an upgrade on the room without even asking for one.

Plopping down onto the bed once you’d got into your room, you rummaged around in one of the backpacks until you found your laptop, connecting it to the hotel WiFi. Opening one of the major airlines’ websites, you began scrolling through the destinations offered from JFK.

So many to choose from!

Now to plan your getaway.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy Russo got back home really late. He was going to be in trouble, no doubt about it... he hadn’t even texted because he hadn’t wanted to face any questions about what he was doing and when he’d be home.

Opening the apartment door, he was surprised to find it in darkness. Oh... had she gone to bed already? That wasn’t a good sign. He switched on the lights and immediately noticed a sheet of paper and a photo frame lying prominently on the kitchen island.

Walking over, he didn’t even have to pick up the note to read it. There was only one word, printed large.

“Goodbye.”

His stomach knotted and then he looked at the photo frame lying next to it. The photo was the one which was usually on the bedside table, a favourite of his.... she was sitting on a bar stool and he was behind her, his arms right around her. Both laughing into the lens as the photo was taken.

The photo was still in the frame, but it was torn in two.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Finally, by the next morning you’d decided on London. You’d never been, and quite honestly wanted to lose yourself in another big city. Flight booked, an AirBnB apartment booked for two weeks and you didn’t need a visa, so you were all set.

Now just one more thing to do. You opened up the box containing your new mobile phone and fitted the SIM card into it. After about twenty minutes of entering contact details and various apps onto it, you took your original phone and called Karen.

Her bored voice answered so you knew she was already at work, but she perked up when she heard your voice.

“Hi honey! How’re things? Wanna meet up for lunch today? I’m bored and I need a good gossip.”

You were a freelance copy writer and so you were your own boss. There were one or two assignments you were currently working on, but you could work from anywhere you could get a WiFi connection, so that wasn’t a problem.

“Uhhh, sadly not darling, I’m flying to London this afternoon.” You could hear her intake of breath, then she squealed, “Oh you lucky woman, how’d you manage to land an assignment like that?”

You gave a bitter little laugh, “I’ve left Billy.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy had sat on his sofa for a long time after he’d seen the note and photo. At first he’d just had to sit down, overwhelmed, as he had the most horrible feeling that his world was crashing down around his ears.

She was the one person who made him feel safe and loved. But he knew only too well that he’d been walking the line recently what with the situation at Anvil and having to keep Madani sweet. He hadn’t actually crossed the line, but he’d had to make sure she thought that he would, and soon at that. Would he have crossed it? He’d need to get back to himself on that question.

Of course he’d mentioned none of this to his girl. But obviously - somehow - he mustn’t have done a very good job at being discreet because she’d guessed something was up. And left him.

He’d poured himself a large whisky and downed it in one, before going over to the window and looking out forlornly at the city lights. Then he called Frank.

When he heard the gruff growl on the other end of the line, he said, “She’s left me, Frankie,” and realised how hoarse his voice sounded.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

“What?!” screeched Karen. You hadn’t divulged your recent secret fears to her, hoping against hope that you were wrong when you’d started noticing little things over the past few weeks. But now you gave her a full rundown of it all.

More and more claims of ‘working late’ and ‘being very busy at work’.

Alcohol on his breath after he’d been on these ‘working late’ evenings.

A distinct smell of CK’s Eternity from a jumper he’d left crumpled up in a corner on the bedroom floor when he’d been out extra late one evening.

The final straw? You almost laughed when you thought about it, as it was such a cliché. A smear of dark red lipstick on the inside collar on one of his otherwise pristine white shirts. And another unmistakable whiff of Eternity.

You’d never be able to wear that damn perfume again.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Frankie had been suitably sympathetic to start with, but had then begun to berate Billy for being ‘a stupid asshole’ once he’d explained what he’d been up to with Madani. “I didn’t sleep with her!” Billy grumbled, “....just messin’ around. You know we need to know what she knows.”

“Yeah, but women ain’t stupid, Russo! Were you goin’ home reeking of booze and another woman’s perfume?” Billy said nothing at first, just grunted but then said, “Maybe. Yeah.. probably.” “See!” said Frank, “...you’re a stupid asshole!” “I mean, she didn’t even challenge me on it!” Frank started laughing, “So that makes it her fault, huh!? You’re a piece of work, Russo.” “No, no.... I just meant, aren’t you supposed to have arguments about that kinda stuff first? She just up and left me!”

“I don’t blame her,” said Frank, “...and you know she’s not the type to take any BS from you, Bill. She probably thought it wasn’t worth her time listenin’ to you tryna give excuses for the inexcusable.”

Billy was reminded by this that one of Frank’s pet peeves was infidelity. “But I didn’t cheat!” said Billy forcefully. “Whaddya do, kiss her?” “Yeah.” “Feel her up a bit?” “Mmhuh.” “That’s cheatin’ in my book, Russo.” Billy realised he was hanging his head in shame, and quickly looked up and out of the window again.

“I dunno what to do, Frankie.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d given Karen your new number and told her on pain of death not to pass it on to anyone, even Frank and especially not to Billy. She’d assured you she wouldn’t, and neither would she tell them where you were headed.

She’d been fuming at Billy, and you wouldn’t like to be in his shoes the next time she happened to meet up with him. Her rage had been quite spectacular and she was really, really pissed that Billy hadn’t even tried to contact you. You didn’t say anything to her, but secretly you wondered if he’d actually spent the night with his side piece on this occasion and hadn’t even seen your note yet. Jealousy and anger began to take over and you stood up abruptly, determined that thoughts of that douchebag weren’t going to invade your brain.

You took the SIM card out of the phone, shut it down and tucked it away in one of your bags. Gathering all your stuff together, you began to get ready to leave the room..

Can’t wait to get on that plane, you thought.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Frankie rang Billy back a couple of hours later. “Micro tracked her phone,” he said without preamble. “Where is she? At Karen’s?” Billy asked anxiously. There was a pause, then, “Nah, Bill. She’s at JFK. And her phone’s switched off now.”

Billy, standing next to the window again, yelled, “Fuck!” before leaning his head against the cold glass. “Can Micro find out which flight’s she’s booked on, Frankie?” “He can try, but it’ll involve some hacking so it might take a little longer.” He paused again, before continuing, “And avoid Karen. She’s out for your blood.”

Billy sighed, “She’s spoken to her?” “Yeah, course she has, Bill. She knows more than she’s tellin’ me of course, but I’m not even gonna try askin’ her. Waste of time.” “It’s okay, I get it, Frankie. I wouldn’t ask you to. But if she does say anythin’.....” “I’ll let you know,” Frank finished the sentence for him and hung up.

Billy looked out of the window and then up into the sky. She wanted to get away from him so badly, she’d got a plane ticket and was about to fly.

He just prayed he’d be able to find her before she took off.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane @omgrachwrites @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @ourloveisforthelovely @swthxrry @odetostep

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

London

[cixthotshit]

A Cup of Rose Americano

Pairing: Bae Jinyoung x Original Female Character|Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Poor Girl/Rich Boy, Coffee Shop/Gangster AU (IDEK how I got here, just go with it)

Summary: There's more than meets the eye with every person, including Bae Jinyoung, the world's finest barista at Personal Barista Cafe

Word count: 4.7k

Rating/Warnings: Mature / Explicit Sexual Content: Porn With Some Plot, Kissing, Mirror Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Creampie

Author’s Note: I wanted to write a fluffy Coffee Shop AU but NGL something else has been preoccupying my mind and the world building to this fic kind of went off the rails and transformed into a completely different story. Enjoy this smut, readers! I really want to explore this world a lot more but IDK if I can commit to anything beyond this RN. So please, please enjoy this! Sorry in advance for mistakes! I don't always catch everything when I proofread.

I always appreciate some feedback on my writings!

"Really, it'll be a...new coffee experience," Hyeon assured Sandy. She handed Sandy a green card. It felt like an expensive platinum credit card, the card made of metal, feeling heavy and cold in her hand. "All you have to do is fill out a survey after you get your free coffee. Once you make it inside, hand the card over to your barista."

"Aren't you supposed to find actual volunteers?" Sandy asked, looking at the shiny card. The only thing on the card was the name of the new test cafe, PB Cafe.

“Trust me,” Hyeon said with a grin. “You’ve never had coffee like this. This is free, too. You’re going to say no to free coffee? And I swear, this is really me saying it, their coffee is really good.”

“Fine, thanks for the free coffee.”

“Enjoy!” Hyeon turned her back to Sandy, most likely scanning for potential test subjects for her new marketing event. Being her best friend, Sandy was always her first test subject. She didn’t know if Hyeon’s bosses approved of her taking advantage of all the free stuff she was receiving.

Sandy walked over to a shop that was setup at the southwest corner of a 3 story building. The walls were white and the windows were covered by white curtains. “PB Cafe” was written in black on the front door, though there were no door handles. Standing in front of the door, Sandy noticed a black square pad beside the right side of the door. She pressed the green card to the black pad and jumped slightly as the glass door slid open. A short piano tune played, sounding old but familiar, reminding her of old Hollywood movies from the mid-20th Century.

Tentatively, she stepped in. Walking past the white curtains, she found herself inside a small room. At the back end of the room was a small bar with one wooden chair in front of it. It only took her 4 steps to reach the chair, so she pulled it out and sat down. The wall behind the bar slid down to the floor and a broad shouldered man walked out from what looked like a bright white light before the wall slid back up behind him.

Too shocked to react, Sandy set the green card down onto the smooth marble countertop. Her eyes couldn’t leave the face of her barista. He was very handsome and his small grin softened his masculine exterior. Wordlessly, he took the green card and placed it in the front left pocket of his black apron.

“Welcome to Personal Barista Cafe,” he said in a soft, sultry voice. “My name is Bae Jinyoung, your Personal Barista today. How shall I address you?”

“Uh, just call me Sandy, I don’t like formalities much.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sandy. If you don’t like formalities feel free to call me BaeJin or BaeBae.” She gave a soft chuckle and threw her hand over her mouth, feeling her cheeks warm up. Such a sultry man telling her to call him something as cute as BaeBae tickled her. “Is this your first drink with PB Cafe?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I don’t know anything about this cafe, except that you have good coffee.”

“A Personal Barista will make you a personalized drink,” he explained, pulling out a menu form. “Whatever you order, I will make it in front of you. If you want to know how I prepare your drink, please let me know and I will explain as I go. If you want small talk instead, I enjoy a small conversation as I prepare you a drink. If you want silence, for any reason, please don’t feel pressured to speak if you don’t want to.”

“Can I get an Americano?” she asked, after glancing at the long list of coffee drinks. The menu was simple and elegant, the writings were in cursive but the paper was black and the ink white. She liked the seemingly simple attention to detail. “How long have you been a barista, BaeJin?”

“Almost a year,” he replied. He poured fresh ground coffee into a metal contraption with a long neck. She pressed her lips together as her eyes were fixed on his skilled, large hands. He was using a device to compact the coffee grounds.

“Do you enjoy being a barista?”

“I do. It allows me to be creative. My regular job is stressful.”

He put the coffee grounds into the machine and pressed a few buttons. She watched him place a small white espresso mug under the spout of the machine. He grabbed a large white mug of coffee, and looked at her with a soft grin.

“This is your side hustle?” she asked. PB Cafe seemed like it paid well.

“Most people have more than one job these days,” he replied.

“That’s true,” she replied. “I have a day job and a night job.”

“What are your jobs?”

“I’m interning at a law firm, helping a paralegal out. I’m hoping to get my private investigator’s license soon.”

“You want to be a private investigator?” he asked.

“I want to be a lawyer,” she answered, “but having a private investigator’s license helps me pick up skills. Research is the true gift of being a good lawyer.”

“Research. You must be very smart and hard working.”

“You are sweet,” she said, resting an elbow onto the counter, leaning forward. “I wish my smarts and hard work were enough to give me success. I’m lacking in luck lately.” His eyes drifted away from the espresso machine and looked into her eyes. She felt her cheeks turn hot, realizing she had overshared. It’d been a sad thought, too. “I feel very lucky right now.”

“Sandy, I don’t mean to make assumptions about people but if I were to guess you are someone with expensive tastes,” he said. He pulled out two small brown glass bottles from a drawer. “But, you settle for less.”

“I..” she breathed out.

She should have been insulted, but her barista BaeJin was right. Sandy had always been envious of people who could afford designer things or had the means to go on extravagant vacations, but all of that had always been a dream. The closest she got was free shit from Hyeon. A drink from PB Cafe was likely three times that of a drink from Starbucks, and Sandy could only afford Starbucks for special occasions.

“Why are you saying this?”

“I want to make you a drink in which you will appreciate,” he replied, pulling out a single stemmed pink rose from under the counter, and handed it to her. She felt her cheeks flush with heat as she accepted it. “Refined, seemingly ostentatious, but simple and hopefully, delicious.”

He poured hot water from a glass kettle into the mug. She felt her cheeks turn hot again as he reached over and plucked a single petal from the rose she held. He tilted a single drop of liquid from one of the brown bottles onto the petal.

“Rose water,” he said to her as he locked eyes with her for a second. He placed the rose petal into the mug, letting it float in the hot water. He poured the espresso into the mug of water, and took a spoon to scoop out the wilted petal, tossing it away before handing the drink to her.

She gave it a sip, and shut her eyes, a smile on her lips. Using a flower as aromatic as a rose was difficult to pull off in cuisine. Oftentimes the rose aroma was too overpowering, reminding one’s nose of perfume instead of food. Baejin’s Rose Americano, though, was the perfect balance of a good cup of coffee elevated with some elegance, refined by the subtlest hint of a rose’s sweet scent. The warm breath she exhaled after a hot sip of Americano filled her senses with flowery comfort.

“This is the most...beautiful cup of coffee I’ve ever tasted,” she replied, setting the mug down when she was half finished. “It tastes...beautiful.”

He gave a small chuckle, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. She bit her bottom lip, trying not to smile any wider than she already was. He was incredibly cute, grinning in reaction to her compliment. How could a man exude the amount of sensuality like BaeJin yet be so cute that she wanted to squish him like a marshmallow?

“You like it?” he asked.

“I do,” she replied. “I didn’t know a cup of Americano could be improved. Thank you for this cup of coffee. You’re a gifted barista.”

“Thank you. I would love to make you another drink.”

“I’ll try to come back one day,” she said earnestly.

She sipped her drink and glanced at her phone. Thanking her talented, handsome (and cute) barista BaeJin one last time, Sandy finished her drink and sprinted out of the odd, surreal cafe. She had to get ready for work. Smelling the pink rose in her hand, Sandy smiled to herself. Who knew her barista would be the first man to give her a rose?

--

“Diamond! Malibu was accidentally double booked,” Danielle called out into the dressing room. “Can you give a lap dance in the Blue Champagne Room before going home?”

“Wait,” Sandy said, holding the gold hoop earring she’d just taken off her left earlobe, “I’m not going to chase Malibu for the flat fee. The last time I covered for her, not only did her John not tip me but I had to chase her for 4 days before she gave me the cash.”

“I have a hard time chasing her down, too,” Danielle said with a heavy sigh, handing her purple vape pen to Sandy to hold. She dug into her pink and purple Bedazzled fanny pack, and fished out a few bills. She handed a bag of clothing to Sandy. “Let me know if this John is handsy or out of line. He’s a new customer. You have five minutes, babe. Fix your makeup.”

Handing the vape pen back to her boss, Sandy put the cash into her purse before shutting and locking the drawer to her vanity. She put her earring back on and retouched her eye makeup and lipstick. Her locks of hair looked good as she combed her fingers through her hair, looking into the mirror before getting up to change.

Sandy hadn’t exactly planned on becoming a stripper, but during her freshman year in college, she took a class on feminist studies, specifically on sex work. What started out as a learning experience in respecting sex work, and educating herself on the legal struggles of sex workers’ rights, Sandy soon found herself stripping as a means of extra income. She herself was in need of money, and recognized her beauty was valued enough that she could make capital from it.

Having walked out on her dysfunctional family as soon as she turned 18, Sandy had been hustling on her own for years. She was still working towards a career in law, but in the meantime, she was balancing between her day job as an unpaid intern at a shitty law firm and her night job as a stripper at a club called Blue Paradise. Giving lap dances were only nice when she received good tips, but they didn’t happen often enough. All she wanted was a good tip.

Pulling out the outfit Danielle handed to her, she took off her clothes and put on her new outfit. She wore a neon pink G-string bikini bottom with her matching lace bra under a black pencil skirt and a white costume button up office dress shirt. She put on a loose blue tie around her neck, and put on a pair of thick black framed glasses, matching it with her black leather knee high boots. Apparently, this new customer had a librarian kink.

Walking down the hall, toward the other side of the back of the club, she entered the room with the blue door at the end of the hall. The Champagne Rooms, where customers received their private lap dances, were color coded. The Blue Room was where the clients with specific kinks went.

Opening the door, Sandy pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, and looked up to see her John seated on the black couch. The dim lighting of the room cast a shadow over his body, making it hard for her to make out his face. She blinked, and closed her mouth, realizing that her customer was her barista from PB Cafe, BaeJin. It had been days since she had her cup of Rose Americano.

He was wearing a loosely worn grey sweater with black denim jeans. She didn’t think it was possible but he looked more handsome than she last remembered. Perhaps, with her body so close to his, knowing that he was there for devious reasons, her face flushed and her nipples hardened as heat rushed through her body from head to toe.

“BaeJin!” she said, forgetting her sexy librarian character.

“Don’t move,” he said, looking alarmed. She stood completely still, one hand on the door handle. “You’re a stripper, Sandy?”

“You...you remember me?” He nodded. “Stripping is helping me pay for my law degree.” She licked her lips and tilted her head, pushing her chest forward slightly. “I can give you what you want.”

“I can’t do this,” he replied, crossing his left leg over his right. His eyes left her, and diverted to the ground. Her ego was bruised. Not only did she need the money, but her vanity made her feel upset that he didn’t want a lap dance from her. “I should go.”

“I have to try to keep you here,” she said shyly, pressing her back against the door. “If I don’t, that means I’m not good at my job.”

“How long should we be in here for you to be considered good at your job?” he asked, his eyes returning to meet her gaze.

“You don’t want a lap dance? Am I not cute? My tits too small?”

He gave a chuckle, and looked away when his eyes moved to her chest as she talked.

“You’re very cute,” he replied, “but that’s the problem. As a barista, I don’t date customers. Since you didn’t actually pay for your drink, I thought it’d be OK to ask you out if I ever saw you again. But if I pay for this lap dance, I wouldn’t want to ask you out. It’s not fair for me to proposition you while you’re working.”

“You’ve been thinking hard about me?” Her cheeks felt hot and goosebumps formed on her arms. “Would you accept my invitation if I asked you out after this? I’m actually supposed to be off work by now, but this is my last job tonight. If I don’t give you a lap dance, we didn’t cross any lines, right?”

He nodded, and she gave a nervous chuckle.

“You said that being a barista was your side hustle,” she said, noticing the expensive watch and ring on his left hand. Sex workers had to know street codes to keep themselves safe, and watches and rings were how gang members communicated their loyalties and rankings. “What’s your main job? You said it’s stressful.”

His right hand wrapped around his platinum watch, the case of the watch encrusted with diamonds. The C9 Gang was a wealthy gang with origins in Tokyo, Japan, platinum was their calling card. BaeJin’s gold band emerald ring sat on his middle finger, indicating he was a made man of high rank. Sandy was impressed; BaeJin had acclimated to a high status in a gang at a young age.

“How long have you been working here, Sandy?” he asked in response.

“Diamond,” she answered, her grip remaining firm on the door. “My stage name is Diamond.”

“Sandy...Diamond,” he said with a grin. He stood, and she took a deep inhale of breath as he took a step forward and pressed his body against hers, his left arm wrapping around her waist as his hand gripped onto her wrist. Her hold on the door handle loosened. “You are the diamond in the rough in Blue Paradise. You still want to invite me out on a date?”

She took a gulp of breath, staring deeply into his dark brown eyes. He licked his lips and her eyes drifted to his mouth. Giving the most gentle nod of her head, she said, “Yes.”

“I drive a blue Ferrari F60 America,” he said as the tip of his nose touched hers.

“I don’t know anything about cars,” she replied, shutting her eyes. His breath was warm, making it hard for her to breathe. He chuckled and she felt his head rest onto her shoulder.

She opened her eyes when she felt a hand touch her chin.

“I drive a blue car,” he said, his eyes drifting down her face to her lips. His thumb ran across her bottom lip gently, sending heat deep into her groin. Her stomach ached at the touch. “It’ll be the most expensive looking car you’ll see when you walk outside.” He looked directly into her eyes again. “I’m a dangerous man, Sandy...Diamond. I have to ask you one more time, do you want to keep talking to me?”

She chewed on the inside of her left cheek nervously, and furrowed her eyebrows. Given how close she was to getting the paid job as a paralegal at Johnston’s &Partners, Sandy was one step closer to her dreams of becoming a lawyer. Would it be ethical to date a gangster?

“Will you take me home or will we be going to your place?” she answered. Life was too short not to take risks.

--

Upon his request, she left work wearing her costume. BaeJin’s description of having the most expensive looking car was accurate. The navy blue car shone brighter than any other car, and the curves of the body created an elegant design to the car. He’d opened the passenger door for her. She realized her skirt barely covered her ass as the cold leather from the seat hit the back of her thighs.

He drove them up a curvy hill to get to his expensive mansion, placed behind a small forest. It sat atop of a mountainous hill, overlooking the bright lights of the city far below. BaeJin was a man of very high rank by the looks of his home. It was large and designed with multiple floor to ceiling windows. Sandy took a soft gulp of air as her mouth felt dry.

“Your home is beautiful,” she said when he led her into his home, the hallway lined with expensively framed paintings. The jade vase that held 3 white lilies beside the coat hanger looked like it was worth more than everything she owned, including the small amount of cash she had in her bank account.

BaeJin’s home aesthetic was minimalist, though each room had a piece of furniture that popped out, like the jade vase in the front entrance. In his bedroom, he had a rose gold encrusted full length mirror sitting at the foot of his bed. It was shameless, but did not surprise her. Their eyes locked as BaeJin sat down at the foot of the bed. Their fingers intertwined when she reached her left hand out to his outstretched right hand.

“I spent a week trying not to think about you,” he said, pulling her easily onto his lap. His free hand wrapped around her waist. “The closest thing to you was trying to get a stripper to dress up like a sexy librarian.”

“Aren’t you lucky?” she said, squeezing his hand. “You went to Blue Paradise wanting a fantasy. Instead, you left with your fantasy.”

His hand released hers and she felt his hand between her legs, sliding up against her slit. Shutting her eyes she gave a soft moan, surprised at his swift movement.

“You deserve the best in life,” he said into her ear before grazing his teeth gently against her neck. “Don’t ever settle for less.”

He kissed her, his lips warm and firm. His tongue parted her lips and she gave a soft hum. She pushed his tongue out of her mouth, appreciating the taste of floral green tea from him. Her fingers tangled into his hair, pulling him closer to her. He tasted better than the beautiful cup of Rose Americano.

With a clouded head, she helped him pull his sweater off as he aggressively pulled her top off of her, the cheap buttons popping loudly as they flew into the air. Her skirt failed to exist when he ripped the zipper and tore the fabric apart with his bare hands.

“Are you going to rip me apart?” she asked breathlessly when his fingers found their way under her bra, fondling her erect nipple. She gave a soft moan and he grinned as he pinched her sensitive bud.

“I’ll be as hard or soft as you want,” he assured her. The pad of his thumb grazed against her nipple. Her back shivered as a sharp heat rode up her back.

“I like a bit of both,” she said, her cheeks hot. It felt like a dream to have BaeJin telling her he would do as she wanted. “You ruined my skirt.”

“The cheap costume skirt?” he asked, his hand returning to rubbing her slit. “You don’t have to settle, remember?” She shut her eyes, her hand grabbing his arm as two of his fingers pressed against her clit. “I like you best without clothes anyway.” The heat intensified as his fingers moved down lower, moistening her panties with the slick heat coming out of her pussy. Her back shook again as his fingers moved up against her slit, and then back down. “Your voice is lovely.”

She moaned as she rested her head against his chest, his fingers continually creating more heat between her legs. One finger slipped under her panties, pulling the fabric away from her wet cunt. The back of his knuckle pressed against the engorged bud of her clit, and she mewled as he rubbed up and down against her.

“BaeBae,” she could only speak with a shaky breath, “BaeBae, I’m going to come.”

Her hips thrust haphazardly against his knuckle as a small flash of heat washed over her, goosebumps forming up the back of her neck. Her orgasm disappeared as soon as it came and she breathed through her mouth. Her pussy felt wet as her slick heat dripped out of her.

“I was just playing with you,” he said with an amused smile, his eyes locked onto the mess between her legs, including his wet fingers. He spread her juices onto her folds, and moved the pads of his index and middle fingers to draw small circles onto her clit. She mewled, shutting her eyes, as her hips rutted against the motions of his fingers. “But with you this wet, I can fuck you right now.”

“BaeBae,” she breathed out, opening her eyes.

Her eyebrows were furrowed as she looked at him. Wordlessly, she stood as their hands began removing each other’s clothes off. His expensive jewelry remained on as he pulled her back to his front, making her stand between his legs. His hand went between her legs and he massaged the inside of her thigh. She hummed a soft moan, enjoying the way his hand relaxed her muscles.

Both of his hands wrapped around her waist, and his lips kissed her neck. He requested she trust him, and one hand reached down to her right knee and had her stretch her leg out to rest over his. As his other hand went to her left knee, she understood what he was doing. He wanted a full view of her pussy so she sat on his lap with her legs hooked over his.

“Ready to put this to use?” he asked, his hands kneading her hips. His reflection from the mirror was staring at her. She saw the cheeks of her flushed face turn a bright red, and she tilted her head down to look away from the mirror. The blood coursing through her chest up to her head clouded her vision. “Look at us.”

His right hand cupped her face, and she felt his wrist press up against the front of her neck. The pulse from his wrist beat rapidly against the pulse on her neck, and she struggled to breathe as her eyes locked onto his from the reflection in the mirror. Hot blood rushed to her groin and her hips jerked forward, out of her control. His left arm wrapped around her waist had her firmly in his hold, so all she could do was wiggle in his lap. Feeling the muscles of his thighs flex under her made her buttocks tighten, her body anticipating his cock.

“If you let me take you raw,” he said softly against her ear, his eyes locked with hers through the reflection of the mirror, “that’ll make you mine.”

His hold on her face was gone as his hand grabbed his cock. He rubbed his hard cock against her slit. She bit her bottom lip as his heat caused more juices to pool out of her cunt. It made her nerves shake, itching her skin in unbearable heat. He blinked, and his eyebrows furrowed as she opened her mouth to breathe loudly.

“I’m yours,” she said clearly. He groaned as he pushed the tip of his cock into her entrance. “Give me everything, BaeJin.” Pleasure blinded her vision as she saw nothing but white and gold flecks of stars. She gave a loud gulp when she felt his hand grip onto her chin again, his wrist pressing against her throat. Her grip on his arms tightened as she held onto him for leverage. His cock pushed in deeper, and the walls of her pussy trembled as heat filled her body in overwhelming waves. “I’m yours.”

His lips were on her neck and when her vision cleared all her eyes could focus was on the way his cock was fucking her pussy. He started with shallow pushes, the rhythm steady as she bounced on his lap. She came and she gave a gentle mewl, blurting out his name as her walls squeezed his cock. A gentle chuckle escaped her lips as she saw him shut his eyes tight.

“You’re so easy to please,” he said as he pushed in deep. She gave a loud groan as he pulled out roughly before pushing in fast, going in balls deep. He started a steady, deep rhythm and she cried as she was filled with undiluted pleasure.

“You fuck so good,” she moaned, her hand reaching back to grab his hair. He sucked on her neck, leaving a red mark before he kissed her shoulder. “BaeJin, fuck me. I’m gonna - I’m - I’m gonna come.”

His grip around her waist tightened as he pushed faster into her, and they bent forward together as he came into her in deep pushes. Her fingers dug into his skin as she shut her eyes, taking in the sensation of his hot seed filling up her insides.

“Come,” he panted out heavily as she felt him withdraw from her. She whimpered as she felt his middle finger push into her come-filled cunt. His thumb rubbed up against her clit, making her nerves dance in hot waves. She cried out a soft orgasm as she came again. She breathed heavily as she rested against his body.

“We barely know each other,” she said after a while. She didn’t know how long they sat together, staring at their reflection before she finally spoke.

“We have the rest of our lives to get to know each other,” he said, running a hand up and down her thigh, sending heat up and down her back. “You are mine now.”

He pulled her off his lap, and they laid in bed together. A shiver went down her back as he kissed her shoulder. They were facing each other, her left leg locked between his muscular thighs.

Giving a laugh, she watched him grab her wrist. He kissed the inside of her wrist before kissing the inside of her elbow. She shut her eyes as she felt his lips on her shoulder. Every kiss sent a vibrating heat under her skin. His mouth sucked on her neck and she grabbed onto the back of his hair as his teeth grazed against her skin. The muscles in her stomach tightened. The world ceased to exist as BaeJin’s embrace consumed her.

[drakenology]

All Yours! - Kirishima Eijiro

“i’m all yours!” 

author’s note: this is pure filth ok? kiri is always written as a gentleman and I wanted to make him a slimey little cheater. tbh it was kinda hot. hope you guys enjoy this.

warnings: smut, angst, infidelity, fluff, fem!reader, phone sex , characters aged up! made up wife yall can give her a name if yall want lmao “she’s” just for the story. 

How can I put this? Sure, I loved my wife. She was with me when I was a nobody. Supported my dreams even when it meant I couldn’t be with her. But I can’t shake this feeling of regret. It’s almost as if I have married the wrong person. We stopped being intimate. She tenses up everytime I approach her. She doesn’t even look me in my eyes. She doesn’t love me anymore, I’m sure. I don’t think I loved her as much as I did when we first met. I was scared to tell her, scared to leave her. To be honest, I think we were both too chicken shit to sign those divorce papers.

Me and Katsuki talk about it all the time. He hypes me up over a few beers and when I get home I just lay dead next to her in bed, a huge wall separating our bodies from each other’s warmth even though we were so close. Our marriage was dying, withering away as we watched it fade. I don’t even bother telling her I’m leaving. I’m sure she has company over to fuck her while I’m gone. I caught her once.

He was amongst the higher ranks of Heros; I’ve seen him around before. He was on top of her, kissing her in the spots I used to kiss her. She seemed to be enjoying herself until I walked in. I was pissed. I pulled that guy off her and my mind went blank. I collect myself as she held me back from him. All I remember is her screaming. 

“It’s over! Don’t you get it!?” The pain in my knuckles snapped me out of it as I listened to her defend a man she hardly knew over me. He was knocked out on the ground, the pig naked and sweaty sporting a new blackeye courtesy of yours truly. I’ll never forget those words. We’ve been cheating on each other since that night. 

Tonight I was going to a bar with Katsuki and Kaminari, who wanted to get a few beers and maybe catch up a little. The both of them were pretty happy in their relationships. I never thought Bakugo would settle down. I’m watching my friends get into new and healthy relationships, while mine finds its impending doom. 

“Cheer up, Eijiro. I’m sure you’ll work up the courage to leave. It’s not working anymore, bro. I can see it in your eyes.” Denki says, taking a sip from his beer. I sigh and nod, only able to impishly agree. I was pretty upset. I spent a lot of good time with her. We made good memories. But it just didn’t work out. What went wrong? What happened? 

Bakugo grumbled about how I need to get over it, “Every woman in this joint would throw their fucking panties at you to have one night fucking a pro hero, don’t you get it? To be honest you should have left her that night you caught her cheating on you with that fucking side kick. Stop bein a coward and get it done.” I looked at him in shock but nonetheless he was right about me being a coward. I’d rather stay with her than try with someone new. Or so I had thought.

Time seemed to freeze when this woman walked into the bar with a few girls I was in the same class with in UA. She was quite possibly the most beautiful fucking woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. She seemed so confident and walked with her head held high. She knew she was hot, and wanted to make sure everyone in the bar knew. She wore this skimpy little dress in red, red lipstick on her full lips to match. Why does she seem so familiar?

She walked by our table, her perfume seeming to lure me towards her to follow her wherever she went. I was drunk and looking for something or anyone to distract me from what was going on at home. It felt wrong but something in me couldn’t resist. I couldn’t help but stare at her long legs in that dress that seemed to hug and squeeze at every curve in her body. I just wanted to grab her and nail her on the nearest surface in this fucking bar. 

“Yo, you’re drooling, dude.” Denki says, waving his hand in front of my eyes. I grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand away from my view. Something about this woman made me want to know more about her. I guess I could start with her name. I stood up from my seat and approached her, telling the guys I’d be right back. My hands got clammy as I got closer. I’m not gonna lie I was nervous as fuck. She was having a conversation with someone at the bar, her head slightly tilted to the side to better hear the person over all the music and outside chatter. I sit on the other side of her and tap her shoulder. 

“Hey. Can I buy you a drink?” I ask. She turned to me and smiled brightly, her teeth almost twinkling. 

“Sure! I’m Y/N. What’s your name?” She shouted over the music. I was a little shocked she didn’t know who I was. It’s hard to even go grocery shopping without being recognized. It was almost refreshing. 

“Eijiro Kirishima.” I say, holding out my sweaty hand to give her a hand shake. She took my hand and shook it, giggling as she noticed the wetness of my palms.

“Nice to meet ya, sweaty hands.” She said teasingly. God she was pretty. It was like no one was here except the two of us. She ordered the drink she wanted and I paid the bartender after we got our orders. We talked for what seemed like hours. It was almost easy with her. She was open and honest. She had nothing to hide and she was real. It’s hard to find that in people nowadays. 

“You’re pretty handsome, sweaty hands. You must have some girlfriend waiting for you to come home tonight, don’t you?” She questioned. I froze, thinking of my wife as I take a big sip of my drink. 

“I’m uh.. actually married. But she and I are separating.” I said, looking down at my drink. 

“Are you just telling me that so I’ll sleep with you? Or are you serious?” She asked, squinting her eyes at me to see if she can detect any lies. 

“I wish I wasn’t serious. I did love her at one point but..” I swallowed the lump in my throat, feeling pathetic. I was about to cry in front of a girl I’m trying to fuck. How manly. 

“Hey. You don’t have to explain much more, ok? I understand and I believe you.” She said, her small hand resting on my shoulder in reassurance. I look her in the eyes and smile. Why was she being so nice? 

“Hey, here’s my number. Call me anytime, sweaty hands.” She giggles, kissing me on the cheek. She finished her drink and pulled a pen from her purse. She wrote her number on a napkin and kissed it, leaving a red lipstick kiss on it. Y/N handed it to me and left, swaying her hips as she walked out the door.

Fuck.

“She was HOT! Way to go, Kirishima!” Denki said, surprising me. He pats my back and orders another round of beers for me and Bakugo, who was cheering me on back at the table. We sit for a while and go home a few hours after. I call an uber being that I’m too drunk to drive. When it gets to me, I get in and take the number out of my pocket to lock it in my phone. Should I even be considering this? 

Fuck it. 

I text her. I couldn’t wait to talk to her. 

“Hey sweaty hands. Took you long enough to text me.” She texted. I could almost hear her voice through the text as I text her back with shaky hands. 

“What are you doing?” I text, sitting back in the seat. She doesn’t respond for a while until I’m about to get out of the car. 

“3 Attachments.” The message read. I nearly fall over at the thought of what those attachments are. I unlock my front door and sneak back inside. My wife was already asleep, thank god. I couldn’t take her nagging when I was out late. I go to our room and sit on the bed, opening her message. God. She was naked with a blanket covering her more intimate bits. She was laying in bed, her nipples poking through the thin blanket as she pulled her features into a lewd look. She looked so good. 

“Thinking of you.” She said. My pants grow tight as I think of what she looks like under that blanket, my mind trailing to all the dirty things I’d do to her. How pretty she’d be with my dick in her little mouth. What was she doing to me? I send her a text back, 

“You’re such a tease.” I feel my wife stir in bed as I slowly try to climb in without waking her. I sigh as she turns back over and goes back to sleep, turning my attention back to my phone. 

“I want you, Eijiro. I wanna help you forget all about her.” She texted sending me another sultry image. “She won’t please you like I can.” I gulp and get up from my bed and rush to the bathroom. 

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.. I wanna show you.” She texted, tempting me to risk it all. I facetime her without thinking. Fuck I hope my wife’s still sleeping. Y/N answers, already naked and spread out on camera for me. Dirty girl. God she looked heavenly. She wore nothing but these pink thigh high socks

“I’m so wet for you, Kiri. I want you so bad.” She whined, playing with her wet folds teasingly as if she was waiting for me to tell her what to do. I practically drooled at the sight of her so lewd like this for me, her face full of desire for a man already taken. This wrong feeling just felt so right. 

“Don’t be shy, love. Show me how you please yourself.” I said, my cock twitching in anger at the lack of attention. I licked my lips as I watched her finger her pretty pussy for me, her sweet moans filling my ears as I completely forget about everything around me. I could watch her fuck herself all day. 

“Kiri- I-I wish you were here. You’d do a much better job than me- ah!” she whined, adding another finger inside her needy little hole. I pull out my cock and start to stroke it feverishly, wishing her pussy was wrapped around me instead. 

“Yeah?” I huffed, Y/N moaning in response. I pant as I stroke myself, enamored by this woman spread out before me. I can’t wait to really taste her. 

“I’m all yours, Eijiro! Whenever you want me. Ughhh god, I can’t wait to have y-you.” She mewls, her pace quickening.

I smirk and follow her movements, mimicking her rhythm to at least simulate the feeling of her pretty pussy wrapped around me. Her moans rang in my ears, the sound of her wetness squelching around her fingers as she fucked herself open for me. I pant, feeling close to cumming all over myself as I watched her legs start to shake, a sign that she herself was close too.

“Fuuuuck, Ah! I-I’m g-gonna cum for you, Kiri. Please let me cum.. please?” She begged, the sound nearly broke me. The fact she was begging me to let her cum as if I owned her really turned me on. I huff, holding myself back further as I sweat profusely.

“G’head, baby. Cum for me. Let me hear you.” I pant desperately, wanting to let go myself. And she did, her pathetic little screams echoing in my ears like a symphony. I cum just about the same time she does, my seed spilling all over my hand and lower stomach. I hear her cooing praises at me as I moan and gasp for air in front of her.

“Mmm, I wanna lick that up for you, daddy. You’re so big.” She said, licking her lips at the sight of me. I sigh in relief, telling her how gorgeous she is as I clean myself up. She stood up and grabbed her phone, winking as she told me,

“I guess this is to be continued, huh?”

[80s4life]

The Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing

Word Count: 4,438

Status: Not Requested

Fandom: Back To The Future 1985

Relationship: Biff Tannen x Female Reader

Summary: As time is altered for a total of 2 weeks (I extended it slightly), you and Marty struggle to get his parents under control, having problem after the next. But, when an unexpected solution occurs, you find yourself willingly okay with it, soon finding the exact reason as to why.

Warnings: language, fluff, Biff being a dick, slight angst, cute Biff

Masterlist Back To The Future Masterlist

Prompts: (from this list @youneedsomeprompts​)

Y/C/S= Your Choice of Sport/ Your Chosen Sport (you don’t have to honestly play one, just choose one you like or one that comes to mind)

{gif and prompts are not mine, gif credits go to @backtothefuturemovies and credits were given above for prompts!}

No one ever said time travel was fun. No one ever said the job was easy. And no one sure as hell told you the consequences that come with it. Well, at least not before you, and your best friend, Marty McFly, had gone dead-on through a barn, sacred a neighboring family of ‘alien invasion,’ run into younger McFly parents, and altered time just enough to fuck you over for a few days.

I mean, who would’ve guessed right? Your mom just so happens to be romantically interested in you, their child. Well, that was at least in Marty’s case. For you, you had just managed to run into the biggest dickhead of the century, Biff Tannen. Or so you thought?

Making your way out of bed, you automatically go to where Marty was sleeping in the garage, waking him along with Doc up. The go-to plan for the day was to go undercover as usual students in the 50′s, secretly following Marty’s parents around, finding out where they lie in this part of time, and try to find ways into manipulating them together once more in time for Marty and you to get back home. Easy enough, right?

Groaning, Marty goes to slap your hands away weakly, mumbling something along the lines of ‘Just a few more minutes.’ You giggle slapping his hands back in an attempt to wake him up cheerily. Mornings weren’t really your forte either, so any upbeat wake-up is better than a pissy, tired, horrible morning. 

Doc, on the other hand, was happy to return the affection, getting out of bed to give a quick hug and kiss to the forehead. Then he makes his way over to the bed, going to tickle Marty’s feet as you go to tickle his sides. Finally, in a fit of laughter, Marty gets up and goes straight for the bathroom. You were going to argue him, having to use the bathroom first, but decide to just leave it be, heading for the makeshift kitchen instead.

You smile fondly as Doc and Marty play around a while later, wrestling about, cracking jokes. It was only just a few hours ago that you and Marty had witnessed the untimely death of the currently very lively man in the house. Witnessing the blood loss, the machine gun in action, and the bullets that whizzed pass with only one malicious intent: to kill. But he’s here now; he’s safe and sound, having many years until that date will arrive.

With the freshly cooked smell of eggs, toast, and pancakes, the boys straighten up, Doc clearing his throat in an attempt to organize himself, and Marty leaving his shirt ruffled as he follows the smell of deliciousness. You giggle as both men of different ages act exactly the same, piling their plates high and digging in, giving thanks through mouthfuls.

///LATER///

After breakfast had finished, you and Marty made your way to the school, not wanting to be late, and, quite frankly, not wanting to miss a second in the disaster we’re in, wanting to fix it as soon as possible. Upon entering, the building erupts in laughter, tears, screaming, perfume, cologne, aftershave, and lots and lots of both testosterone and estrogen. Fucking high school, you smile.

Going to “your locker” right besides “Marty’s,” you both place the books and supplies that are unneeded inside it and take only the things you need for the first two classes, somehow having those together. As Marty catches glimpse of his father, George McFly, he winks at you, moving to catch up to him. Rolling your eyes playfully, you turn back towards your locker, just barely missing a group of young men some ways down the hallway, locking eyes with a particularly taller man, towering almost everyone in the halls.

You pay no mind, however, being blindsided by three girls your age. Instantly, you recognize the one right in front as Lorraine, Marty’s mother. Smiling nervously, your cheeks tint only a little, being unprepared to see her so quickly, not yet having a plan made up on how you could help tackle the situation with Marty.

“Hiya! I’ve never seen you before, are you new here? I’m Lorraine Baines, and you are?” she asks cheerfully, her books clasped tightly to her chest.

Taking an obnoxiously long time staring dumbfounded, you finally realize you haven’t spoken, quickly recovering with newfound purpose and confidence, “Ah, yes! I am new here! Sorry, I’m just trying to get used to this place a tiny bit. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Well that’s quite alright, you can come with us!” she says once more in a cheery tone, taking you by the arm and lacing her arm around yours, locked elbows. You smiled, knowing exactly where Marty’s cheerful and people-person nature had come from. Walking down the halls, she had asked for my schedule, checking classes to see what we had together, “English, History, and Agriculture- Hey! You should try out for cheer leading!” 

Shaking your head lightly, “Nah, I’m more of a Y/C/S myself to be frank.”

“But...We don’t have that sport here? There are no girls sports at all actually...” Lorraine says confused. You go to cover it up, choosing to say it was a sport you play for fun at home, in the backyard. However, a beefy arm separates you momentarily from her, as the owner of the harm moves to pin her to the lockers.

You were going to walk away, figuring it was some sort of make-out session in the works, but upon looking at her before going, you notice that the man was absurdly unwanted. 

“Get your meathooks off me Biff!” she screams at the man, his huge form towering her much smaller one. Not taking the message, the pair continue to squabble, neither of them being successful in winning. The warning bell sounds over the halls and classrooms, alarming kids to get their asses moving, but it seems whoever this dick is, he feels he is greater than the school, and god forbid, knowledge.

“Hey, you do realize your not making a damn bit a difference, right? She’s not interested! And, quite frankly, it seems as if no one does! Now, if you don’t mind, could you please be kind enough to unhand her as some of us treasure a piece of mind and how to take a hint?” you finish, quite ticked off as the last bell warns, cursing under your breath as you already know your in for detention on the first day.

It finally seems that he’d caught a grip, thankfully, letting go of Lorraine’s arm and she quickly scurries out of his proximity, taking your hand to lead you to the class you both needed to be in. As you go to walk in, you are stopped by the teacher, scolding both you and Lorraine. Looking at her regrettably, she smiles defeated. So you decide to do what’s right, take the fall.

“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t know where to go as I was trying to find where all of my classes were before I ended up lost every time classes switch. I caught up to Lorraine here at some point, and as she was hurrying to this class, she was kind enough to show me where I needed to be,” you finish, sighing guiltily.

“Well, as you’ve taken acknowledgment to your mistake, then you’d be just as happy with detention. After school, on Friday, as the first week is extremely busy. As for you, Miss Baines, thank you for your help. You are off the hook for now,” the older gentleman finishes, nodding to each of you personally before turning around and beginning just one of the classes you’d have today. This is going to be fun!

///LATER///

Finally, after grueling hours of just a few of your classes, lunchtime had came round, giving you a slight break. Catching sight of Lorraine, you smile and wave, going in the direction of Marty, or Calvin Klein, as you’d heard Lorraine go on and on about. You’d known it was him the second she’d said it, the brand not yet known to man yet; or at least in this timeline, it wasn’t.

As time had went on, it was only natural for the peace to be broken, as a newly familiar face was starting to appear more and more, Biff Tannen, as you’d known his name by now. But, instead of heading towards Lorraine, he makes his way over to the table you were residing with George and Marty, sitting himself right beside you. 

At first, you were trying to ignore him, knowing his presence was there, but keeping your eyes trained on either Marty or George, eyes dancing between the two. Biff, being the everlasting child he was, tried to catch you attention, trying stupid ass things after the other: kicking your shins, pulling your ears of hair, flicking your head, and even trying to tug on the 50′s style dress you’d been forced to wear to play your part. 

Only when he goes to tug your hair once more is when you finally snap, turning a furious glare to the hulking figure beside you, shoving his shoulder in a feeble attempt to create distance. He giggles at this, his body not moving an inch at all. “You can’t be serious right now! You don’t know when to quit it, do you?!” you scream, fed up with his shit.

“Well, if you’d give me the human decency of turning your head when I’m trying to talk to you, then I wouldn’t have to pester you, now would I?” he asks in a teasing tone, no doubt taunting you, but all you do is stare him down, getting lost in a staring contest, daring him to say something again. “Alls I wanted to say was that we have detention together. Just thought I’d let you know since you got me in all that trouble this morning.”  

“Why you-!” And with that, he gets up with a shit-eating grin plastered to his face, prancing out of view and back to the table he and his gang usually sit. Watching the whole interaction, George smirks at Marty, the pair giving an unspoken mutual agreement to whatever they had both caught on to, bursting into fits of laughter moments later. 

“You have a longer tolerance than I do, I-I-I’ll tell you that much,” George says, his usual slight stutter back in place, Marty laughing once more. As George joins in again, you couldn’t fight it either, giving into the childish antics.

///LATER///

To say your week had gotten any better than the first day was a lie. It hadn’t gotten any better, and your meetings with Biff at lunch had only gotten all the more common and all the more infuriating. He’d made it his duty to agitate you in any ways possible, even resulting in whispering something nagging in your ear when you weren’t paying attention, usually doing something in your locker.

Either way, he was on the countdown to Friday, it being constantly on his mind, mentally counting down the days, hours, minutes, and even seconds until the two of you were locked in a room alone.

Unfortunately, that day had seemed to come way faster than you’d like, Friday rolling around quite quickly. School had finished, and you were making your way to the front office, awaiting a tiring 2 hours with only yourself and Biff as company for the time being. You hadn’t known where the room was, and instead of spending time looking for it, you gave up and looked for the office instead, the nice front desk lady leading you where you needed to go.

Upon entering the room, there was Biff in his prime, casually spread across his chair, legs crossed atop his desk nearest the windows. Sighing, you ignore him, deciding to sit on the opposite side of him, the front desk lady giving you a sympathetic smile before she closes the door behind her. You look at the wall, head turned away from him like the plague.

You knew it’d only last so long until he’d speak, the time coming way faster than you pleased. Given it was Friday, you couldn’t even do homework or even study in order to block him out as he started to blabber, running his mouth over stupid shit once more. Inhaling through your nose, and exhaling through your mouth slowly, you straighten in your seat, hands clutching the desk so tight, your fists turned white. 

“Biff, Sweetheart, Baby, Doll Face, Hun. Please. PLEASE. Shut up for five god damn seconds. I know you truly have nothing to say, so why do you insist on speaking so much?” you finally say, hands prying off the desk to turn in his direction exasperated. 

“Well, if you’d just talk to me, Shortcake, I wouldn’t have much to say at random,” he answers, copying your actions and posture. With this change in childish demeanor, you give in, laughing at him in an unexpected rush, running your hands through your hair tiredly. 

Although you hadn’t seen it, he’d smiled in satisfaction upon seeing you laugh, the glitter in your eyes much more captivating than it ever was when he looked at Lorraine. He hadn’t barely pestered her since you’d barreled into his life. It was weird, but he welcomed it with open arms. And for the first time, he learned what it was like to have an actual, clammy-handed, closed throat, warm, cheek-tinted, teenage crush. A crush that left his heartbeat loud and fast, breathing ragged and uneven, and his behavior out of character and out of his control. Lorraine was way under whatever level he’d placed you on, holding you up on a pedestal like you were the sun or sky.

Of course, you hadn’t taken notice to his antics, just thinking he was annoying. Just Biff being his notorious self. But, as you finally calm your breathing down, the giggles fading, you decide to give him a chance, knowing that sitting in silence is just going bore you. Smiling warmly, you say, “So what do you want to talk about then?” 

///LATER///

Grabbing your bag, you get out of your seat, giggling at a story Biff had told you. He follows your lead as well, getting his own as he lets out a bark of laughter at a certain part. You guys looked like idiots as you shoved each other down the halls, making your way out of the school as your detention had came to a close. Sighing as the warm sun radiated on your skin with the light, spring breeze, you stretch out any kinks the classroom chairs and desks had left. Biff watched you intently, your small body easily swallowed by his shadow beside you.

The sun was setting and it was getting late, although you weren’t concerned. The boys knew you wouldn’t be home ‘til late due to the detention you had initially despised. Now, you and Biff were side by side, walking peacefully to his car in the school’s parking lot. For once, he was quiet, great company to have. It was something else for sure, but you enjoyed it. As you came up towards Doc’s place, you’d realized that Biff had drove you home like a gentleman, too lost in the conversation to notice earlier on. 

Sheepishly, you itch the back of your neck, realizing your mistake and feeling guilty for making him walk all this way to now have to walk all the way home. “Ah- Sorry...I didn’t realize I’d dragged you all the way out here. Now you have to drive all the way back.”

“It’s no problem, really. I liked it. It’s nice to talk to someone other than the guys every now and then. And to have A female speak to me instead of screaming,” he answers, now being the one who is a bit shy.

“You do know that you bring that on yourself right?” you say teasingly, now leaning your head on your hands, propped up on the passenger side door. “Not every girl would want to kick you in the groin if you showed a little more respect, “ you finish off with a smile.

“Yeah...Yeah I know. I’ll try harder, I swear.”

“That’s all I ask,” you say with a wink, drumming your hands on the door as you take a step back, waving as you start walking down Doc’s driveway.

“Hey!” Biff calls from the car, stopping you in your tracks to turn around, facing him with a smile. “Uhm- Well- The Enchantment Under the Sea Dance is coming up next week...Would you mind being my date?” he asks, stuttering as he feels his cheeks heat up, nervous as hell.

“I’d love to!” you answer, turning back around to walk into the house. Biff does a little fist bump as he puts the car back in gear, excited for what is to come.

///

Marty was a little less than amused with this newfound knowledge once entering the door and going over the events of the day. It was only when Doc had suggested that the date with Biff would keep him away from Lorraine, giving George the freeway to attract her long enough for their True Love’s Kiss. Then, and only then, did Marty give the okay, shaking his head, but liking the fact that it’ll give George some time, being the nerd that you know and love.

///Enchantment Under the Sea Dance///

Checking yourself over in the mirror for the final time, you let out a nervous yet satisfied sigh, feeling like an absolute princess. You never minded dresses too much, although you couldn’t deny the fact that normal pair of shorts, jeans, or even leggings were your first choice. All that mattered was that you liked the dress you were wearing, it fit you; it was your favorite color, length, and strap(less) type to hold everything in.

Walking out, you grab the pair of heels to match, knowing that you couldn’t get away with sneakers in this generation, painfully grimacing at the reminder. Finally standing, you recount when you had gotten the dress just a few days ago, having gone with Lorraine and the her two friends, Babs and Betty. They were very endearing and supportive the whole time, you not having to worry about being “to picky” as they were just the same. You ended up loving the dress given that you’d taken the time without pressure.

As you walked into the main room of the garage, you heard a low whistle of Marty, Doc slapping him on the back of the head for it. Giggling, you curtsy and spin in the dress. Doc, the gentleman he always was, compliments you, “You look amazing, my dear. Let’s hope this boy deserves it, hmm?” 

As an answer, you hug him tightly, knowing that, by the end of the night, he will be nothing but a dead man at home, in a lonely, dark parking lot. Your eyes tear up just at the mere thought of it, clutching him tighter. Marty seems to be on the same wavelength, going to interrupt the moment with great urgency, trying to pass him a piece of paper.

“Marty, if this has anything that involves my future, do not. And I repeat, DO NOT try to hand it to me. Whatever happens, happens young man. That’s how the world works,” he says in a warning tone. You wanted to disagree, but you knew the truth that was laced beneath it, as if it was a punishment. You whimper instead, pulling him in tighter; Marty looking down in defeat, soon switching to anger. In the midst of it, he storms out of the garage, getting in the car to go pick up who you’d hope was Lorraine for the dance.

“Just let him go...” you start, sadness evident, “He’s just not very happy with the outcome of what the future has in store for you. Quite frankly, neither am I.”

“I’m sure whatever the outcome is, that I wanted to go with it, dear. I assure you, I’m fine,” Doc answers in a consoling tone, wiping the tears that had slipped from your eyes. You knew it was just a mask, no one wants death, but you knew he needed to go no matter how much you hated it. So you nod, not having to say much more as a honk sounds from outside.

“That’s Biff...” 

“Have a great time! Make sure the McFlys kiss!” Doc screams, following out of the garage, scolding Biff from behind you.

“Yes sir!” you scream back, saluting him as you take a seat in the passenger.

///

“You look beautiful Y/N,” Biff says after a while, finally working up the courage to speak.

“Thank you Biff. And you look handsome yourself,” you giggle, the car pulling into the lot. 

He shuts the engine, grabbing his keys from the ignition and closing the door, making his way around to you as you let yourself out to straighten yourself out. He takes your hand as he leads you to the entrance of the dance, you sighing in relief as you catch a glimpse of Marty pulling up in a car with Lorraine. Finally, you relax, grasping on Biff a little lighter and with more meaning now as you have the night to yourselves. He smiles down at you as you wrap your arm within his, something Lorraine does with you quite often.

With the party in full blast, you let loose with the music, dancing and joking around with Biff. At some point, however, he says he needs a drink and will be right back. Although, he doesn’t seem to actually come back. You’d thought you’d seen him spiking the punch just as few moments ago.

Just as you were going to in the direction of the hallways to the rest of the school, you notice Match, one of Biff’s friends, storming out of the gym through an exit. Taking your bets, you follow behind him, soon being greeted by a huge commotion of screams, all of them from familiar people. Biff was in a car with Lorraine, her dress pulled and taken off in parts. He was no doubt about to do something stupid, the fact pissing you off, saddening you in some ways as well.

The others that were screaming were also George and Marty, the pair trying to get Biff to stop before he regrets it. He doesn’t listen, unfortunately, until your voice booms over the rest, “Biff!” 

His head snaps instantly in your direction, the situation dawning on him the instant he looks at your face. You hadn’t meant to portray your emotions so clearly, but your face had shown such distraught and hurt. He lied. He had gotten over Lorraine, yet the moment she was alone, he runs right back to her.

With his momentary change of focus, George finally steps in, “You get your filthy hands off of her!” finishing with a blow to the jaw that knocks Biff off balance. 

Marty looks to you sadly, but tries to smile in cheers as George and Lorraine leave together, motioning that he was going to follow them just in case. You nod, looking down now as your play with your fingers. You didn’t know what to do now as the only reason you were really here was for Biff. You weren’t needed for Lorraine and George, you knew Marty had it.

You decide to make your way home then, as there was nothing else you could do. Dances were just drags anyway, nothing worth while. “Your just going to leave? Just like that?” asks a deep voice, his body having gotten back off the pavement and stood by the car he was pinned against.

Without turning, you answer his question with another, “Why not? There’s nothing left here for me is there?”

“And why wouldn’t there be?” Biff asks once more, no doubt ticking you off at his usual teasing tone.

“Well, let’s see. You. You asked me to the dance as your plus one. I came here as your date. We have a good time, we dance, we talk, and then you come up with an ‘Oh I need a drink’ charade, not returning. Then, I come to find my date in the parking lot, about to get his licks in on a woman he was apparently over with! So tell me, what is left here for men here, Biff?” you finish, tears pooling your eyes over the time, although you don’t let the fall, keeping them there.

He looks guilty, you can see it, but you don’t care. Your not in the wrong this time. But, as your blood starts to cool down, you do notice the look in his eyes, the change in his demeanor, and the utter remorse that has overcome him. He has his head down, fists clenched at his sides, body stock still. He doesn’t know what to do, all he knows is that he’d fucked up.

“Or was this your fabulous way of telling me that you love me?” you finally ask, eyes moving to look up at him in a teasing manner.

He hadn’t expected you to speak, head snapping up to meet your gaze in confusion. Being as you’d looked at him with a glint in your eyes, he finally lets everything click together; you’d forgiven him. His face heats up in bashfulness however, as your words resonated within him as well, hand going to itch the back of his neck again.

You giggle, walking up to him now, hands going to his collar. Pulling him down, he gazes at you in amazement, his own hands falling to rest on your waist. Then, you crash your lips to his, pulling him ever closer. It takes him a moment to get the hang of it, soon pulling you closer to himself as well. Lifting you slightly, he sets you on the hood of his car, the height difference a definite stretch for him. But he wouldn’t have it any other way, you were perfect. Just the same as he was perfect for you.