#hitting another until they stop moving is

[kunareads]

who's the cute guy with the wide, blue eyes?

actor!satoru x popstar!reader

in which you, pop princess, and satoru gojo, hollywood's favorite menace, start to discover your bed chem.

next

series masterlist / full masterlist

wc: 2k

part one!!! bring back PDA interrupted by circumstance!!!!!!!!!!!! maybe part 2 by the weekend

content: tension, fluff, mutual pining, some smau, they make out, PDA, reader and satoru match each other's freak publicly

18+ please i block children <3

+++

the red carpet is chaos as usual. cameras flash in satoru's face, photographers shout for his attention, reporters talk over one another. he eats it up, flashing that easy, blinding grin, soaking up the energy like he was made for it. he's always been good at this, turning attention into a performance, a game he never loses.

but something's different tonight.

his attention catches onto a figure across the carpet, and for the first time all evening, the noise fades to static.

you.

draped in something sheer, delicate but dangerous, dripping in light like you were meant to be stared at. not just ethereal, but untouchable, in the way that makes people want to reach for you anyway. you're working the cameras, holding their attention easily. every turn of your head, every flicker of your gaze is intentional, calculated. you know what you're doing and you do it well.

satoru doesn't realize he's staring until suguru elbows him.

"you've been looking at her for a full minute," suguru says, barely suppressing a grin. "are you making a move or just writing poetry in your head?"

satoru huffs a laugh, rolling his shoulders back as if to shake off whatever spell he's under. "please. you think i need to make a move?"

suguru gives him a look that says yes, actually.

satoru hums, considering. he rarely hesitates, especially when it comes to people. but he finds himself debating his approach.

does he bump into you? send suguru to get you? just stand here, watching, until you come to him?

then you glance his way.

he thinks it's an accident at first, a passing sweep of your gaze, but it lingers a second too long. a flicker of awareness, like you felt him looking. like you know exactly what you're doing when your eyes catch his and hold, when your lips part slightly like you have something to say.

for the first time in a long time, satoru gojo wonders if he's about to be outplayed.

+++

the moment you step onto the carpet, you own it.

you know how to work a camera, how to shift just enough for the light to hit perfectly, how to let the gown drape over your frame like it was made just for you (it was). the flashes go off like they can't get enough of you, and they can't. you smile just enough, turn a little, hold their attention before moving on. you've done this a thousand times, but tonight, something feels different.

it's a prickle at the back of your neck, a sensation you can't quite place until your gaze sweeps across the carpet and locks onto him.

satoru gojo.

white jacket, dark sunglasses, bright grin, standing there like he's been waiting for you to notice him. you meet his gaze head-on, unhurried, letting him know you see him.

you're used to attention. you know how to handle it. and you've admired him in passing, maybe entertained a fleeting what-if. but standing here now, with his eyes on you, the energy shifts. he's not just a name, a face, or a headline. he's here, watching, waiting. and for the first time tonight, you feel entertained.

he stops in front of you, hands in his pockets, like this was inevitable.

"if we keep staring at each other like this," he says, head tilting, voice all amusement, "someone's gonna write an article about it."

you don't miss a beat. "then maybe you should stop looking."

his grin widens, shameless. "you overestimate my self-control."

it's immediate, the way you fall into it. playful, effortless, a push and pull that neither of you really wants to stop. his presence is overwhelming but not unwelcome, and for the first time tonight, you feel entertained.

you hold his gaze for just a second longer than necessary before turning away, moving down the carpet like you have somewhere to be. but even as you walk, you can feel his eyes on you, can hear the barely-there chuckle he lets out, like he's already made a decision.

and you're sure that before the night is over, you'll make one too.

+++

the interviewers don't waste time. the moment they catch you separately, the questions start coming. you're used to answering on autopilot, smiling like you mean it, keeping things just interesting enough to be quotable. but tonight, you already know which soundbite is about to take off.

"you and satoru gojo seemed to hit it off on the carpet," a journalist says, mic tilted towards you, eyes glinting with interest. "anything we should know?"

you let out a soft laugh, measured but warm. "he's charming, i'll give him that."

the interviewer's eyebrows raise like she's just struck gold. you don't offer anything else, just a tiny, knowing smile before moving on.

across the venue, satoru's doing what he does best: playing into it. the moment someone asks about you, he's grinning, easy and unbothered.

"she might be my new favorite distraction," he says, his voice teasing, smooth. the reporter practically beams, watching the headlines write themselves.

and sure enough, the internet gets to work before the event is even over.

@/celebritea: "he's charming, i'll give him that" / "she's my new favorite distraction" PINERS WE ARE SO BACK

@/fathergojo: "my new favorite distraction" is INSANE work for someone you just met

@/ynglow: "charming" and "favorite distraction"… yeah i'm seated

edits appear in record time. slow-motion close-ups of lingering eye contact, captions dissecting every micro-expression, fan cams set to inappropriate music. by the time the event is over, the internet has already decided: this is a developing situation.

and you don't mind one bit.

+++

the afterparty is a different world.

gone are the blinding flashes and choreography of the red carpet. here, the lighting is low, the music is loud, and the air is thick with the kind of energy that turns fleeting moments into industry legends.

it's kento nanami's party—expensive and exclusive. invitations aren't sent, they're granted. and a lot of people are still waiting for theirs.

satoru walks in like he owns the place. and to be fair, he might as well. he's in a sheer black shirt, his sleeves casually rolled up, the collar undone just enough to hint at something. his usual ease is intact, but there's a sharpness to his presence, like he's playing a game no one else knows about.

you're already there when he spots you, haloed by light, draped in something different from before but just as devastating. the dress is shorter now, clings in ways that demand attention, and the way your jewelry catches the light makes it impossible to look away.

satoru doesn't bother pretending he's not watching. the space bends for him as he he makes his way over, weaving through industry elites and familiar faces, his focus locked in place.

you feel him before you see him, the shift in the air unmistakable. when you turn, he's already close.

"you know they think we already fucked, right?" he says, voice smooth and teasing.

your lips curve. "that sounds like a them problem."

his grin widens, flashing white in the dim light. "could be an us problem."

the song changes, but the beat stays the same.

the music pulses through the space, a slow, heady bass line that seems to move through your bones. there are people everywhere, but you can only focus on the weight of his gaze.

his fingers brush yours, questioning, before curling around your hand fully. without a word, he leads you past the crowd through the hum of conversation and clinking glasses, slipping into a quieter corner. low lighting, no people. out of sight, but not out of reach.

his hand settles at your waist, light at first, just the suggestion of touch.

you don't pull away. instead, you lean in, just enough to test the tension, to see how far it'll stretch before it snaps.

it doesn't take long.

one step, then another, until your back finds a wall and his body follows, heat and intent pressed against you. the breath you take is steady, but the way he looks at you isn't—teasing, sharp edges wrapped in amusement. his thigh slots between yours, firm and deliberate, and your fingers fist into the thin fabric of his shirt.

his lips brush your ear when he speaks, teasing and effortless. "you should stop me," he murmurs, but you can already hear the grin in his voice, like he's hoping you won't.

you don't.

and he doesn't.

his mouth finds yours, testing, like he's discovered something new. you match him easily, fingers sliding into his hair, teasing at the roots, nails grazing his scalp just enough to make him hum against your lips. you commit the sound to memory, make a note to pull it from him again.

your hips roll against his leg, slow and deliberate, and he mirrors you, savoring the friction like it's a game you're both intent on playing. the tension builds, heady and unhurried, each movement a tease of more, but only if either of you decides to take it there. but right now? the fun is in the waiting.

the bass thrums through the floor, threading through the moment like a quiet underscore, a pulse that syncs with your own. there are no cameras, no audience. just the two of you, caught in the moment you've made for yourselves.

your fingers skim along the buttons of his shirt, undoing one, then another, knuckles brushing against the heat of his skin. his lips brush against your neck, featherlight, and you let out a sigh.

his hands are confident and unhurried, like he has all the time in the world to figure you out. his mouth traces over your skin, a slow, deliberate path from your neck to your jaw and down, pausing at the hollow of your throat and then back up.

it's slow, but there's a hunger to it, an energy that makes itself known as his hand slides down the curve of your ass, squeezing enough to pull a soft noise from you.

you arch into the touch, a silent encouragement that makes him smile against your skin.

the moment lingers, stretching between breaths, until a voice cuts through, cool and unimpressed.

"try not to cause headlines under my roof," kento says, barely sparing you both a glance.

satoru huffs a laugh, stepping back just enough to be appropriate. but the look you give each other promises this isn't over.

not even close.

+++

you wake up to the relentless buzz of your phone, notifications stacked so high they bleed past the preview limit. the first thing you process is the sheer volume of them: texts, missed calls, headlines. the second thing is the realization that they're all about last night.

you blink against the morning light, head foggy with sleep, before rolling over and unlocking your phone. big mistake.

the group chat is already on fire.

and then you start scrolling through headlines.

are we witnessing the start of hollywood’s next power couple?

satoru gojo and y/n: met gala’s most talked-about pair takes it to the afterparty!

y/n and satoru gojo: just friends or something more?

and the tweets.

@/gojo4president: not to be dramatic but these afterparty photos feel like something i shouldn’t be seeing with my own two eyes

@/ynuniverse: satoru gojo has spent YEARS as hollywood’s most eligible menace and now he’s looking at y/n like she personally invented desire. we are witnessing a collapse

@/trendwatcher: insiders say satoru gojo and y/n were ‘inseparable’ at the met gala afterparty before parting ways for the night. no comments from either camp.

you scroll through the notifications, eyes skimming over the headlines, the tweets, the texts. you exhale, then lock your phone.

people are going to talk. they always do. you may as well go about your day.

you’ve already brushed your teeth and made your coffee when your phone buzzes again, and this time, you’re not surprised.

tags (ongoing): @moonchhu @httpstoyosi @lavnder311 @harryzcherry @perkypeony @katecupcakekate @hellicify @oh-my-god-donald @jupiterbinnie @i88b0nten

[0wlettie]

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⏾⋆.˚─── caleb x fem!reader

⏾⋆.˚─── synopsis: you've been avoiding caleb recently because you've just realized how you truly feel about him, but when life hits you hard one day, you realize that you might need him more than you thought you would...

⏾⋆.˚─── tags: 16.9k, angst, hurt/comfort, pining, clingy, crybaby!reader, pet names (princess, good girl), light D/s dynamics, crying (but in sexy way), dirty talk, slight degradation/dumbification, possessive behavior, (because it wouldn't be a caleb fic if he wasn't at least a little bit possessive) fingerfucking, pussy eating, unprotected sex, subspace but it isn't really talked about, squirting, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

⏾⋆.˚─── ao3 if you want to read there ^^

⏾⋆.˚─── a/n: this is my first ever lads piece and i worked very hard on this absolute monster of a fic, so i hope whoever happens to come across this enjoys it; beta'd by me so any mistakes are my own; title comes from IKUK by ONEUS because i played the fuck outta that song writing this and it slaps ! as this is nsfw Minors Do Not Interact (ageless blogs will be blocked)

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Burying yourself further into the depths of your hoodie, you slowly make your way up to your apartment. The elevator is currently out of commission; some sort of mechanical error, the bright orange note taped to the cautioned off doors stated, so you’re forced to make the grueling journey to the seventh floor by stairs alone.

After an eight-hour long shift working at a department store nearly an hour away by bus, you’re maybe a little more than upset at the prospect of being on your feet longer than you really have to be. Unfortunately, you’re left with little other options at this point. It wasn’t like you could magically teleport to the seventh floor. Sighing long and loud, you rub your eyes.

“Fucking whatever, man.” You grumble to yourself, readjusting your bookbag before turning around and heading to the stairs. The sight of all those floors is intimidating, but you force your feet to move regardless. Even if the soles of your aching feet are screaming at you to stop, you continue on. Once or twice you lean against the wall for a bit of a breather, only moving again when you’re startled by the notifications of your socials on your phone.

You are so fucking tired.

But still, you take one more painful step. Then another. Then another. One by one by one until—

‘Home sweet home.’ You think a little hysterically, barely glancing at the shiny gold 713 before pushing your way through the door. After, of course, fumbling through your various pockets looking for your keys. Your fingers are shaking slightly, but that’s easily ignored once you finally make it inside. You inhale sharply, blindly feeling for the door behind you as you toss your bag to the floor. You take in your apartment as you close your door with your back, absently kicking off your shoes.

To your right is your bathroom, to your left is your ‘bedroom’ and straight ahead is the kitchenette. It's a cozy little thing, your place; a studio you found for cheap a few months after graduating highschool three years ago. It’s not the greatest place—there's water damage on various parts of the ceiling, a few moldy spots in the bathroom that refuse to leave, the a/c unit does shit all during the summer, there’s basically no insulation so it’s freezing during the winter and you can hear everything going on with your neighbors upstairs and downstairs. Oh, and the indoor washer-dryer unit never works so you have to haul your dirty laundry down the elevator once a week to the nearest laundromat if you don’t want to smell like ass.

This place is a dump, but it's your beloved dump—all the plushies, figures and books lining the shelves prove that fact. Even if it’s a little chillier now that the sun’s gone down, the familiarity would usually be enough to slow your heart rate and lower your defenses.

It’s not enough, though. That thrum of anxiety still runs through your veins, and you’re about three seconds away from hyperventilating. You’ve gone past the tired phase of your day, and are now verging onto the ‘mental breakdown’ part. Groaning and pretending like you don’t feel the familiar burn in the corners of your eyes, you turn towards your little kitchen area and shuffle in. It's pure muscle memory that has you reaching for the cabinet above the stove, pulling out the hot cocoa mix and your favorite mug in seconds. Your routine has been the same for months now—hot chocolate, some cookies, your favorite plush throw and a show you’ve already seen before to help numb the panic. It was the most effective method you’ve come up with, the only one to work long enough for you to get some sleep.

Well. It was the second most effective. The first was currently a two-hour drive away at college, studying for a career in the aerospace field.

You bite down on your lip hard when tears pool in your eyes, and unconsciously, your gaze is drawn to the cluster of polaroids pinned to the front of your refrigerator. Photos of various things cover the pale surface—the sky at dusk, a stray cat that occasionally shows up by the park down the street, fireworks from a festival you went to last year, a silly picture of you in the mirror that’s mostly the flash of a camera—but the one that stands out to you the most is underneath a cartoonish magnet of an airplane.

You’re pressed together cheek to cheek with a boy a few years older than you at the time. A huge grin splits your face, your eyes squinting closed from the glare of the camera. His smile is a little smaller, controlled. But there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes as he holds two fingers up behind your head, his other arm holding onto the camera off screen.

It’s you and Caleb Xia. Your best friend in the entire world. 

The man you’re deeply in love with.

Seeing his face after months of barely any contact is enough for the ache in your chest to fully affect you. Your hands shake so badly that you accidentally end up dropping your mug. You’re too slow to catch it, and you watch in numb detachment as it falls and shatters against your wooden floors, shards bouncing off the floor to land on the soft purple cotton of your kitty socks.

You promptly burst into tears, squatting down to cup your knees as you cry loudly into the space you’ve made.

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Thick, salty tears run warm tracks down your cheeks as you sob into the open air. You try to blink them away as fast as you can, and when that doesn’t work, you roughly scrub your face. You haven’t cried like this in a while, but it was a long time coming. You were on the verge of a meltdown—you could feel it as days passed you by. That doesn’t make you feel any better, though. Not when you’re kneeling on the ground trying to pick up shards of ceramic while blind from your tears. It’s a recipe for disaster, but nothing can really ruin your day more than this. You certainly don’t care if you accidentally cut yourself, not when it feels like your very world is ending.

“Shit!” You lose your grip on one of the shards you grab. You quickly yank your hand back to avoid getting cut as it falls back to the ground. It breaks even further upon impact, and a hysterical scream threatens to erupt from your mouth, but you hastily swallow it back down. The walls are thin and you don’t need a nosy neighbor to see you like this.

‘Can’t blame anyone but yourself, dumbass.’ The voice in your head berates you. No one told you to push away the one person who could make it all better—you were the one who decided that all on your own. It’s painful to admit, even to yourself, but it’s true. You’re trying your damnedest to avoid Caleb, and you’ve been doing so for a couple months by now.

It’s easy to blame conflicting schedules and the hours separating your homes for the distance. Easy to pin the blame on your exhaustion after long days, his work as a part-time mechanic, the fact that you’re an adult and you can’t keep going to him when you just feel like it. Waking him up at three in the morning because you suddenly feel lonely. Calling him during work or class because you have to tell him about this funny post you saw on one of your socials. Cuddling and hanging all over him because touching him makes you happy and warm and safe.

Kimberly—a coworker of yours—was right to low-key call you out on your seemingly unhealthy dependence on Caleb. As embarrassing as it is to admit, it was her offhand comment that got you to fully realize how you feel about him.

Wow, with how much you cling to the guy I was sure he was your boyfriend or something.

Except Caleb isn’t your boyfriend. He’s your best friend—the only friend you can confidently say you have.

But the thought of him becoming more than that was surprisingly…tempting. An idea you never dared to contemplate was suddenly brought to the forefront of your mind and now you couldn’t escape how right it would feel. But those thoughts were scary, and there were times where you almost slipped up and said something more than strictly platonic. You could only imagine the look on Caleb’s face as he’d let you down gently—because there was no way he’d ever consider you as a girlfriend, not when he still views you as nothing more than his childhood best friend, a little kid sister. It hurts, that realization; cuts deeply in a way you’ve never felt before and that’s when it truly clicks in your head.

Unconsciously, you think you always knew how you really felt about Caleb. It’s hard to pinpoint an exact time when you didn’t care deeply for him. A thousand little moments along the course of your lives together just eventually added up into something stronger than platonic affection; something that consumed your mind, body and soul until nothing was left for him to take. Not that you were trying to blame him for your own emotions, it’s just…hard to keep yourself out of his orbit. Harder still to try and live with these feelings of yours. So you took the coward’s way out and just…pushed them away.

You stopped calling so randomly. Stopped bothering him at work. Stopped sending him random links to nearby cafes where you could go together. Stopped inviting him over for sleepovers and movie nights. Started to decline his invitations out, his subtle questions of spending time together, his concerned texts until…

Until here you are; crying on the floor of your dumpy apartment, alone and cleaning up the broken shards of your favorite mug. A mug Caleb gave to you as a housewarming gift. It was one of the cutest little things you'd ever seen; stubby, round and in the shape of a panda bear, it fits your aesthetic to a T. It was large enough to carry at least two cups worth of tea or hot chocolate, and even though it was a bit bulky for your own smaller hands, it made your day whenever you did use it. And now it’s in a bunch of tiny pieces scattered along your wooden floors.

A fresh wave of tears fills your eyes as you stare down at one of the panda’s broken eyeballs. The furious churning in your gut makes you feel sick and more than anything you wish you weren’t here anymore. In this cold, lonely and broken apartment of yours. You wish you were with Caleb.

You miss him.

You miss his stupidly tall self. How safe and protected he makes you feel. How much he makes you laugh when you're sad. How comforting his hands are whenever you accidentally hurt yourself. You miss the gentle, teasing cadence of his voice; the depth of his pretty colored eyes; the security and warmth of his hugs. You miss him so fucking much.

“I’m such a mess.” You whisper roughly, trying to wipe away the tears as they fall, hoping they’ll stop soon. But they don’t, slowly but surely continuing to wet your flushed and puffy face. You groan and cover your eyes with your balled up fists, blindly sitting back on your ass and scooting along the floor until your back hits the nearest surface. You bring your knees up until they rest underneath your chin, wrapping your arms around them and squeezing.

There’s a brewing ache settling in your chest; a gaping hole where Caleb still sits despite everything. You were the one who viciously dug him out, but you still can’t help but feel sorry for yourself anyway. It’s not like he doesn’t still reach out, but you feel like there’s this wide canyon between the two of you now. You don’t know if you can even force yourself to reach out first, not when you feel so guilty for ignoring him in the first place. 

Unmoored and lost in waves of pain and loneliness, you sit there for what feels like an eternity, drowning over and over and over again. As time passes, though, that raging sea calms into something manageable. Your tears eventually dry up and your breathing evens out a bit, but you still feel like you’re on that precipice. Like one wrong move will have you slipping into a free fall, back into the angry, churning sea of your heartache.

RING! RING-RINNG!

An obnoxiously loud tone rings out from your stomach, and you just about jump ten feet into the air.

“Fuck!” You scream, accidentally hitting your head on the countertop above you. You yelp, squeezing your eyes shut as you fumble through your hoodie pocket for your phone with one hand, the other going to gingerly feel around the throbbing area of your skull. You recognize the familiar tone and it sends your slightly calmed heart back into overdrive; beating so fiercely that you’re afraid it’s going to burst through your ribcage. The pain immediately turns into something unimportant as you dig your phone out of your pocket.

Your eyes are locked onto a smiling photo of Caleb. It’s him in his mechanic’s uniform, unbuttoned halfway through and showing the white tank top underneath, grease smeared all over him and his clothes with his sleeves half rolled up. He’s unfairly and stupidly handsome and you hate that it’s the photo you have saved for him. You hesitate as the ringing continues. Should you pick it up? You’re still so hurt and lonely, but do you really have the courage to answer after you’ve been treating him so unfairly this entire time?

One more look at his smiling face has you immediately folding like a wet paper napkin, however, and you answer the call moments later.

Except that it’s a facetime rather than a phone call, a fact you realize once your face greets you after you pick up. Luckily, his eyes are drawn off to the side, so you quickly turn the camera around to face your socked feet. You frantically curse inside of your head, but there’s nothing to be done now. You don’t have the heart to hang up on him, not when you can see every little detail of his pretty face. The sight already has you feeling better, even when he hasn't even acknowledged you yet.

You’re a weak, weak person.

“You know, when someone facetimes you it's because they want to see your face.” The clear, teasing tone of his voice causes your cheeks to darken, his eyes flicking up and then down to lock onto your feet pointedly. The last time you two were speaking by voice was…maybe two and a half weeks ago? A far cry from how you used to call him at least twice a day. Despite the snark, you can’t help but savor the warmth in his words. Still, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t reply somehow.

“Fuck off, you know I don’t like facetimes, Caleb.” You grumble, attempting to be normal but you fail within seconds. Your voice cracks halfway through your sentence and there’s an audible stuffiness to your nose that carries over to your speech. It’s so painfully obvious that you’ve been crying.

That amiable cheer of his dissolves immediately, his eyes snapping to stare directly into the camera as his smile morphs into a noticeable frown.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” His eyes dart over the screen frantically, like he can figure out the answer based on your socked feet and kitchen floor alone. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if he somehow did—Caleb’s strangely good with small details and can tell your mood just by looking for your subtle microexpressions. While you know some others around him have found it a bit strange, you just think it's sweet how deeply he cares about things like that. It’s…cute, to you. You like that he pays so close attention.

You see some of that perceptiveness when Caleb zeroes in on something small near your feet. His eyes narrow slightly, but before you can even look to see what exactly he’s staring intently at, his eyes are raising up to stare back into the camera. Like he can see you even when it isn’t facing you directly.

“Turn your camera around.” 

You bite your bottom lip at the seriousness of his tone. The statement sounds more like an order and while normally you’d at least tease him for it, maybe even sass him back for the firmness of his words, you just can’t bring yourself to ignore him. Not when it feels like you can finally breathe after what feels like ages.

Still, you hesitate.

Rubbing your cheek, you look down at the ‘switch camera’ button. It would be so easy to just let Caleb in right now, to let him see just what a fucking mess you are so he can make everything be okay again. But your coworkers' words float through your mind—how strange it is to be so reliant on someone when you yourself are a grown ass adult. Nervously, you rub your feet together, taking a bit of comfort in the soft fabric rubbing against your skin. You don’t know what to do…both sides are warring within you and the more you try and decide, the harder it is to come to a decision.

That’s when Caleb speaks up, almost as if he can sense your indecision.

“Tell me what’s wrong, princess. You know I can make it feel better.” You breath hitches, your heart thumping so fast that all the blood rushes to your ears in an instant. Caleb’s voice is so soothing—so soft and sweet and comforting that tears prick the corners of your eyes. You want to be with him so badly that it makes your chest ache with longing. 

“Caleb..!” You sniffle out, hiding behind your hand when his gaze becomes too much for you. Your face feels so hot that you’re afraid of spontaneously combusting. God, he knows how to make you weak and you would be angry at him if it didn’t make you feel so small and safe.

“You don’t have to worry with me around—you know that I’ll take care of you, don’t you? C’mon, lemme help you out like you need me to.” You peek above your hand, shivering at the intensity of his stare. It’s in stark contrast with his softly murmured words, and your brain goes a little fuzzy the longer you meet his gaze.

Caleb has always taken care of you, even when you were nothing but the lonely, annoying little girl who lived next door. Three years his junior and acting like a crybaby at even the slightest of inconveniences, he should’ve naturally found you insufferable. But he never once turned you away, no matter how many times he had to dry your tears, play with you, help you study and so, so much more. He always made sure you were looked after when your parents were too busy to even care, bringing you over to dinner with his parents or even sharing some of his lunch with you when he knew you hadn’t eaten. Caleb has always been there to make it better, to take care of you and make all of your worries fade away. Why wouldn’t he do the same now? He’s completely right—you need him.

“You promise?’ You whisper, the tears pooling in your eyes overflowing as you hiccup.

“I promise.” He says solemnly. Silently, you reach out and press the reverse camera button.

His eyes track rapidly over your face once the camera switches, no doubt cataloging the very obvious evidence of your crying fest. The thickness of his brows furrow into slants as he takes in your face, a frown pulling the corners of his lips down as concern lights up his dusk-purple irises. You stare at each other for a few quiet beats, the only noise coming from Caleb’s end as he moves to somewhere a little quieter. The slight sounds of murmuring and laughter gradually fade away as he goes somewhere private, the lights casting a warm glow over his complexion as he sits down. 

‘Maybe he was at a party? Or a friend’s house?’

“...Bad day?” Clearly, he’s waiting for you to open up before he does anything else. You shy away from his knowing gaze, suddenly feeling embarrassed for your tears. You’re an adult who pays rent and taxes—you should be more than capable of handling these emotions on your own but…but you also can’t help but like that Caleb wants to help you too.

He’s obviously waiting patiently for you to reply, but you stall just a little longer. Tugging at a strand of your hair that fell out of your bun, chewing on your bottom lip as you count the handles on your cabinets, tugging at the loose thread of your hoodie pocket…the excuses continue until you have nothing else to do but stare at Caleb. It’s only then that you begin to tell him about your day, underneath the gentle patience of his warm gaze.

From your alarm going off a half hour late so you had to rush through your normal routine in order to catch the bus on time. To the older woman who yelled at you for not having the right dress size for her daughter’s baby shower and complaining to your manager. To the weird, creepy homeless man who harassed you at the bus stop and even followed you on until the bus driver noticed and kicked him off a few stops before yours. To then have to walk up seven flights of stairs because the elevator all of a sudden wanted to have a problem today of all days. And now, with your feet carefully tucked away from the mess you made earlier when you clumsily dropped your favorite mug ever and broke it into a million little pieces. It was all just too fucking much and you felt like you were going crazy because you should be able to handle these events but you just can’t—

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. Just breathe with me, okay?” Caleb’s voice is like a beacon in the night; a guiding light for you to follow to safety lost amongst the roaring, crashing waves of your turbulent emotions. Shakily, you inhale deep and slow breaths, following Caleb’s instructions as he continues to stare at you. You feel ridiculous crying again, and something on your face must show that because Caleb shoots you a look.

“Stop that already. There’s nothing wrong with feelin’ this deeply, princess. Especially since you've already had such a long day.” You toss him a pout, trying and failing to not let his kind words affect you. He sees through your attempt easily, a helplessly fond expression taking over the worry as he watches you wipe the remaining tear off your cheeks. A comfortable silence follows his words, and you take the time to compose yourself a little. As much as you hate to admit, talking to Caleb did wonders for your current mood. You feel a whole lot better than you did before.

“How we doin’? Better, now?”

You nod, rubbing away the last of your stray tears. He smiles softly, eyes taking in your calmed expression.

“Good, good.” He mumbles, and you finally notice a peculiar jangling sound emanate from his side of the phone. Tilting your head slightly, you focus your attention back on Caleb. Before, when he called, he was dressed in a casual graphic-muscle tee and the shining silver chain you had gifted him when he first went away to college. Now, there was a leather jacket tossed over the shirt, and judging from the echo and the faint ringing sound, it looked like he was in a…car?!

‘He wasn’t–!’

“Caleb…please tell me you aren’t coming over to my place now!?” He shoots you a cheeky smile in response—something that makes panic and delight swell within your lower belly so fast that you have no idea what you’re feeling more. Logic wins out, however, and you try to dissuade him as quickly as possible.

“Caleb, it’s 8:30 p.m. on a Friday night! With traffic it’ll be at least a three hour trip!”

“Mah, it’s no big deal at all. I only have one class tomorrow and even if I do miss it, it won’t be too much of a hit. No biggie.” He says flippantly, shrugging his shoulders with a half-smile. You suddenly want to reach through the camera to smack him on the back of his head. This is not a ‘no biggie’ matter! A five to six hour round trip is just ridiculous, even for your best friend.

“Caleb!”

“Princess!” He tosses back mockingly, and you fight back the urge to melt. He knows that little nickname of his is unfair—it’s why he’s abusing it so thoroughly now. But this just feels like way too much, especially since you’re feeling a lot better than before.

“I-I’m fine now, there’s no need for you to go out of your way like this…”

He pauses, and you can see in his hands are the keys to his car. He shoots you a look as he lowers his hand, one that sends a bolt of heat through your veins.

“Then tell me not to come.”

“Wh-what?”

“Tell me, then. If you really don’t want me to come over, then say it.” You open your mouth, ready to do just that but you falter at his expectant face. As much as you were protesting before, the thought of seeing him in person—of feeling his big, warm hands around you makes your chest squeeze painfully. You easily acquiesce after a few moments of staring into his eyes, groaning into the palm of your hand to avoid his smug expression. Though, when you glance back at him, that little curl to his lips is still there—prominent when combined with the bright and satisfied look in his eyes.

“That’s exactly what I thought. I’ll see you soon, then.”

You murmur out something vaguely coherent, but Caleb doesn’t let you go without one last goodbye.

“Bye, princess.’’

“...goodbye, Caleb.’’

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

Freshly showered and an apartment as tidy as you can make it with thirty minutes left—glass cleaned up and everything—you anxiously wait on the futon that serves as your bed. Your skin is still a little dewy from the water, and your hair is a bit wet, but it’s safely twisted and pinned up into two buns on top of your head. Dressed in a soft and worn pair of grey sweats and an oversized maroon hoodie that you’re ninety percent sure is Caleb’s, you’re as comfortable you can possibly get at the moment. With a nest of plush and colorful throws as well as a few plushies to keep you company, you recline back on the futon, currently in its couch mode. You try to make yourself look as natural as possible, but an anxious tingle still remains low in your belly.

This will be the first time seeing Caleb in months and it’s nerve wracking.

You have no idea how to even act around him. Will he bring up the distance between you both? Will he avoid it? Or will he just wait for you to eventually tell him what’s wrong—something that you’ve done in the past on numerous occasions. Hiding things from Caleb never really is a thing you do; he’s just too good at figuring you out, and you have this compulsion to spill your guts whenever you stare at him too long.

But how would you even go about explaining it all? 

“Ugh, I hate this.” You groan, covering your face with one of your plushies as you curl up on the futon. Embarrassed doesn’t even begin to describe how you feel now. So much for trying to be self-sufficient. You ended up having to depend on Caleb yet again to help you. And he was driving all the way to Linkon! Three hours was a long time, and you know he’s had a full day of classes and work, so he was no doubt exhausted. Not to mention the stairs! Fuck, you really are the worst, aren’t you?

You curl up even tighter as the embarrassment blooms into bright and ugly shame. Tears push at the corners of your eyes again and you wish you could stop crying already, but you just can’t. Sniffling, you rub your cheek against the silky-smooth fur of your seal plush. Another gift from Caleb—a birthday one, actually. You both had spent the day at the mall where you two went around for hours. He won the little guy in a crane game that was outside of one of the cutesy stores you like to peek your head in occasionally. It had taken a few more tries than he would have liked—his words verbatim—but you eventually left the mall with one more plush heavier.

‘More evidence that I need to grow up.’ You puff out your cheeks before blowing out a loud breath. Yeah, you were never going to give up your collection of plushies. Childish or not, you deserve to have sweet, cute little guys you can cuddle up to when you need a bit of happiness. With one last cheek rub to your seal, you slowly sit up and pat your cheeks. Glancing at the clock, you realize that Caleb’s got about fifteen more minutes or so. 

“Maybe I can order something for us to eat? That fried chicken place that he likes so much should still be open now...” Opening up your phone, you’re about to tap the food delivery service app, but a knock at your door stops you. You blink, confused, before Caleb’s muffled voice comes from behind the heavy, brown wood.

“You mind gettin’ the door?” 

You scramble up from your seat, flailing a little when your feet get tangled up in your blankets. The struggle you go through is loud and obvious, so by the time you get the door open, Caleb’s smile is wide and amused.

“Doin’ alright there, princess?” You opt to ignore his rhetorical question, glancing down at the bulging white bag dangling from his left hand. Double bagged you can’t really tell what’s in it—just that it’s full and heavy looking, a logo of a nearby convenience store on the front. You glance back up at his smiling face. Normally, you’d have already jumped him, and your usual song and dance involves you hanging off of his neck like a monkey while he ushers his way inside; lightly bickering all the while. However…you’re trying to be considerate here. He’s likely tired from all the work he’s had today, so pouncing on him like some overexcited puppy wouldn’t be welcome, you’re sure. Instead, you opt for something a lot more toned down.

“Did you really buy snacks? I was gonna just order something for us. To, y’know, make up for all that gas you used.” You pout a little, pulling Caleb in by his wrist and kicking the door shut behind him. The warmth from his skin seeps into your hand, and you fight the urge to wrap yourself around him like a koala. Face feeling hot, you pretend like your thoughts aren’t totally embarrassing and pull him towards the futon. You carefully keep your eyes trained on the chains dangling from his jeans instead of meeting the stare you can feel boring through your forehead. 

Before you can get very far, though, he gently stops you by tugging his wrist back a little, mindful not to dislodge your own hold. He herdes you to your kitchenette with a little snort, depositing the bag in his hand onto the countertop with a muted ‘thump’.

“Why order out when I can just make you somethin’ instead?” He raises a brow, and you let go of his wrist so he can shrug out of his leather jacket. The thought of a home cooked meal sounds more than appealing at the moment, especially coming from Caleb. You swear that if he wasn’t so set on that aerospace engineering stuff that he’d be an amazing private chef. You tell him as much while he drapes his jacket over a metal hook drilled into the wall near the counter, belly growing warm at the sound of his laughter and the visual of his bare, muscled arms.

“That’s sweet of you to say, but I don’t think I’m that good.” His smile is a little lopsided once he turns back to you, but it’s the way he opens his arms that truly turns that warmth into something scorching.

“Before the food, though, I think there’s somethin’ you’re forgetting to give me, hm?”

You inhale sharply, your lower lip trembling as you look at his face. His expression is a mask of calm, but there’s an anticipatory sort of fire in his eyes, and you realize that he wants you to jump him like you would normally. Resolve cracking once again into pieces, you immediately jump into his spread arms. Your own limbs fly up to wrap around his neck, and you stand on your tippy toes for only a second before his arms surround you, lifting until your legs wrap around his waist. He squeezes you tightly, resting his chin on your shoulder while you hide away in the crook of his neck, your trembling hands fisting the fabric of his shirt.

The cologne he wears floods your nose—something deep and masculine that makes you think of late night drives, clear lakes and winter nights. That familiar scent instantly has you sagging in his hold, trusting that he’s strong enough to carry your body weight as you press even closer to him. His warmth, his scent, the strength in his arms and the low, soothing hum he starts when you inevitably let loose a few tears and sob a little; all of it causes you to feel human—something you haven’t been feeling in a long, long while. You vow to yourself to never avoid him ever again—you think you would actually just keel over and die if you have to live without his hugs.

“I missed you.” Your teary voice is muffled by his throat, but he understands you perfectly regardless.

“Missed you too, princess.” One of the hands supporting your waist slides up your spine, stopping when it reaches the nape of your neck. He rests his hand there, fingers absently playing with the baby hairs at the base as you rub your nose against his neck. Your face feels like it’s pure magma with the way it burns, and your heart is beating so fast that you’re positive Caleb can feel it, with how close you two are pressed together. As flustered as this is making you feel, however, there is a part of you that’s just melting into the easy affection between you two. A part that’s growing the longer you’re touching him.

It feels so good to be in his arms again, to feel him enveloping you, keeping you safe and protected. The slow rise and fall of his chest soothes you, and your slight sniffles calm down. Sleepily, you rub your nose against his throat again, the action surprising a low chuckle out of him that makes your brain go blank with contentment. Eventually, though, you have to part. So, with one last squeeze, Caleb pats your back and gently lowers you to the ground. You only realize you’re pouting when one of his large hands comes up to squish your cheeks together. You squawk in protest, using one of your own hands to swat at his hand before he lets you go. 

“Don’t do that!”

“Then don’t look like that. Makes me wanna bully you when you’re acting cute.” The smile on his face is teasing, but there’s something contemplative in his gaze as he regards you. 

Your face flushes a blazing red, that sleepy soft feeling evaporating in an instant. His voice echoes loudly in your head as your eyes widen. Did he just…call you cute? No, he said you were acting cute. But, doesn’t that mean the same thing? Doesn’t it? You feel like you’re about to go insane from his flippant words, and you bring your hands up to cover your hot face in embarrassment. This kind of banter is normal for you two—it’s supposed to be normal, but now it’s all too much. You can’t…you can’t deal with him talking like that, not when you’ve just noticed how you really feel about him!

A strange expression flits across his face after he takes stock of you, but before you can even think to ask, the look is gone and he slings an arm over your shoulder. He pulls you into his chest, the smile audible in his voice as he leads you into the kitchen.

“Alright, I’ve got a few options we can choose from…”

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

You end up choosing something simple but delicious—ramen! 

Your kitchen area is small, but composed of two separate counters; one connected to the wall in an L-shape with the sink, microwave and stove, the other splitting the area in half. Caleb is working near the sink and the stove, all of the ingredients spread out in an organized fashion. The water is set on the stove getting hot, the packs of noodles placed on the counter by it. Various toppings litter the surface of the counter—eggs, some seaweed, what looks like bok choy and pork belly. He knows it’s your absolute favorite and the thought of him specifically going out of his way to buy you something makes your heart thump inside of your chest painfully.

You’re sitting on top of the second counter, lighty swinging your feet back and forth as you watch him work. A heavy, almost burning feeling settles in your lower stomach as you do. He looks…at home, here, like he belongs in your kitchen. Moving about with an easy finesse that speaks of his intimate knowledge of your apartment.

How he only uses the first two burners because the back flames don’t get hot enough; how he knows exactly where you keep your pots and pans and other kitchen tools; how he knows that the cool water doesn’t flow from the faucet so he grabs one of the water bottles from out of the fridge; how he expertly maneuvers in your kind of cramped kitchenette despite his height, dodging around sharp corners and the hanging overhead lights like it’s instinct. It’s all too fucking much for you to take in. Like some sort of rom-com, domestic fantasy brought to life. The soft lofi station playing in the background of your apartment from your speaker only cements that fact. 

It should be nothing new to you—it is nothing new to you. Caleb and you have ended up in the kitchen together countless times before in the past. But you were ignorant back then. Now, you’re completely aware of how strongly you love Caleb, how deeply and wholly it consumes you, so all of the normal things you did together seem to carry a deeper meaning. But it has to be your imagination—it’s just all in your head. You can't believe that Caleb sees this any different than normal. Caleb is your best friend so he obviously loves you, just…not like how you love him.

It stings like a bitch to admit, but you have to come to terms with it. You won’t be avoiding him anymore, you’ve already decided that, so you need to be able to handle it when Caleb does something platonically affectionate. ‘You’re his best friend—like a little kid sister to him.’ You chant like a mantra inside of your head, trying to control the blush on your face when you watch his arms flex as he uses a knife. You can’t help but trace over his profile, lingering on the length of his eyelashes, the sharp just of his jawline, the soft furrow of his brow as he concentrates, the softened line of his pink lips. It’s kind of creepy how hard you stare, but there’s nothing you can do about it. Not when everything about him draws you in like a moth to a flame.

“You’re unusually quiet. What’s goin’ on in that big ole brain of yours?” Caleb keeps his eyes trained on the pork belly he’s cutting, but you still feel his attention zero in on you regardless. You fidget a little, expecting the question yet not at the same time. What should you even say?

What you can only say, you think. The truth.

“I guess I’m just…sorry?” Your quiet voice comes out more like a question, and you drop your eyes to your socked feet as they sway. You can’t bear to look at Caleb anymore, not when the shame and guilt from before start to come back.

“Sorry?” 

You shrink back at the sound of his confusion, and as much as you loathe to bring it up first, the instinct to spill your guts wins. You’ve always been an open book to him, and after years of that habit, you don’t have the strength to change that now. 

“I…I’ve been avoiding you–,” A lump forms in your throat halfway through your words, and the rhythmic cutting of the knife abruptly stops. You keep your gaze down, but Caleb’s focus goes from being present in the background to suddenly being there. You can literally feel his eyes bore into your forehead. You hunch further into the hoodie on you—Caleb’s hoodie—as if it can physically hide you away from your problems. Still, you continue to speak, absently noticing Caleb start to move in the background.

“And I’m so sorry about that. It wasn’t your fault at all, I promise you. I just…I just figured that maybe I was, um, bothering you too much? I mean, I know I can be pretty annoying and you’ve been sweet to actually try and tolerate it, but I’ve got to grow up sometime, right? I shouldn’t be constantly texting or calling you over silly, nonsensical things about my day. I’m an adult, so I can’t be so selfish with you all the time, not when we both have our own separate lives to live—” You hiccup, and it's only then that you realize you’re crying again. Your fingers are bunching up the fabric of the hoodie you’re wearing, your knuckles turning white from the strain. You sniffle, opening your mouth to continue, but another hiccup interrupts you as more tears blur your vision.

The abrupt sound of the sink turning on momentarily quiets your crying fit, and you snap your head up towards the sound. Caleb is furiously washing his hands, and you can only watch bewildered as he does so for the next thirty seconds. He whips back around after, absently drying his hands with a nearby towel before throwing it across the counter. His face is slightly pained as he stalkes towards you, and you’re suddenly aware of how big he is once he gets close.

His shoulders block out most of the overhead lights as he crowds into your personal space, his hands coming up to cup your flushed cheeks as he slides himself in between your legs. The stare he gives you is complicated; emotions flitting too fast for you to decipher with your obscured vision. Gently, he uses his thumbs to clean away the tears falling down your face, wiping away the ones in your eyes just a moment later. You sniffle a little, staring up at him with wide eyes as he slowly lowers his head to bump yours. 

“Where in the world did you get the idea that I wouldn’t always want you around?” There’s a genuine note of distress in voice, though it’s clear he tries his best to hide it.

You only cry harder, shaking your head as your hands go from clinging onto the hoodie you're wearing to his shirt. It feels so stupid to admit that someone else influenced you—to say out loud that you were being so cruel to someone so important and close to you because you were afraid. Afraid that your feelings would get the better of you. Afraid that you would drive Caleb away with your clinginess. Afraid that you’d crumble to pieces if he ever rejected you. Because you need him in your life like you need air to breathe.

The grip on your face tightens.

“You don’t have to be so quick to grow up without me, y’know? Who said you needed to do that?” He switches tactics a bit, injecting a lighter tone in his voice as he wipes away more of your tears. Your lower lip wobbles, but you do take his words to heart. A little bit, at least. You open and close your mouth, and it takes more than one try to speak past the lump in your throat, but you do after a few moments of patience.

“...You don’t think it’s immature? You don’t…you aren’t annoyed by me being so-so clingy?”

He shakes his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling faintly when he gives you a soft smile. You sniffle again, leaning into the warm palms holding your face. Your fingers loosen the death grip you have on his shirt. He moves a little closer in response, and you can feel the heat from his body seep through the fabric of your pants. Goosebumps rise across your skin when you realize how close Caleb is to your inner thighs. ‘Focus.’ You demand yourself, breath hitching when Caleb swipes his thumb underneath your eye.

“Of course not. I like it when you call me up the way you…used to.” Pain briefly flashes across his face before that gentle smile comes back. Your lip wobbles at the sight, but he quickly shushes you, lightly squeezing your face. You understand the silent message and swallow down a fresh wave of tears.

“You…you seriously don’t mind that I want to,” live underneath your skin 24/7 “be near you anyway I can? Even if it means that I’m bothering you when you’re busy?” Your inner thoughts mortify you, but the idea of being around Caleb all day, every day is so appealing to you that you feel insane with the way your entire being yearns for that to be the case.

“You never bother me. You have to know that, right, princess?” You bite your lip, one part of you disbelieving while the other half sings with delight at hearing those words come from Caleb. Kimberly meant no harm when she planted the idea, but you’ve had months to turn it over repeatedly in your head, and your insecurities have been louder than ever in your isolation.

“I’ll start trying to…at least.” 

Caleb sighs a little, eyes flickering down for a moment before they meet yours squarely.

“Baby steps then.” He knocks your heads together gently before easing up his hunched shoulders. The palms cupping your cheeks leave after a few more seconds and he gives you one of his usual warm smiles.

“No more ignorin’ me, alright?”

You tellingly don’t say anything right away. You know you’re not going to avoid him anymore, it’s just, making your voice work after all of that feels like a herculean endeavor. Sniffling, you slowly blink up at him. Your silence makes his smile grow wide enough for his eyes to close, but there’s a rigidness to his expression that makes your stomach swoop. He leans back down, one of his hands tucking underneath your chin to raise it, the other falls to rest next to one of your legs on the counter. The back of his knuckles brush against your skin and you feel your eyes widen at the sharp look he shoots your way when his eyes open, smile fixed in place.

“You won’t ignore me anymore, right.” The soft murmur sounds more like a threat than a question, and that swooping sensation returns. You realize that you’re getting excited by the look in his eyes, your flush only growing more prominent when you feel yourself get embarrassingly wet from the intensity. You instinctively move to cross your legs, but since he’s still in between them they only tighten around his waist. His eyes drop to look down before they raise back up, one of his eyebrows arched as searches your face. After he looks his fill, a slight smirk curls the side of his lips up, and his head tilts to the side in an almost sarcastic fashion.

“R-right, I promise!” You stammer out, breath hitching when that downright mean look lasts for a beat longer before his smile becomes real. He pulls back the hand underneath your chin while the other gently rests on the outside of your thigh, lightly patting it before he removes himself from your personal space. Your breath whooshes out of you loudly, your heartbeat going a mile per minute as your red face gets even redder. His smile somehow gets brighter in response.

“Perfect. Now, just sit there and relax. Dinner should be ready in just a little bit.”

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

You stop pulling away from Caleb after that night.

You never did fully explain to him why exactly you started distancing yourself, no matter how subtle and unsubtly he tried to pry. You guess you feel embarrassed by the reason. Embarrassed that you allowed your fears to get in the way of your friendship—that you allowed these stupidly intense feelings of yours to negatively affect one of the few good things in your life. So you keep the real catalyst to yourself, instead focusing on catching up with Caleb. You haven't really spoken-spoken in…four and a half months, so there was a lot to catch up on. Which was easy enough to do once you started regularly calling and texting him. 

However, some things were still different, no matter how much you tried for it not to be.

Since you had your little revelation, everything and anything Caleb did that was even the slightest bit affectionate had you blushing like crazy. Constantly, you were flustered by the very obvious care he showed you, which had been amplified ever since you started talking again. It was like he was compensating for your insecurities by being extra sweet to you, and it was driving you insane to try and keep your head on straight.

He made a point to see you in person at least once a week, alternating between taking you out to eat or to walk around the mall, or cooking you something at home and watching movies. Without fail, Caleb would show up at your door knocking like clockwork. It worried you, at first. You didn’t want him to overexert himself in an effort to make you feel better, but you realized something about three weeks into this new routine.

Caleb needed it as much as you seemed to.

He was subtle about it, but you knew the man as well as he did you. So you noticed how relaxed he would get when you would ask him for things. How genuinely thrilled he seemed when you spoke openly about your feelings. How quickly he would respond to your texts even when he was busy, or how he picked up every single time without fail whenever you called. How he would jump at the chance to spend even a little bit of time with you.

How easily he would touch you.

You guys were physically affectionate before, but now…it was happening way more often. A hand on your waist, your lower back, resting behind your back or draped over your shoulder when you sat down; ruffling your loose hair or snagging your wrist when you playfully pulled away for him; pinching your cheeks to tease you, cupping underneath your jaw to emphasize a point he was making; or, god forbid, the few times he stopped you from rushing ahead by resting his hand on the nape of your neck and squeezing. He loomed over you in public, bodily putting himself between you and random strangers, using his height to his advantage when he wanted to herd you in another direction, coaxing you to lay or lean on him whenever you were sleepy either at home or outside.

After realizing that your relationship wasn’t so one-sided, well…it was easier to accept your new routine. Easier to allow yourself to indulge, easier to not feel guilty when Caleb was getting exactly what he seemed to want by looking after you so well.

Which led you to your predicament now.

“...You want me to come with you to a party?” You hold your phone up to your ear with your shoulder, chewing on a fruity twizzler as you circle a word in your book of word searches. It was sanrio themed and Caleb had snagged it for you on one of your little outings two weeks ago. The page you were working on was thirty-three out of sixty and was filled with various little chibis of cinnamoroll. 

“It won’t be that bad. Gideon’s cousin is throwing a bit of a housewarming thing, and he invited me to come. Last week you picked what we did, so technically it is my turn…” He trails off playfully, and you pout because he’s right. You had forced him to stay inside and ordered pizza—you refused to let him go back to his apartment until you had finished all five of the twilight movies. Payback, really, when he forced you to watch all of those boring ass war movies he liked so much.

You roughly blow out a sigh, sliding your pen into the book.

“Is it a party or a…party party?”

“A party party, so as much as I wouldn’t mind you wearing one of my hoodies again,” You flush at the pointedness to his tone, “You should make an effort to wear something a little nicer.”

“Caleb~!” You whine, throwing yourself back across your splayed out futon. The only thing he does is laugh at your expense, and as much as you want to be truly annoyed, you can’t. His voice is too warm and soothing in your ear for you to feel any true irritation.

“C’mon, it won’t be so bad. We’ll stay for an hour or so, and then we can head back to my apartment. You wanted to see it anyway since I moved.”

“I guess so…”

“Just a little bit of human interaction, and then I’m all yours. Doesn’t that sound like a good deal?” His voice is softer now, coaxing almost. Like you’re some little kid that needs to be convinced to eat their veggies. It shouldn’t make you flush so intensely. Nor should it make your mind go fuzzy and cotton-filled, but here you are. Zoning out a bit because of his tone.

“...Yes, it does.” You mumble, blinking to try and erase that sudden fog.

“See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it.” A fainter voice echoes from his side of the phone and he leans away for a moment to answer. You glance at the clock. 3:47 p.m on a Wednesday. He’s in the middle of his part time shift at the auto shop near his college. ‘He must’ve just been invited if he’s calling me during work hours.’ You finish nibbling on the twizzler in your mouth while you wait, a bit of dread filling your gut as you think about meeting Caleb’s other friends.

You weren’t scared of them, per se. You were just a little—okay, you were a lot introverted. Going outside only seemed like a good time if you were either with Caleb or going on a simple walk. Talking with people has never been something you liked or needed in your life. Too many bad experiences with others—both their fault and yours, depending on the situation—so you mostly keep to yourself. And Caleb’s friends are from college or from the mechanic shop. Places where certain kinds of men reside, and while you won’t just baselessly accuse his friends of being people you won’t get along with, you shied away from interacting regardless. But now…now you didn’t have a choice in the matter. So that meant you had to make at least a decent impression on them, if only to save Caleb some peace of mind.

“Sorry about that, one of the guys had a question about the truck we’re working on.” Caleb’s voice snaps you out of your pensive thoughts.

“No worries, you know I don’t mind.” He hums absent-mindedly, before shuffling noises can be heard through your phone speaker.

“What time’s the party?”

“This Thursday night. It officially starts at eight, but people’ll probably start showin’ up at seven-thirty.”

“Oh, alright. I get out at six, if you wanted I could meet you halfway?”

He scoffs. 

“I can just pick you up, it’s no big deal. I’ll just make sure to leave a few hours earlier.” You bite your lip, but you accept his decision. You’ve gotten better at that, you think. Following his lead more without questioning him so much.

“Your vacation starts this weekend, right?” You blink. What does that have to do with anything?

“Mhm?”

“Stay the week with me.”

Your eyes widen and you stare blankly out your window, just barely catching your phone as it slips from underneath your chin. You…you stay in his new apartment with him…for a whole week…? You don’t know whether or not you want to scream in delight or pass out in flustered embarrassment. Just thinking about being alone with him in his space for a whole uninterrupted week sends those familiar tingles down your belly to your cunt. You suck in a breath, cheeks feeling hot as your fingers tremble around your phone. Denial sits on the tip of your tongue because if you’re in close proximity for that long you know you won’t be able to stop yourself from doing something incredibly idiotic—

“Please? I miss you, and we already don’t see each other enough.” He doesn’t really beg, but that soft, cajoling tone comes back and it has you caving immediately. Because you’re still one clingy bitch and you do actually miss him like crazy whenever you aren’t near him.

You just hope that you can somehow find the strength to keep yourself together the entire week.

“The whole week, huh. Sure, why not?” You say softly, smiling when that gets you a slightly startled intake of breath. Did he really think you weren’t going to say yes?

“You’re carrying all my bags, by the way. All of them.” You state without hesitation, smile curling into a devious grin.

“...How many bags are you planning to bring?” He asks cautiously, and you only giggle in response.

“You little brat.” He sighs out, but there’s nothing reproachful in his tone. You giggle again before you stop, hearing another voice pipe up from Caleb’s side. You’re a little sad to see him go, but he is technically on work time.

“Sorry, I gotta—”

“No, no it’s okay. We’ll see each other tomorrow night, then.”

“Alright. I’ll see you soon, princess.” He murmurs, and you hastily answer him back before the line cuts off. You sigh, bringing the back of your palm to your cheek. You get flustered so easily around him, but you’ve grown to handle it. Somewhat. Kind of. More importantly…

“Do I even have something appropriate enough for a party party?” You wonder to yourself, getting up to shuffle over to your closet. You never needed fancy or ‘nice’ clothes since you were in school, so you highly doubt you have anything on hand that was nice enough. You know Caleb won’t be super picky on the definition of ‘nice’ but…you want to make a good impression.

Ten minutes later you run through your whole closet and you have nothing to really show for it. You found a few hoodies that you’re definitely packing, as well as a couple pairs of fuzzy sweatpants you thought you lost. But nothing in the realm of ‘nice’ that this party required. You sighed a little to yourself, but picked out a week’s worth of clothes and shoved them into a duffel you had stored in the back of your closet. You’d pack the rest of your toiletries and other accessories you needed later. For now, though, you had to make a quick trip down the street. You’re lucky that there’s a relatively nice clothing shop within walking distance.

‘The fucking things I do for that man.’ You smile as you shrug on your jacket and slip on your crocs.

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

The soft ‘thump’ of your boots hits the ground rhythmically. You’re pacing a little, trying to get used to the added height the boots give you. While not your first time wearing boots like these, it is your first time wearing them with a skirt. It’s a strangely nice feeling, the gentle tickle of the soft fabric against your thighs, and you can admit you’re kind of obsessed with it. You make one last turn in your boots, almost tripping over a stray snag in your rug before you hastily right yourself.

Stopping in front of the floor length mirror propped against your bathroom door, you give yourself one last once over.

Your long hair flows down your back and chest, the thin braids you did topped off with shimmery white bows, lines of silver chains scattered throughout. Your makeup is simple—black puppy liner, highlighter brushed along your cheekbones and nose, and a thin layer of gloss that makes your lips twinkle a subtle black underneath your lights. Around your neck lies a thick, black choker with a layer of silver chains hooked to it. The real star of the show is your outfit, however. The one that you spent a decent chunk of money getting but one that you’re infinitely proud of.

The black bralette top you’re wearing is thin and stretchy; lined with lace and with a cute skull and bones decal. The top is the slightest bit on the small side, and combined with the sown in padded cups you not only don’t have to wear a bra, but your tits look fucking fantastic. The black skirt you’re wearing has ribbons lining the top like a corset, and cinches your waist in a way that doesn’t make you feel like you’re suffocating while giving you a nice shape. You paired it with wide-holed fishnet stockings and a pair of calf high, chunky black boots. You adjust the stockings a little, pulling them over the skirt up until they reach high unto your waist. You turn this way and that, cocking your head to the side to review your fit just one more time before Caleb appears. You’re mostly satisfied with it. 

The only thing that you would say kind of ruins it for you, though, would have to be…

‘Maybe I should’ve done the oversized look instead.’ Your mood plummets a little when you notice the layer of pudge slightly poke out from the sides of your skirt, as well as your slightly sagging arms. You cross your arms with an aggravated sigh, looking away from the mirror to ignore the imperfections you can see. You were so satisfied before…where did all that confidence go? ‘Wherever the hell my common sense went, that’s for sure.’ You think to yourself with a snarky tone, before you blow out a deep breath. You still have some time, maybe you could go and grab one of the graphic tees you have?

A knock at your door stops you, and you realize you’ve got no more time left. You sigh, lightly patting your cheeks before making your way to the door. You’re more than a little nervous—you feel a little sick, actually, but you’re trying not to think about that. With no time left, all you can do is grin and bear it.

One last breath and you swing the door open.

Your face gets hot when you realize how handsome Caleb looks—black jeans with rips in them and a grey button up hidden beneath an open dark blazer, a few buttons undone to reveal the sharp jut of his collarbones and the silver chain hanging loose—but what really has you flustered is the look on his face when he realizes what you’re wearing. It’s quiet between you two for a long beat as his gaze slowly travels your body from head to toe, something dark and hot swirling in his eyes. You lightly bite the inside of your lip, fingers gripping onto the edge of your door as you watch the rigid line of his body. It didn’t even look like he was breathing, and feeling the tension grow stronger the longer the quiet persists, you hastily try and break the ice.

“C-come in already, silly. Don’t just stand outside, I told you that you’d be helping me with my bags!” You swiftly turn away from Caleb at the door, blush spreading so fast that you’re dizzy from the rush. The look on his face…you shiver just thinking about it. That wasn’t the kind of look you give your best friend—not even close. You try not to let that stop you from gathering your purse and keys, though, heading towards your futon to pick them up. You bend over slightly, stretching out your arm to snag them from the other half of your bedding.

Except you’re a bit too far from the straps of your bag—a cute little thing in the shape of ghostface that you found in that store yesterday that just spoke to you. You huff, pretending like you don’t feel the intense stare burning holes into your back. You do in fact realize the position you’re in; you in your short and flowy skirt, half bent over your layed out futon, the entirety of your lower half nearly exposed. You feel a slight brush of cool air against the backs of your thighs, and feeling a little bold, you slide a knee up onto the futon. The fabric of the skirt slips higher and you snatch the straps of your bag quickly, blushing even hotter when you realize that you just most likely flashed Caleb behind you.

You aren’t that embarrassed about it, oddly enough. The look in his eyes when he saw you…it wasn’t one you’ve ever seen directed towards yourself before. But you can’t say that you’re upset by it, honestly it was a bit of a confidence booster. You…you don’t know the deeper meanings behind the heat in his gaze; you don’t know if it’s just surface level lust or if he thinks of you the way you think of him…but you are going to enjoy it for as long as you can.

Swallowing thickly, you slip the bag over your shoulder to rest across your chest, turning around with a bright smile.

“Ready!”

~~~~~

Caleb might have…miscalculated a bit.

The party was originally a way for him to segue into asking you to come over. He figured you’d give in easily enough and they’d spend a little time chatting in the corner before he’d whisk you back to his place. While he wasn’t certain what you’d be wearing, he also didn’t think it’d be too wild. That broken heart sweater and a pair of your black ripped jeans maybe. Or those new black cargos and the cropped graphic t-shirt of godzilla you adore so much. Something easy, something comfortable. You were being forced into a social situation you weren’t familiar with, so it’d only make sense.

Except you love proving him wrong when he least expects it.

He watches as your skirt swishes around the backs of your thighs, eyes trailing up the slope of your spine as you two walk towards his car. Thankfully, despite your earlier teasing threat, you only had a duffle bag and a book bag filled with your toiletries and other smaller items you wanted to bring—not that he was really worried about anything being too heavy for him to carry. Even if it was, he’d be way too distracted looking at you to feel any real annoyance.

Your hips sway in an unconscious, but sensual rhythm as you walk in front of him, your wild, dark curls bouncing softly, the thin chains in your hair tinkling ever so softly as they clink against one another. His fingers twitch with the sudden urge to tug at a stray braid swaying from the force of your movements, but he dutifully keeps ahold of your bags. He’s determined to keep his distance. If he really gets his hands on you, he wouldn’t be able to let you go long enough for them to leave. It’s difficult, however, when you keep shooting him these nervous little glances from underneath your eyelashes; almost as if you’re expecting him to do something. As if you want him to do something.

‘Not that I can exactly blame her for that. I wasn’t very subtle.’ He muses to himself. When he first saw how you looked, he was pretty sure he blacked out for a moment. He’d never seen you dressed so…boldly before. So much of your skin was on display, so much of your figure bared to his eyes. It took everything in him to not jump on you, but now wasn’t the time. He could have a little patience. It’d make when he finally takes you apart that much sweeter.

“You cold?” He asks after you rub your arms for the nth time coming down from your apartment. You purse your lips, the light from a nearby streetlight catching the enticing shine of your gloss. He pointedly looks into your eyes, as if that will stop him from imagining what your lips would look like wrapped around his fingers.

“I thought it’d be a little warmer out ‘cuz it’s still summer…” Caleb chuckles, fishing inside of his pocket for the keys to his car. You frown at him, lightly smacking his arm when he laughs again.

“Relax, princess. I’ve got a jacket in my car you can use.” He carefully gauges your expression, smirking a little when a glassy sheen covers your eyes. He expects it to quickly disappear—like it always does whenever he throws that pet name out—but it stays. The frown at your lips slacken into something close to a pout, your cheeks gaining a light dusting of pink that spreads to the tips of your ears peeking out from the fall of your hair. You go quiet again, but he leaves you to your thoughts, something forming in his head as he pops open the trunk.

He tosses your bags inside, slamming the back closed a moment later. When he looks up again, you’re poised by the passenger door, shivering slightly as you stare at your reflection in the window. That soft look still lingers in your eyes, and the idea forming inside of his mind solidifies. Caleb calls out to you, and you take a moment to blink before turning your head to face him. He rounds the trunk to the back door of the car, yanking it open and grabbing the jacket left on the back seat. 

“Here.” He holds the black bomber jacket open, watching closely as you shuffle over and turn around. He slides it around you, using the hands on your shoulders to flip you back around once you slip your arms through the sleeves. The thing practically drowns your figure, stopping just below where the skirt ends. You look good in his clothes, good enough that he's sorely tempted to just take you home instead of to the party. He has a slightly different plan—one that he thinks will work out just fine.

Looking into your eyes again, and seeing that hazy almost dreamy look, he gently tucks his fist underneath your chin. Using his other hand he guides you to lean against his car. Slowly, he tilts your chin up, lightly rubbing the pad of his thumb underneath the swell of your bottom lip, resting his fist above your head.

It has the effect he assumes it would.

Your breath hitches, that cooling blush of yours returning rapidly, coloring your cheeks and nose a splotchy pink. You…melt into the touch on your chin, wide eyes somehow growing bigger as you look up at him. Your hands reach for the edges of his blazer, fingers curling around the thicker fabric. He smiles, stepping in closer so that he can really tower over you, flattening his palm against the cool metal of his car. You stop breathing when he does and he lightly shakes your chin.

“Where are your manners at, princess? What do you say when someone gives you something?” He lowers the pitch of his voice a bit, softening his tone into something sweet yet chiding. You shiver, pupils expanding until a thin ring of your iris is left. Caleb allows the smile he wears to turn the slightest bit mean, relishing when that gets him a high pitched whine. 

“C’mon, you know the words.” He raises a brow and gives your jaw another shake. You inhale a trembling breath, blinking slowly before you open your mouth.

“...Thank you, Caleb.” He smiles at the sound of your lovely voice whispering out his name. He would bottle that noise, if he could. Drink it down for the rest of his life and never get tired of it. 

“Good girl. You’re welcome to keep that jacket, too. Don’t even have to steal it from me like you do my other stuff.” You only stare at him, lips parted and breaths coming in fast pants. He laughs, slightly mocking as he drags his knuckles up your cheek and down the side of your throat. He allows the contact to last for a few beats, taking in the obvious pleasure on your face, the way your legs shake, how you have to lean against the car to even stay upright. He hasn’t even done anything to you yet and you’re already like this. With one last gentle tap to your cheek, he finally leans back.

“Let’s go. If we don’t leave now, we’ll be stuck in rush hour traffic.”

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

You’re floating.

Not literally, but you feel as if you’re walking on air. Not even your natural social anxiety is affecting you now, thick into the crowd of Greyson’s family and friends. Caleb had mentioned a housewarming party, but that’s as far as you know. As far as you care to know, sitting primly on Caleb’s lap as he talks with one of his mechanic buddies—a man whose name you immediately forget once you hear it. The conversation doesn’t last long, maybe ten minutes or so, before the other man is drawn off deeper into the crowd in search of something else to drink.

Once the other leaves, Caleb leans his head against yours and looks down at your phone. You're playing a puzzle app, and he quietly watches you play a game of sudoku, occasionally jumping in when you get a little stumped. His hand curls around your waist, absently rubbing one of your skirt’s ribbons in between his fingertips. The other holds onto a red solo cup—the contents you aren’t a hundred percent certain on. He was nice enough to let you take a sip, but you weren’t a fan of the artificially fruity flavor, nor did you like the kind of alcohol hidden underneath it. Wine is more your speed, and after making a face once, Caleb merely laughed and kept the cup to himself.

You aren’t entirely sure how you ended up sitting on him like this, but you can’t say you mind. It’s nice being cradled close; your back resting in the curve of Caleb’s arm, your legs thrown over his thighs and your head resting on his shoulder. You’re warm—courtesy of Caleb’s jacket hanging off your shoulders—and comfortable. Aside from a few friendly ‘hellos’ by the various friends and acquaintances that stop by your little corner of the living room, no one’s really bothered you and Caleb.

As nice as it is, though, there’s still a worry that’s niggling at the back of your mind. A question of…why. Why did Caleb pull you onto his lap as soon as you two walked in? Why did he touch you like that earlier? Why has he been so intense lately? All of the questions you have float through your mind and it slowly begins to push back that pleasant fog you’ve had since you first walked out of your apartment.

You aren’t stupid. You know that there’s a tension between you two. The kind of tension that leads down a road that you both won’t be able to turn back from, but it’s the why of that tension that’s eating you up inside. Before a few hours ago, you wouldn’t have thought that Caleb was interested in you. But that look combined with his behavior…it’s clear that at the very least he’s attracted to you. But does he want you the way you want him—does he love you the way you love him? You don’t know, and that, you think, is what scares you most.

The fingers on your waist lightly tug at the ribbons in your skirt and you look up at him in question.

“How we feelin’?” 

“M’fine. Comfy.” You pause, biting the inside of your lip to avoid getting gloss on your teeth. Caleb immediately catches your hesitation.

“What else?” 

“...I’m a little…confused, too.” He doesn’t seem shocked at all, merely waiting with a warm expectant look on his face for you to continue. You open and close your mouth, stopping and starting until you gather the courage to finally ask what’s been on your mind.

“What am I to you?” Your question takes him off guard a bit, his eyes widening in surprise. He looks away for a moment, the shock turning into something deeply thoughtful. His gaze swings back to yours after a few long seconds of silence, a burning intensity lightning up the dusky-purple hues of his iris.

“What am I, to you.”

“Caleb, I’m serious.” You frown, feeling a little hurt that he seems to be making fun, but he just shakes his head.

“So am I. What, or more like, who do you see me as, [✦].” The sound of your name startles you, and you begin to understand that he’s deadly serious. 

“Who..?” You trail off, breath hitching when Caleb’s hand cups your cheek. He says nothing more, brushing the pad of his thumb underneath your eye as he waits. Your hand grips your phone tightly, a nervous tremble wobbling your bottom lip. Is he asking…does he want you to speak your feelings? You blink rapidly, feeling the familiar itch at the corner of your eyes.

You’re scared. You’re fucking terrified, and if Caleb wasn’t holding you like this, you think you’d run away immediately. ‘But I’ve already chosen to stop hiding from him. I promised myself that.’ You inhale, closing your eyes briefly before opening them again, meeting Caleb’s stare resolutely. You can do this—you can explain to him how you really feel.

He’s asking you to, and how could you bear to deny him like this?

“You’re my best friend,” You reach out and lay your hand on the one holding your face. “You’re the most important person in my life. You drive me fucking crazy all the time with your relentess care. I’m basically spoiled because of you, y’know? Can’t even do anything by myself anymore, I need you around me all the time if I want to have any fun. You…you’ve got to know that you’re my entire world at this point, right? You’ve got to know that I—” You choke on the words, tears pooling in your eyes as your force the phrase your heart has been screaming for so long.

“I love you. I love you so much that it literally makes me fucking stupid.” You throw out with a watery laugh, blinking rapidly to try and salvage your makeup.

With every word spilling from your lips, Caleb’s eyes grow brighter and brighter; the smile playing at his mouth wide and baring the straight whites of his teeth. He’s absolutely gorgeous under the dim lighting of the living room you’re in, and the sight takes your breath away. He’s positively beaming with how brightly he shines, and it takes everything in you not to shake apart when he knocks his forehead against yours and that utter joy gets even closer.

“Then you know exactly how I feel about you.” He whispers, his warm breath puffing against your lips. You can barely believe your ears—it feels like a dream come true. For you to be held in his lap, close enough to see the little indigo flecks in his eyes, to count each individual lash on his eyelids, to see the wonder and love and lust in his eyes as he stares at you deeply.

“You–you do?” You know you sound disbelieving, but this moment truly doesn’t feel real to you. 

“That’s so hard to believe, to you? That I’d return your feelings?” 

You struggle to answer, struggle to do anything when the hand on your waist tightens, the one cupping your cheek sliding around to thread through the hairs at the nape of your neck. Caleb doesn’t look like he’s expecting an answer, though, his eyes dropping to focus on your parted lips. You flush at the heat in his gaze, swallowing back a groan when his fingers slip higher up your waist, catching on the fishnets and meeting your bare skin.

“I could show you, you know. If you give me a chance.” He murmurs, lightly dragging his nails against your skin. Goosebumps raise along your arms at the thought of him proving his love for you. You…you want that. You want that so much. Something must show on your face because Caleb chuckles, dragging his nose up to your temple to meet your hairline. You feel the soft warmth of his lips against your forehead, an action that makes you shiver.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” You nod, unable to speak as the anticipation rushes through your veins, the spreading warmth of your belly down to the throbbing heat of your cunt.

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

You barely make it through his apartment door before he pounces on you.

His hands grip your face as he crowds you against the door, lips crashing into yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. You moan into his mouth, your arms lacing around his neck. You scratch your nails lightly through his hair and he groans deeply into your mouth. The sound causes your cunt to pulse and you feel yourself leak against the cotton of your panties.

His palms slide down your neck and then down your sides before they travel around to grip your ass. Within the next moment, you're lifted into his arms, and you scramble to throw your legs around his waist as he blindly moves you toward his bed. You trail kisses down his chin to his throat, lightly sucking on the thin skin there. God, it feels like a fantasy to be here in his arms, getting the privilege to mark him up like this.

“Fuck.” He grunts when your teeth dig sharply into the side of his neck, the hands on your ass squeezing roughly before tossing you onto his bed. You’re panting harshly as your eyes travel up his own heaving chest. The lights in his bedroom are dim, and they cast exaggerated shadows against his tall form. As dark as the room is, though, it does nothing to hide the raw desire in his eyes as he begins to unbutton his shirt. Every inch of bare skin revealed makes you even wetter, and you squeeze your thighs together when he lets the shirt drape open. You shiver, biting your lip as Caleb drops to his knees on the bed, the buckle of his belt jingling as he unloops it from his jeans.

You swiftly follow when you realize you’ve just been staring, tossing off your top to reveal your bare tits to the cool room. Hands shaky from adrenaline and the slight chill, you reach for your skirt next, but stop when you’re suddenly yanked forward by your ankle. Gasping, you fall to your back and are pulled closer to Caleb. He easily positions you partly over his lap, legs spread and half folded over. Your entire body feels hot from that easy display of strength, and you whimper when he leans down to mouth against the side of your neck.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” 

His first sentence ever since you left the party startles you, but you don’t have time to speak when his teeth dig into your skin. All you can do is gasp out, fingers latching onto his shoulders as he licks over the mark before doing the same to another patch of skin.

“How long I’ve wanted to have you under me, spread out and fucking shaking apart.” Your back arches when one of his hands cup your tit, rolling a nipple between his fingers while the other hand slides down to unzip the back of your skirt.

“You looked so pretty tonight, you know that? Almost didn’t let you leave ‘cuz you were just too tempting lookin’ like that.” Those words send a bolt of heat through you, and you want to move against him, but you can’t, bent in half and held down by the bulk of his body.

“S’because of me, yeah? Got all dolled up cause you were going out with me?” You nod, helpless to do anything else when he slowly grinds his clothed cock against you. You can feel the hard ridge even through the layer of his jeans and your skirt, and you moan when you realize how fucking big he is.

“Wanted…wanted you to think I was pretty.” You gasp when the hand on your tit pinches your nipple, shaking when his other hand finishes unzipping your skirt.

“I always think you’re gorgeous, princess. But I don’t mind you dressing up for me. Can get you all the pretty little skirts and tops you want if you model ‘em for me. Only for me.” He presses a kiss to the hollow of your throat before separating himself slightly, the corner of his mouth ticking up when you chase him. But he easily pushes you back down, closing your legs and yanking off the skirt like it personally offended him. He doesn’t even bother taking off your fishnets or your lacy panties after he spreads your legs around his waist, merely pushing them aside enough so he can stick two fingers inside of your cunt.

“F-fuck…Caleb!” You cry out, tears forming at the corners of your eyes as you toss your head back. His words combined with the stretch of his fingers makes you feel as if you’re losing your mind. You’ve never had sex before—the only experience you’ve had were the different toys and dildos you have stashed away in your apartment. Other boys never caught your attention, and you were always able to satisfy yourself just fine on your own so you didn’t think you needed the touch of another. But having Caleb’s fingers inside of you now, pistoning in and out was electrifying and you know that it was going to ruin you when you finally feel him inside of you.

The thought has you suddenly desperate for it, and you weakly paw at the bulge in his jeans. He bucks into your hand with a low groan, the pace he sets with his fingers faltering once you get a semi-decent hold on his cock. He returns to his pace soon after stopping though, using his left thumb to rub against your clit as he slides the fingers of his right hand in all the way and curls them. You jolt at the intense feeling, desperation getting stronger as that coil in your belly tightens further and further.

“Give it to me, please, want it so bad, gimmie it now—” You whine, your other hand tugging at the loose end of his shirt while the hand on his bulge clumsily rubs up and down his dick. You blink the half-formed tears out of your eyes, pleading with your face as you desperately try and get him to listen to you. He spits out something too low for you to hear above the squelching noises of your sopping wet cunt, but you soon forget about that when his fingers hit that one spot inside of you just right.

You jolt hard, legs wildly jerking as a white-hot bolt of heat sizzles its way up your spine. The cry that falls from your lips sounds more like a wounded animal, but Caleb’s eyes are dark with satisfaction. He presses that spot inside of you again, rubbing insistently while he does the same to your clit. You can literally feel your brain melt out of your ears from the dual sensations, hips instinctively jerking up to meet his fingers. You’re on the precipice, riding the edge of that peak but you still aren’t quite there yet and it makes even more tears fall from your half lidded eyes out of frustration.

“You close?” But Caleb’s voice was more statement than question, eyes piercing as he watches you start to break apart underneath his hands. You nod anyway, crying out in protest when he slips his finger out. Only to squeal when he lifts you so that you're balancing on your shoulders, your thighs resting around his neck while he buries his face into your cunt.

You can’t even form words when his tongue traces over your clit, his hands placed on the soft flesh of your thighs, gripping tight enough to bruise. He eats you out without any foreplay, going from sucking on your clit to dipping his tongue inside of your hole, trailing nipping kisses to your inner thighs before he’s right back to licking into your cunt while nosing at your clit. It’s so much stimulation—too much stimulation for you as tears drip down your flushed cheeks. You can feel it coming, your orgasm. It’s in the way you clench on his tongue, thighs wrapped so tightly around his neck that you have to be suffocating him. But, if anything, the fervor he eats you out seems to grow, trialing one of his hands from your thigh to lightly trace over your hole. He slips two fingers back inside again, and using his tongue, fucks your dripping slick back into you. Your orgasm crashes into you when he hits that spot again, eyes rolling into the back of your head as white sparks flash across your vision. Your mouth drops open in a silent scream, legs spasming around his waist as you finally come around his fingers.

“Mhm, fuck, that’s it. C’mon, let me have it all, princess.” Caleb’s words ride out on a slight laugh, the vibration of his hoarse voice making your cunt clench around his still moving fingers. The intensity of your orgasm flees, but he’s still thrusting in and out of you. Your voice is shrill when he rubs your clit hard, purposely aiming for that little spot inside of you as oversensitivity wracks through your frame.

“C-C-Caleb—!” You can barely get anything past your crying mouth, hands reaching out to tangle in his hair as he continues to overstimulate you. You somehow get even wetter, the sounds he’s causing between your spread legs are absolutely filthy as they echo out into the dark room.

“You’ve got another for me, don’t you. You wanna be my good girl, yeah? Give me another and I’ll give you what you want.” He licks another stripe from your hole to your clit, fingers rubbing that spot inside of you, pulling back to widen, before thrusting back inside and repeating. Through the haze filling your mind, you can hear the order he gives you. And of course, because you are a good girl for him—his good girl who listens to everything he says—you give him exactly what he wants.

You come for the second time, squeezing so tightly around his fingers that he can’t even move them inside of you anymore when you do. Your back arches off the bed at an insane curve, ragged moans and cries erupting from your hoarse throat before you fall limply back to the bed, hands falling to rest at your sides. ‘Did I…just come on command..?’ You feel tired and wrung out, but that burn of arousal doesn’t fade. Even when the feeling on your clit and in your cunt make you squeal from oversensitivity, you’re still soaking wet.

“Did so well for me, princess. So fucking beautiful when you come. You’’l look even prettier when you’re spread out on my cock–mh, fuck.” Caleb groans, slowly retracting his fingers, watching raptly as your cunt gushes out more slick. You whine out something unintelligible, your entire body shivering from the aftershocks of two orgasms in a row. But still, you dutifully let yourself be manhandled, half lidded eyes lazily tracking Caleb as he bends you in half again. Your eyes lock onto the smears of your cum and slick across his mouth as cheeks, something inside of you strangely warm at the sight of him marked by you.

Caleb’s muttering all sorts of filth about you under his breath as your eyes trail down his chin to his jaw, that satisfaction burning brighter when you notice the hickeys you gave him darken. Your attention is captivated by him as he slips his jeans and briefs down just low enough to pull out his cock. You can see the tip of it from how you’re angled, and the sight causes your cunt to clench and unclench at the thought of finally taking it.

“Fuck, look at you. Prettiest fuckin’ pussy and for my eyes only, yeah? No one else has seen you like this, and no one else will, cuz your little cunt is mine, right? Say it.” 

“M-my pussy, s’yours, Caleb. It’s all yours.” You whimper out. Caleb slaps the tip of his cock against your clit, doing it again when you wheeze out a moan. You wiggle your hips as much as you can in your position, wordlessly begging for him to finally fuck into you. He smiles at your desperation, but it’s a far cry from those sweet, gentle smiles he usually gives you. The slant of his smile is mean, his eyebrows rounded out into a condescending expression that makes you gush.

“Need this dick, yeah? Need me to empty that little head of yours—to make that itch go away.” He slaps the tip of his cock against your clit again before trailing it lower, lightly pushing into your hole before slipping it out. He does that a few more times, all with that mean little smile on his face as he watches your desperation turn into more frustrated tears.

“Caleb!” You cry out, tears slipping down the sides of your cheeks. He tsks, leaning over you until the tip of his nose brushes your temple.

“What did I tell you earlier about using your manners?” 

You shiver at the warning in his tone, mouth falling open when he trails gentle kisses down the side of your face until he reaches your lips. This close, you can taste yourself covering the lower half of his face, see the sweat that’s beading on his forehead and wetting his hairline, the wideness of his pupils as they eclipse the natural purple of his iris, the flush to his cheeks as he poises himself over you. You do what you always do in front of Caleb when he asks you for something.

You cave in.

“Please, please, please Caleb fuck me. Need you so bad, need you to make me stupid, please, want you—” You choke as he pushes in, eyes rolling back as the stretch of his overwhelms all of your senses. He’s so big that it feels like an eternity before he bottoms out. And when he does, you can feel the tip bump into something smooth and hard deep inside you. You jerk when he brushes that place, hiccuping when he shifts and hits that point again. Something…different is building up inside you, something that doesn’t quite feel like a regular orgasm. But you don’t have the breath to voice that weirdness out loud, not when you’re stuck staring up at Caleb’s slack, wet mouth as he looms above you.

“Thaaat’s fucking it, fuck—” He cuts himself off with a low moan, large hands pressing down on your thighs as he pulls out a little, then pushes back in. You realize that you’re drooling when Caleb leans down to lick it away from the corner of your mouth, the silver chain bumping against your skin and causing goosebumps to raise along your skin. You chase after his mouth with a little whine—you can taste yourself on him and it makes you clench down on his cock. He shivers, groaning before meeting you for a proper kiss, all the while keeping up his slow and deep thrusts. He puts more weight on your thighs as he kisses you deeper, tongue tangling with yours as you shakily reach up to throw your arms over his shoulders.

His cock hits even deeper than before, and you fall back with a drawn out moan, eyes unseeing as he does it again. It’s hard for you to register anything else when all you can focus on is the feel of his dick hitting that wall over and over and over again. Your mouth stays wide open as he slowly but harshly pounds into you, hiccuping breaths exiting you every time he bottoms out. You feel like you’re dying—the heat damn near suffocating you as it spreads like wildfire from your lower belly throughout the rest of your body. It’s too much too soon but you can’t help but love it—love how Caleb feels inside you, love how wild he looks above you, eyes half lidded and mouth parted from the slew of filth he’s spitting at you.

“So fucking tight, princess. Feel so good wrapped around my cock.” He groans out, turning his head to lay biting kisses against one of your calves. Your mouth only drops open wider, hiccuping again when he slides his other hand over to play with your clit. It takes one, two, three rubs before you’re clenching down again. White noise fills the space between your ears as you come for the third time on his cock, except you feel something else come out of you.

You don’t even realize that you’re squirting all over him, the wetness slipping down your thighs and his dick to wet the sheets below. You don’t realize much of anything past that point. Not the fact that Caleb jerks his hips forward as he finally came. Not the fact that he bit down hard on your calf as he did so. Not the fact that his other hand kept rubbing your clit, causing even more liquid to squirt out of you. 

Nothing else mattered in your mind at that moment. You were floating, weightless and thoughtless in a fog so dense that you couldn’t see a thing. It was freeing. It was so, so fucking peaceful that you almost didn’t want to leave. But there was someone coaxing you back with sweet kisses and large, warm hands. So you slowly but surely woke from that fog, blinking your puffy eyes open to see Caleb staring down at you in slight concern.

“Back with me, princess.” You nod, but it feels like your head weighs about a hundred pounds when you do. 

“Mhm.” You hum when it’s clear that he’s waiting for a verbal answer. The smile you get is worth the slight discomfort of using your voice, though.

“Here, drink some of this water and we can go to sleep.” You blink again as he helps you sit up, holding onto a glass of lukewarm water with a purple bendy straw. You drink as much water as you can, and are slightly surprised when you end up finishing the whole glass. Caleb laughs a little at your bewilderment, but soon he’s bundling you up in his arms.

You two lay back down and get comfortable on clean sheets—something you don’t think too much of at the moment. You lean into Caleb’s heat as he spoons you from behind, sighing when he slides one arm underneath your head. That arm locks around your neck in a chokehold, while his other limb securely wraps around your waist, hand resting low on your stomach.

“Goodnight, princess.”

“G’night.” You whisper, pressing one last sleepy kiss against the bicep against your cheek before you allow darkness to encroach on your vision.

[heliosunny]

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Dr.Ratio x Reader

The egg sat ominously on the table, smooth yet pulsing with an eerie glow. You had won it from a bizarre machine. The moment it hatched, you were expecting... something monstrous, something draconic, anything. But what actually emerged...is a statue.

Or at least, that’s what you thought at first. The figure before you was unnervingly still, clad in intricate blue and black robes with golden embellishments, a stone mask covering his face like some ancient artifact. You blinked. He remained unmoving. The air crackled with an unspoken tension.

“...How did a statue come out of an egg?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

A faint chuckle echoed through the room. Slowly, the figure’s fingers lifted to remove the mask, revealing sharp eyes, a smirk playing at his lips.

“Charmed, truly.” His voice was smooth, laced with amusement as he placed the mask aside. “Though, I must admit, I wasn’t expecting my first impression to be likened to a mere sculpture.”

You took a cautious step back. “So... you’re not a statue?”

“Not quite.” He stretched, joints cracking, as if shaking off years of immobility. “I assume you are my first observer. A pleasure.”

His tone was lighthearted, but something about the way his gaze dissected you, scanning every inch of your form, felt calculated—like he was assessing you.

Over the next few days, the man who introduced himself as Dr. Ratio—settled into your space with unsettling ease. He observed, questioned, and tested you in ways that left you both intrigued and wary. Chess was his weapon of choice, each match less about winning and more about how you thought, how you reacted under pressure.

“A move made in haste” he mused one evening, watching as your knight fell to his trap. “Tell me, do you always act on impulse?”

You frowned, realizing too late that your strategy had crumbled. “Maybe I just don’t take chess that seriously.”

“Ah, but you should. Every decision you make, no matter how small, is a reflection of your core nature.” He leaned in slightly, eyes gleaming. “And I am most interested in uncovering yours.”

It wasn’t just chess. He subtly tested you in conversation, in mundane activities, noting every hesitation, every lie, every truth you didn’t mean to reveal. It was a game to him, a puzzle where the final picture was you.

You had assumed Ratio was more of a strategist than a fighter—until you saw him in action.

The moment you both stepped into the dungeon, creatures lunged at you from the darkness. But Ratio didn’t flinch. With a single powerful strike, he crushed an attacking beast beneath his fist, his movements fluid yet devastating.

Intelligence and strength. A terrifying combination.

A hulking monster towered before you, only to be obliterated by his attack—its body dissolving into pixels before it could even land a hit.

“Did you think I was all talk?” Ratio smirked, watching your stunned expression. “Brains and brawn are not mutually exclusive.”

You swallowed hard. It was one thing to know he was calculating. It was another to realize he could just as easily overpower you if he so desired.

Despite his sharp wit and overwhelming power, he seemed to genuinely enjoy your company. On the way back from the dungeon, he spotted something that caught his interest, a detective game challenge set up in the town square. Intrigued, he suggested you both participate.

At first, you assumed he’d solve everything effortlessly, but you soon realized the game was designed to be tricky, requiring not just logic but an understanding of human nature and intuition—something even he struggled with. You noticed a crucial detail he overlooked and gave him a small but significant clue. He paused, considering it, before smirking. "Ah... so that’s how it is. You’re sharper than I thought."

Working together, you cracked the case, winning a special dinner prize. It wasn’t anything extravagant, but as you sat across from him, enjoying the meal you had earned together, you noticed something different in his gaze. Satisfaction. Not just from solving the game, but from being beside you.

Morning light filtered through the curtains of your shared apartment, casting soft shadows across the wooden floor. You stirred awake, blinking against the warm glow. The quiet hum of the city outside signaled the start of another day. As you stretched, the thought of breakfast crossed your mind, and you climbed out of bed to prepare something simple.

The sound of sizzling eggs filled the kitchen when Dr. Ratio emerged, still looking somewhat drowsy, his usually meticulous appearance slightly undone. His eyes flickered toward you, then to the food.

"You're up early" he noted, rubbing the back of his neck before settling into a chair at the small dining table.

"Someone has to make sure you eat properly" you teased, setting a plate in front of him.

He chuckled, shaking his head as he picked up his fork. "I could survive just fine without you, you know."

You raised an eyebrow. "Really? Last time you tried making breakfast, the kitchen nearly caught fire."

He clicked his tongue but didn't argue, instead taking a bite and humming in approval. "Fine, you win this round."

As you both ate, the morning news played in the background. The casual chatter between you ceased when a sudden alert blared through the broadcast. A news anchor appeared, expression grave.

"A dangerous fugitive has escaped custody late last night. Authorities urge citizens to remain indoors and travel cautiously."

You frowned. "That's concerning…"

Dr. Ratio leaned back, his gaze sharpening. "You're not going anywhere alone, then."

You blinked at his assertiveness. "I can take care of myself."

"Mm." He twirled his fork between his fingers. "Humor me."

True to his word, he stuck by your side the entire day, even for trivial errands.

Eventually, the evening news announced that the fugitive had been captured, and life returned to normal.

"Well, that’s over" you sighed, stretching. "You can stop hovering now."

Dr. Ratio smirked but didn’t deny the accusation. "I just got used to keeping an eye on you. Can’t drop habits so easily."

"You form a habit that quick?"

"Yeah, someone just asked to get into a bath with me earlier and now they're questioning me."

"That was a joke!" You blushed

"I take everything coming from your mouth seriously."

"You-"

With things settled, you both decided to head back into a dungeon the next day, expecting the usual trial of combat and strategy. However, when you reached the deepest floor, instead of facing some grotesque beast, you were met with an unexpected sight.

A massive stone structure stood at the center of the chamber, engraved with intricate carvings and glowing sigils. A podium rested at its base, a single parchment laid upon it. Dr. Ratio approached first, picking up the paper and scanning its contents.

His lips curled into a grin. "A quiz? Now this is interesting."

"A quiz?" You peered over his shoulder. "That’s… new."

"Indeed," he mused. "Seems like the dungeon master was feeling creative."

The parchment detailed a series of puzzles, some mathematical, others riddles, and a few logic-based challenges. At the bottom, it read:

"Only those of sharp wit may claim the treasure beyond."

Dr. Ratio’s confidence was palpable. He rolled his shoulders before settling in, his keen eyes dancing over the first question.

"Alright, let’s get to work."

The first riddle was deceptively simple:

"I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with wind. What am I?"

You hummed in thought before answering, "An echo."

Dr. Ratio snapped his fingers. "Correct."

The next question involved a series of logical deductions, tracing paths from one point to another. He breezed through it effortlessly, his finger gliding along the diagram as he mapped out the solution in mere seconds.

"Impressive" you admitted.

He smirked, not looking up. "Naturally."

As the quiz progressed, the difficulty increased. One puzzle had numbers arranged in a cryptic pattern, another required translating an ancient dialect. There was even a section that tested memory recall, flashing sequences that had to be repeated perfectly.

One question in particular stumped you:

"There are three doors. Behind one is a deadly trap, the second holds a monster, and the third leads to safety. You can ask one yes-or-no question to a guard who always tells the truth or a guard who always lies, but you don’t know which one you're speaking to. What do you ask?"

You hesitated, but Dr. Ratio simply exhaled, his expression unreadable. "Simple. You ask either of them, ‘If I were to ask the other guard which door leads to safety, what would they say?’ Then, you pick the opposite door."

You blinked, piecing it together. "Oh. That’s… clever."

He tilted his head toward you. "Wouldn’t have expected anything less from me, would you?"

The final test required a combined effort. It displayed an intricate cipher, shifting symbols that changed every few seconds. You managed to catch the repeating patterns, pointing them out, while Dr. Ratio swiftly deciphered the hidden meaning.

When the last answer was submitted, the stone structure rumbled, and the sigils glowed brightly before fading away. A hidden compartment opened, revealing a well-preserved chest.

Dr. Ratio glanced at you. "Shall we?"

You nodded, and together, you pried it open. Inside, various treasures gleamed, but what caught your eye was a neatly wrapped package. Unfolding it, you revealed an ornate board game—engraved with intricate designs and shimmering pieces, it looked centuries old yet perfectly preserved.

"A rare strategy game" Dr. Ratio mused, turning one of the pieces between his fingers. "Now this is a worthy reward."

You smiled. "Guess you’ll have to teach me how to play."

He let out a soft chuckle, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. "Oh, I intend to. And I won't go easy on you."

You had no doubt about that.

Dr. Ratio had barely stirred when you left the apartment that morning. He was still recovering from the last dungeon run, a particularly grueling battle that had left both of you drained. You figured he could use the extra rest, so you slipped out quietly, not wanting to disturb him.

But by the time he woke up, something felt... off.

He reached for his communicator, half-expecting a message from you, but there was nothing. No update, no location ping, no casual remark about what you were up to.

Frowning, he stretched, rubbing the back of his neck as he got out of bed. Maybe you had just gone to the market? Or taken a walk? But something gnawed at him—an irrational unease he couldn’t shake. He reached out again, sending a message this time.

No response.

His brows furrowed. He sent another. Then another.

Still nothing.

His fingers clenched around the device as he tapped into the dungeon trackers, scanning for recent activity. His heart nearly stopped when he saw it—your name, registered in a dungeon… alone.

And you hadn’t come out.

Without a second thought, he grabbed his coat and bolted out the door.

The entrance of the dungeon pulsed with an eerie glow. The system confirmed that you were still inside. His jaw tightened as he stepped forward, conjuring his spellbook in one hand while flexing his other. There was no time to hesitate.

The moment he crossed the threshold, enemies lunged at him. He struck hard and fast—raw power and refined technique in perfect balance. A crushing blow to one, a well-placed incantation to another. His eyes were sharp, his mind sharper, every step calculated.

He moved like a storm, tearing through the opposition with a mix of brute strength and precise strategy. His body ached from the previous battle, but he didn’t care. His only thought was you.

Then, he found you.

Trapped behind a collapsing barrier, you looked up at him, relief flooding your eyes. “Dr. Ratio—”

The moment he saw you—alive, safe, his breath hitched, but his face remained composed. He reached out, fingers barely brushing the edge of the barrier before it sparked violently. He clicked his tongue, analyzing it in an instant.

“You’re lucky I’m a genius” he muttered, his voice tinged with something almost… desperate. “Stay back.”

With a swift motion, he activated the spellbook, feeding calculations into the structure. His eyes darted over its runes, deciphering, manipulating, deconstructing. He worked fast—faster than he ever had.

A crack formed. Then another.

And then the whole thing shattered.

You barely had time to react before he pulled you forward, crushing you against him. His grip was firm, almost bruising, like he was making sure you were real.

“You...” he exhaled, his voice low, tight with emotion, “are never going into a dungeon without me again.”

You blinked, startled. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I don’t care.” His hold tightened, his forehead resting against yours for a fleeting second before he pulled back. “It won’t happen again.”

There was no room for argument. And as he led you out, one arm wrapped around you protectively—you realized he wasn’t just saying that as a precaution. He meant it as a vow.

[blondrafe]

Semi rough sex with Drew Starkey

cw; smut, swearing, jealous dew at the start

The night creeped in through the blinds that didn’t think to be shut, another thought that seemed to slip out of both your minds. The room was dark minus a lamp that had been on and forgot to be turned off before the both of you left

Drew had been invited to an event for queer, and he brung you as his plus one as usual. Everything had been going well, the both of you keeping each other close the whole night. That was until Drew needed to go to the bathroom, and you had seen an old friend from school.

He just so happened to be a man, which should’ve been the first blinker in your mind just to not talk to him. But he came up to you first, and you couldn’t ignore him now, that’d be rude wouldn’t it? So you two started talking, and when Drew came back with both of your drinks, he wasn’t happy.

He acted civil of course, not wanting to seem rude. Especially since the old friend had been gushing over Drew the whole time since he came back, applauding him on his role in queer and telling him how well he’d done. But Drew just didn’t like how he was acting towards you. The guy was always brushing his hand towards your knee or thigh, and thought he was being discreet.

He wasn’t, and Drew noticed it all too well. So that’s why you were now propped up on all fours, naked and being pounded into the oblivion. Jealous sex was something Drew had a specialty in, especially when it came to you. “That guy thinks he can have you, touch you n’ shit.” Drew grunted, hands harshly gripping the flesh of your hips as he pounded harder.

You moaned in response, the sound peaking Drew’s ears. You had been moaning like you were staring in a pornography, you just couldn’t help it. Drew’s toned hips were drilling into the right spot that just felt so good, the spot that made your eyes roll and throat grow hoarse from moaning so loudly.

“Can’t have you though, cause your mine.” He growled, lifting a hand off your hips and trailing it under your stomach and down to your clit, rubbing the bud in harsh circles that made your hips jerk and squirm. You were only moaning louder now, occasionally whimpering when his hips hit just a little too hard.

Drew leaned down, stomach and chest pressing against your back. His breath came down hard against the crook of your neck, making you shiver in delight. For some reason, that was an odd thing that you loved. You’d been at this for about an hour, and you were on your third orgasm if the night.

And they were only coming quicker due to the back you were starting to get overstimulated, and you could feel a coil starting to tighten in your stomach. Your warm and silky walls squelched and tightened around Drew’s thick length, making my let out a guttural groan into your ear.

“Fuck baby, gonna cum again?” He cooed, knowing damn well you were. You nodded, biting on your lip as you let out a moan. Drew smirked, starting to rub harder on your clit and angle his hips just right so he’d be hitting your sweet spot every time.

His red mushroom tip was just abusing your sweet spot, making you cry out in bliss. You knew you’d be cumming in seconds, and you could feel the coil tightening to no end in your belly. “Oh drew—gonna cum!” You called out, voice full of pleasure.

The waves of your orgasm washed over your instantly, and you moaned each time. Drew groaned out, feeling your pussy milk him for all he was worth. “I’m gonna cum too baby, fuck.” Drew growled in your ear, slamming his hips into yours a few more times before his semen was spurting deep into you.

That’s when he started to ease up, hips slowly coming to a stop and his grip loosening too, as well as his hand leaving your clit. He pulled out, sitting back and watching his cum and your combined liquid drip out like a leaky water tap.

He smiled admiring his work before moving to lie you down, curling up behind you and spooning you. He rubbed your stomach and legs as he tried to ease your discomfort after such a harsh round, also trying to help you sleep. And it worked for both you and him, the two of you falling into a peaceful sleep in each others arms.

[semisasseater]

BUT I SEE HER IN THE BACK OF MY MIND ALL THE TIME ─ se-mi

⤷ Like a fever, like I’m burning alive, like a sign

│pairing : gf!se-mi x dead fem!reader │ genre : angst, tragedy, psychological horror │tw : graphic violence, murder, blood, self-harm, suicide, hallucinations, grief, trauma do NOT read if you don’t like this│summary : after losing you in the brutal chaos of the night, Se-mi is consumed by grief, guilt, and an unrelenting thirst for revenge. She knows exactly who killed you—Nam Gyu—and she won’t let him get away with it. │wc : 1k │authors note : uh i don’t have anything to really say expect i love my gf and again don’t read if your sensitive to these topics ;-; not proofread. part 1

if you enjoyed likes or reblogs would be amazing! feedback is appreciated also requests are open!!

The floor was cold beneath her. She had been sitting here for hours, unmoving, staring at the dark stain on the ground—the only thing left of you.

They had taken your body away, sealed you in one of those black and pink coffins, stuffed you into a furnace like you were nothing. Like you never mattered.

But you did.

You were everything.

Se-mi dug her nails into her palms, jaw clenched so tight she thought her teeth might crack. She could still hear your voice. That final, broken whisper.

“Get out of here… for me… okay?”

But how could she?

How could she leave when the last place you existed was right here?

Her mind was fraying at the edges, unraveling thread by thread, a gnawing, maddening rage eating away at her insides. And beneath it all, a thought burned like fire—

“This is my fault.”

If she hadn’t left. If she had just stayed. Maybe she could’ve taken the hit instead. Maybe she could have stopped it from happening.

But she didn’t.

And now you were gone.

Se-mi exhaled a shaky breath, dragging her fingers through her tangled hair. Her eyes were hollow, ringed with exhaustion and something feral.

She knew who did it.

Nam Gyu.

That smug bastard had always had it out for both of you, spitting insults, pushing buttons, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And he had taken his chance the second the lights went out, leaving your body crumpled and bleeding on the floor.

He left you there to die because he killed you.

Se-mi’s fingers twitched.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew nothing would bring you back.

But she could make sure he never walked away from this either.

The announcement rang through the room.

“Player 381 eliminated.”

Y/n was dead. Another body burned. Another pile of money added to the piggy bank.

Everyone moved on.

Se-mi didn’t.

She watched her die. Watched the number disappear.

And then she knew.

Tonight, it was over for Nam gyu.

The others had gone to sleep, exhaustion keeping them in their beds despite the horrors of the last few days. But Se-mi was wide awake.

She stood over his bed, her gaze sharp and empty, her fingers curling around the metal fork she had swiped earlier. Her breathing was slow, steady.

This was it.

She moved with eerie silence, lowering herself onto his bed, hovering above him.

Then—

BOOM.

The pillow pressed over his face before he could even make a sound. His body jerked beneath her, limbs flailing, trying to shove her off. But she was ready.

The first stab went into his stomach.

The second into his chest.

The third—his hand.

Every wound a reflection of what he did to you.

She didn’t stop.

Didn’t stop when his blood splattered across her face.

Didn’t stop when his body convulsed beneath her.

Didn’t stop when his muffled screams turned into choked gasps, then silence.

Even when she knew he was gone, she kept going, blade plunging into him again, again, again.

Until there was nothing left.

Nothing but a corpse.

Nothing but the suffocating, crushing weight in her chest.

Blood dripped from her hands, soaked into her clothes.

She should’ve felt something.

Relief. Satisfaction.

But all she felt was empty.

Her hands trembled as she backed away from the bed, heart hammering, breath ragged.

And then—

“Do it Se-mi.”

She froze.

That voice.

Her head snapped up, eyes darting across the room.

And there you were.

Standing in the shadows, your silhouette cast against the wall.

“Do it. Kill yourself.”

Se-mi’s breath hitched. Her vision blurred, her chest tightening.

“We can finally be together if you do it. You can’t live without me can you?”

Tears welled in her eyes.

No.

No, she couldn’t.

You were everything.

She took a step forward, reaching out taking your hand, taking her to where you died.

“Pick it up Se-mi.”

Her gaze fell to the ground.

The glass shard.

The same one Nam Gyu had driven into your body.

Her fingers curled around it, lifting it, the weight of it familiar, cold.

Her whole body shook as she brought it to her chest, right above her heart.

Her breathing steadied.

She closed her eyes.

“We can finally be together Y/N.”

And then—

…

The glass plunged into her heart.

A sharp, piercing pain spread through her chest, but she barely registered it. Her body swayed, blood dripping from her lips.

She smiled.

She could almost see you now.

Waiting for her.

The room spun.

Her knees buckled.

She collapsed onto the cold, bloodstained floor.

Her vision dimmed.

And then—

Darkness.

The morning announcement rang loud and clear.

“Player 380 and Played 124 has been eliminated.”

The guards moved efficiently, lifting her lifeless body and placing it into a pink coffin.

Another two numbers gone.

Another pile of money added.

And the games continued.

As if nothing ever happened.

As if you, Se-mi, and Nam gyu never existed at all.

@semisasseater

[hogans-heroes]

What if after the war when the boys get discharged stateside, Gale’s trauma doesn’t really hit him until they’re standing at the train station saying goodbye and he realizes Bucky is leaving. He and Brady and DeMarco are all getting on a train somewhere and Gale is supposed to be getting on another, but what he didn’t tell anyone is that he had already broken things off with Marge and his parents were gone and his town had nothing but bad feelings toward him so he has nowhere to go. Nothing.

He waves and puts on a little smile as the other boys board one one of the trains, a ringing building in his ears and feeling more detached with every second Bucky’s curls blend farther into the car.

Gale starts walking down the road beside the tracks, figuring he’ll get to town and get a hotel room and figure it out from there, but with each step the train carrying Bucky starts moving faster and the whistle blows and Gale flinches because trains terrify him after the forced march and his chest hurts and it’s hard to breathe and Bucky is gone again—and he knows he’s alright but he’s gone—and Gale might never see him again and now he’s alone. He hardly notices when he sinks down and his knees hit the dirt, dropping his bag as something inside him finally breaks. He hears himself sobbing, the grief and horror of the whole war suddenly breaking out, and he’s scared and John is gone. The train is blurry through his tears and Gale’s never felt so lost.

But John happens to look out the window. Maybe Brady spots Gale first and says something like “is that Buck?” And when John looks he sees Gale’s form kneeling in the dirt crying like a child and the coldest heartbroken horror shoots through him. He’s up before he can think, snatching his bag and throwing himself off the train that thankfully isn’t yet moving fast enough to really hurt him. He still lands hard and ruins his uniform, grunting in pain, before climbing to his feet and running towards Gale.

He stumbles to a stop in front of him, heart shattering at Gale’s state and the little aborted reaching out he does, and John has to grit his teeth to not cry himself. He falls to the ground and pulls Gale to him, wrapping is arms around him and holding Gale’s head to his chest, letting Gale cling to him and shake and cry. Finally a dirty and panting Brady and DeMarco rush up. They had jumped off the train too.

They all sit together as Gale weeps in John’s arms, fighting tears themselves. A local farmer pulls over in his truck to see if they’re ok. Brady says they will be but the man lost a son and daughter in the war and invites them to the farm to stay in the bunkhouse for the night. They accept.

Gale eventually, quietly, opens up to them. They sit around the fire that night talking about what they couldn’t say in the daylight or during the war. They come up with plans for each other.

John never leaves his side again.

[deadhands69]

Hitching a Ride there's only one bed?

Tomura Shigaraki x Reader  Dabi/Touya Todoroki x Reader [separately]

Choose your own adventure with Shig//Dabi routes. Lightly suggestive, but no smut.

previous - this is part 3 - next (coming soon) [series masterlist]

As you walk through the parking lot to the door of the motel, you realize you’re about to spend the night alone with a man who you met jumping into a stolen van less than 48 hours ago. On its face, this should be a red flag but, thus far, it hasn’t felt like it. If anything, he looks more nervous about being in a room alone with you than you are. 

You slide the keycard four times before the light flashes green and beeps. Shoving open the door, you flick on the lights and -

“There’s only one bed?”

Tomura Shigaraki ᝰ⛐ 

“At least I only have to share with you,” Shigaraki shrugs, “the last hotel stop there were three of us in each bed and Twice kicks in his sleep.”

You laugh, feeling a bit less nervous about the situation. Your laughter also hides the grumbling you feel in your stomach. You wish there was room service, or even a restaurant close. The lackluster dinner you had did nothing to stave off your hunger. As if he could read your mind, Shigaraki walks to the door.

“I think I saw a vending machine earlier, I was about to head over there. Want me to get you anything?” he asks.

“I’ll go with you!” you exclaim, a little more excited than you intended to sound. “I need to move my legs a bit after sitting all day anyways.”

The two of you wander back into the dimly lit parking lot and around the building. Snack and drink vending machines glow side by side like an oasis in the desert. 

“Watch,” he says, hitting the machine with his hip at just the right angle to make a drink fall out. He repeats it again, and another drops. You try the same on the snack one to no avail. Everything seems to be tucked solidly between the metal coils. Without thinking, you pull a semi-large bill from your pocket and shove it in the machine.

“Pick whatever you want,” you say to him, stepping aside. 

“You don’t have to pay for everything,” he mumbles, hitting C6 to send a bag of chips plummeting to the bottom. 

“Yeah, but I want to. You’re the only reason I’m not-” in prison right now, you think. “I definitely owe you. For the ride.”

“It’s fine,” he mutters as the two of you alternate picking more snacks until you each have an armful.

After dropping some gummy candies while you try to get the keycard to work, you’re back in your room dumping your haul on the motel comforter. 

He gives you the first turn for the shower. Dragging your bag in there, you open it to find not much that will be helpful in this situation. You try to clean up the best you can, but at the end of it all, you’re still putting your dirty clothes back on. After looking in the mirror for the first time in months, you decide this is the best it’s going to be and walk back out.

“You’re carrying around a giant bag of money, but no clothes?” Shigaraki asks.

“Wait, how do you know-”

“We picked you up by a bank robbery and you’ve been paying for everything, I put two and two together.” He doesn’t seem phased by this, barely bothering to look away from the motel info sheet he’s reading his way through. “You can’t sleep in that. If you want, you can borrow one of my shirts.”

You nod, thank him. He throws you a shirt from his backpack before heading to take a shower. With the time he’s in there, you fiddle with the remote. Trying to find something worth watching but it’s three cable tv channels and static.

Not ten minutes later, he comes back out in a t-shirt and underwear. You try to keep your eyes glued to the tv, but fail miserably. He’s very attractive, you decide. Every bit of fabric hugging in exactly the right places. Through the corner of your eye, you catch a slew of scars over his legs. Some are scratches, others look like bullet wounds. No wonder he didn’t bat an eye at sharing the room with a bank robber.

“What,” he muses, climbing under the covers by your side. “Still going to sleep in pants?”

Admittedly, you wanted to be comfortable but weren’t sure if you’d make him feel weird by sleeping in your underwear. But if he is… You slide your pants off under the covers, feeling relieved already.

“I’m not a perv,” he asserts, while flipping through the channels and finding nothing you didn’t already skip. “I won’t touch you or anything.”

Before you can stop yourself you find your mouth mumbling, “but what if I want you to.”

He laughs and before turning off the light you notice his face has darkened a few shades of pink.

Ten minutes later he asks, “wait, were you serious?”

After that, you end up talking for half the night while watching infomercials. While you couldn't quite place when it happened, by the time you're falling asleep both of your legs are tangled up together under the covers.

[scroll to continue the story] 

Dabi/Touya Todoroki ᝰ⛐

“It’s fine,” Dabi mumbles, “still more space than sleeping in that van.”

“Yeah,” you remember how you woke up with his arm around you this morning and hope that’s his default sleeping position.

“We’ve been crammed in that thing all day though, I’ll give you space.”

You think to yourself how unnecessary that is, but appreciate the gesture. Unpacking what you do have, you bring your toiletries into the bathroom to brush your teeth. When you come back out, Dabi's wandered off somewhere already.

Not up for much but still not tired enough to go to bed yet, you look at the hotel info sheet to see what’s around here. There is a pool and hot tub on the other side of the building, with seemingly no hours. You strip down to your underwear, everything covers as much as a swimsuit would which is close enough for you. Grabbing a towel and your keycard, you head out the door.

Arriving at the pool, you see you’re not the only one there. Dabi is already sitting in the hot tub, staring up at the stars. 

The area is dimly lit, a humming light above casting a warm tint over everything, but at least the water looks well-maintained. You unhook the metal gate fencing the area in, drop your towel on a broken plastic lounge chair, and climb in. The bubbles tickle your legs as you sink into a spot across from him. He flashes you a smile in acknowledgement but stays quiet.

Looking up at the clear night sky, it really is beautiful. You get lost in it until the jets slow to a stop.

“I’ve got it,” he says, already half out of the water by the time you look up.

He’s in his underwear as well, the wet cotton clinging to his body as he walks to the control panel. You try not to notice the way the thin fabric gives you a view of everything. Water drips down his back, over the scars which you now know cover most of his body. The bubbles resume and you promptly look up, pretending to have been staring at the sky the whole time. 

When he gets back, he mentions how nice of a night it is and how beautiful it’s been getting out of the city. Small talk turns to more, and before you know it at least an hour has passed, your skin is pruney, and you’re laughing hysterically. Shigaraki Someone yells out of one of the windows at you to be quiet. Glancing at each other, you laugh even harder while grabbing your towels and heading back inside.

You let him take the first shower, knowing it’ll take you a while to scrub the chlorine off your skin. When he comes back out, he’s wearing nothing but his underwear again. Knowing he’ll be sleeping next to you in that hits differently than sitting with him in a hot tub.

“What,” he taunts, walking past you to climb into bed, “nothing you haven’t already seen.”

You hoped he hadn’t noticed you checking him out earlier, but based on the look on his face he doesn’t seem to mind. He makes himself comfortable while you take your turn washing off.

One issue.

The small hair dryer attached to the wall does a slow job of drying your underwear, leaving small damp patches all over the fabric. At some point, you decide it’s good enough and pull them back on along with the shirt you’ve been wearing all week. 

Dabi laughs, “I take it there aren’t clothes in the bag.”

“That is correct,” you walk past him, shoving the massive sack under your side of the bed. “But something tells me you already knew that.”

“I had a suspicion,” he smiles and the world melts around you. “Grab one of my shirts to sleep in, you don’t have to dress like a bank robber 24/7.”

Your jaw drops at the bluntness, but he’s not wrong. You go back into the bathroom, changing into the shirt he let you borrow. When you come back out, the lights are off and he appears to be drifting off to sleep. You climb in next to him.

His arms wrap around you and this time you think it’s on purpose.

⛙ Continued ⛙

According to the alarm clock by the bed, 9:14. Checkout is at 10.

Begrudgingly, you extricate your entwined limbs from his to let him get a few more minutes of sleep. He looks so peaceful and you’d hate to interrupt it. You throw your pants on to see what a free continental breakfast looks like in a place that doesn’t even have wifi. 

Making your way through the parking lot, you think back on the conversations you had last night. Life wasn’t necessarily easy prior to this, there’s a reason you’re on the run with nothing but a stolen bag of money and the clothes on your back. He could have pried more when you declined to talk about it, but he didn’t and you’re grateful for that. Honestly, being on the run with the group has been an amazing break from life, feeling more like a vacation than anything else. 

That’s partially why you offered to share some of the money (that and the fact that you involuntarily made them all accomplices when they picked you up so you felt like you at least owe them some portion of it.) When you brought it up last night, you could tell he wanted to say no but knows that everyone needs it.

The breakfast is exactly what you expected, but at least it’s a meal. You throw a few pale orange slices on a plate with a pastry and whatever else looks edible. Sitting next to Compress and Magne, you begin eating as everyone else slowly trickles in. There’s an occasional knowing glance at you wearing his shirt, but no one says anything until Toga shows up.

“Ooooooooohh,” she starts before Magne kicks her leg under the table.

After everyone eats their fill (and fills their pockets,) you quickly pack up, and you’re all back on the road again.

series masterlist - bnha masterlist

taglist: @kitkat13001 @bitchyfestivalbouquet @shigarakislaughter @idkidk32

[nmhdreamscape]

how bf!dreamies would react to meeting your cat for the first time

pairing | bf!dreamies x reader

content | 100% fluff

note | i wrote each member’s section with a different one of my cats in mind (i have six 🥹). used a different i used to work with as the 7th. hope you enjoy!!

MARK

mark would be super nervous to meet your cat for the first time. not having much experience with cats would only worsen his nerves. he had heard all the horror stories and couldn’t seem to get them out of his head. he knows how much your cat means to you. and with how much you mean to him, he just wants everything to go well.

cue the cutest blob of grey fur mark thinks he has ever seen in his life. pictures just hadn’t done justice to how round and jiggly your cat was. and when she stared up at mark with her huge round eyes, how could he have not fallen for her?

he recalled what he had learned from the youtube tutorials he had watched before coming over and carefully offered out his hand for the cat to sniff. would watch the cat’s behaviour cautiously, practically sweating as his hand was being sniffed. you would watch on, smiling to yourself as you watch his face drop when she seemingly walked away.

“i don’t think she likes me very much.” mark would pout, slowly beginning to stand. as he stood, your cat would come back over, rubbing herself against his legs. he would look down in shock and adoration, signalling for you to be quiet when you went to tease him.

“i told you, she’s like the cat version of me. if i love you, she’s gonna love you too.” you smile as you picked your cat up and placed her in his arms. the pair of them would be inseparable for the rest of the night.

RENJUN

on the outside it may seem as though renjun hadn’t paid a second thought to the fact he was meeting your cat for the first time. on the inside though, he had mapped it all out. that plan soon went out the window the minute he walked through your apartment door.

a blur of orange fur zoomed past him as he let himself into your apartment. renjun thought you had an old cat? weren’t old cats always sleeping? as he continued into your apartment he was stopped in his tracks when the ginger cat ran past him again, almost tripping him over in the process.

“your cat just tried to kill me!” he would complain as he greeted you in the kitchen. as if summoning her, your cat would appear beside him, staring up at him curiously. as renjun moved to crouch down beside her, he noted none of her behaviours indicated that she was uncomfortable. hesitantly, he reached his hand out to pat him. and he immediately regretted it. the cat latched onto his hand, biting down before quickly running away.

“what the fuck! she just bit me!” he complained, holding up his hand for you to inspect. you giggled, pressing a quick kiss over the bite mark before moving past him to pat your cat.

“it’s just how she shows affection, you’ll get used to it.”renjun sent a glare the cat’s way as you picked her up and gave her a pet on the head. as much as he hated the idea of being bitten all the time, he loved the implication that you were planning on having him around long enough to get used to it.

JENO

when you had told jeno you had finally gotten the stray cat in your neighbourhood to settle down with you he didn’t believe you. what soon followed was a barrage of until countless photos showing the cat sprawled out in all sorts of positions. jeno had to see it for himself.

he was greeted by the stray the moment he entered the your apartment. the cat seemed to remember him from the times they had encountered one another on the street. he would begin to pet the cat before having a realisation. and then it would hit him, the sneezing.

“did you forget to take your allergy medication before you left?” you would ask, concerned that he hadn’t stopped sneezing. the stray had scurried away somewhere, startled by the loud noise.

“you’re lucky i’m prepared!” you scolded as you handed him some pills and a glass of water. your boyfriend was anything if not predicable. the sneezing would soon stop and noticing the lack of noise, the cat would return. jeno had taken note of how much better the cat looked, no longer underweight and dirty but well-fed with a pristine coat. all of the signs that you were caring for the cat just like how you cared for him.

“what would we do without you?” he would whisper lovingly, planting a kiss on your forehead. he now had another thing to add to the lists of reasons why he loved you.

HAECHAN

you were a bit nervous to introduce your cat to haechan. before this, every time he had come over you had put her away in a room with all her things to make sure she didn’t freak out. she’s extremely shy and easily scared. you didn’t want anything to go wrong.

standing in front of the two, you honestly couldn’t remember why you were worried. your boyfriend’s kind and caring nature really shone through as he took the time to befriend your cat. you had never seen the fluff-ball warm up to somebody so fast. the pair were cuddled up together on your couch, haechan trying to figure out where your cat preferred to be pet.

“i swear she’s never like this.” you laughed as you watched them from afar. you watched as haechan tentatively rubbed your cats shoulders, knowing that it was her favourite.

“oh my- is she drooling?” he would exclaim, wiping it off of his hand. you nodded at him, joining the two of them on the couch. your cat quickly hopped off of his lap to lie on you instead. he watched bewildered as you petted her gently, mumbling praises as you went.

“i don’t know who to be more jealous of, you or her.” he would sulk, pressing himself into you as you continue to pet the cat in your lap. you would simply roll your eyes, opting to pet his head with your other hand. you quickly picked up on how much he seemed to enjoy it. that would be something you would definitely be taking advantage of in the future.

JAEMIN

jaemin had been practically bashing your door down to meet your cat. he had heard some weird nosies on the other side of the phone on your latest call. you explained to him that they belonged to your cat.

“what do you mean you have a cat?” he gasped, slightly offended he hadn’t known sooner. you quickly cleared up that you hadn’t been hiding a cat from him every time he came over, you were simply watching the family cat while your parents were away on holiday. however, your boyfriend was still determined to meet him. which led to the situation you were currently witnessing.

“ahhh! you’re such a pretty boy yes you are!” jaemin cooed, making a weird combination of a scream and a gasp when your cat rolled over onto his belly with a meow. jaemin shot forward and began to pet the cat in a fashion you could only expect from a cat dad, absolutely enamoured by the cat who reminded him of his own.

“don’t you think that he and luna would look great together?” he looked up at you with pleading eyes. you knew this comment was coming. the second you realised both of you owned ragdolls, you knew he would suggest some kind of pairing.

“jaem, don’t you think it would be a little weird if our children were together?” you questioned, joining him on the floor with your cat. jaemin’s eyes widened comically in realisation, backpedaling on his comment. after much discussion, you ended up settling on your cats being step-siblings. with the plans jaemin had for your future, such an arrangement was only natural.

CHENLE

chenle had never really intended to meet your cat, it all sort of happened on accident. you were returning back from the vet when you got a phone call. phone calls like these weren’t uncommon, chenle had a tendency to leave problems alone until they became absolutely necessary to handle. however, a call had never come at such an inconvenient time before. still, you dragged yourself and your cat over to his place.

“please next time just call me as soon as something is wrong, don’t leave it until the last minute.” you scolded, although you knew it was bound to happen again. you both made your way back into the central area of chenle’s apartment, where you had set down your cat before your boyfriend had whisked you away jnto the other room.

“yeah yeah i know- wait… where’s your cat?” chenle stopped in his tracks, looking at an open carrier. he immediately began running around, worried he was the reason your cat had gotten out. you watched his panic in slight amusement before coming up behind him and stopping him.

“it’s okay! i let him out when i first got here. i couldn’t leave him in his carrier the entire time.” you reassured. chenle let out a sigh of relief. now the focus shifted to finding where your cat had gone in his apartment. you both searched for about 10 minutes before chenle realised exactly where your cat would have gone.

and just as he thought, there in front of him laid daegal and your cat, cuddled up together in one of her many beds. you and your boyfriend looked on adoration and how cute they were, you quietly whispering that your cat loves dogs. chenle silently cursed himself for doubting you and was quickly coming up with ways on how to ask you to make this a regular occurrence in his home.

JISUNG

standing in front of the door to your apartment, jisung would be absolutely terrified to meet your cat. mumbling silent prayers to himself on the way over, he knew his relationship was all but over if he didn’t get the pet’s approval.

it was almost as though there was no cat in the apartment when he entered. that was until he locked eyes with a shadowy figure who had perched himself on the table in your kitchen. you had picked up on the apprehension radiating off of your boyfriend.

“are you good?” you would ask cautiously, giving him a reassuring squeeze as you moved past him. jisung felt a little embarrassed at getting called out. i mean, who was scared of a cat?

“huh? yeah. he’s just a little… scary?” he muttered quietly, hoping that his choice of words wouldn’t offend you. you let out a loud chuckle at this, jisung’s face flushing slightly pink at your reaction. you walked up to him and pinched his cheek before placing a kiss on it. you continued past him over to where your cat was.

“god you’re cute! he’s literally harmless, watch this.” you picked up your cat and rotated him so that he was cradled in your arms. jisung watched on, amazed at how the cat seem to enjoy the way you poke and prodded at him in various way. when you handed your cat over to him, jisung opted simply to give the cat some pets on the head. to his surprise, the cat leaned further into his touch, purring away. he should have known that when it came to you, there was nothing to be scared about.

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masterlist

[xotaemintol]

JISUNG X FEM READER //short//

[WARNING, this short includes the following: overstimulation, dumbification, unprotected sex, and cursing. If you are a minor, LEAVE. If you are triggered by any of these things, kindly look away. Thank you]

Writers block is killing me, but I’m finally finished with my non!idol stalker Jisung fic and part 2 of my non!idol asmrist Jeno fic, plus, i finished the Jungwoo o/s. So i hope y’all don’t mind how short this is, just bear with me until those are posted please, thank all of you so much for the feedback and support on my Mark fic as well ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა it meant a lot to me.

less than 1k wc feedback is always appreciated <3

Jisung is such a cry baby when he’s fucking you. So pussy drunk and overstimulated, he tries he best to apologize for how hard he’s fucking you, feeling bad for how deep he is and how much he’s stretching you out.

Fucking you into the mattress as he moans desperate sorries into your ear, so high off you that he can’t stop himself from pervertedly rambling about how good it feels inside of you.

Even after two rounds he’s still not tired, his strokes just as sharp and quick as before.

‘j-ji…sensitive…it’s…too much…please.’ Your soft pleas don’t stop him though.

Your hot, slick, and soft walls feel so good around him. He loves the way they convulse and squeeze him so tightly.

To help you though the creeping overstimulation—which really just makes it worse, he’ll rub your poor, swollen clit.

His long slender fingers messily massaging the sensitive nub as he kisses you.

‘So pretty, so so pretty.’

It doesn’t take long for another orgasm to rip through your body. Making you tremble as you weakly push against his pelvis, trying your hardest to escape the almost painful pleasure.

‘m’sorry baby, so sorry just a little longer…you’re just—so pretty, you feel so good baby.’ He can hardly form a sentence longer than this, anything else and it’s incoherent moaning and whining.

You know when he says this he means at least half an hour longer, but poor overstimulated Jisung fucked himself dumb and all he cares about is being as deep inside of you as possible.

His words a slurred, incoherent mess. He’ll keep muttering mindlessly ‘just a little longer.’ His voice cracking and whiny as he fucks you faster.

When he finally gets close again his apologies stop, he goes silent—quiet grunts and heavy breathing leaving his mouth occasionally as he fucks the air out of your lungs.

His strokes going from somewhat calculated to messy, uneven, and wild.

The head of his cock kissing your cervix with every thrust, he’s so deep that he’ll likely leave you sore but all that’s on his mind is filling you up until he can’t anymore.

‘gonna…gonna cum…fu-fuck!’ His voice cracks as he cums inside of you, the thick and hot substance hitting your cervix so aggressively as he slams down into you. Remaining completely still as it spurts out.

It’s his third time coming that night and he finally looks a little worn.

His hair is a mess, he’s drenched in sweat, red from his neck up, and breathing like a man being chased.

Jisung stays completely still for a second, too sensitive and tired to move he just waits until he’s no longer hard; which takes a little too long for both of your liking.

When he’s finally calmed down, he makes sure to pull out slow. Knowing that he’d abused your poor pussy for far too long for him to be so careless.

‘I’m sorry baby, it wasn’t too much, right?’

You can only make mange to shake your head, closing your eyes as he lays beside you.

‘I’ll get you a warm towel.’

[xetlynn]

Arcane imagines- Claggor

Old Friends, pt. two

[arcane] [main page]

Part two to [this]

You felt as if your body was buzzing all over. Almost as if it was rejecting whatever was happening currently. You were experiencing and seeing things you’ve never thought was possible. But even during everything you were still on the lookout for your little brother.

Panicking and crying out his name, throat tickling by the straining being done to your vocal chords. Fear filled your entire being. Until finally it all comes to a halting stop and your torso shoots up from a lying position. Gasping for air as if you had been underwater for a long period of time.

Your hand flung to your chest, clenching- almost clawing at it as your heart beats quickly. Once your vision unblurs you’re scanning the area. Taking in the scenery. “Ekko?” Your voice was feeble, small but not hoarse like you were expecting it to be. It was gentle. More than normal. Shakily getting up from a rather large mattress.

“Ekko?” A whisper this time. Of course there wasn’t a response in return but still you searched around the room as if he was hiding. Reminding you back to when Powder and him were young, forcing you to search for them. Only this time you weren’t positively sure he was to be found. “Oh, you’re finally up!” A deep but oddly familiar voice speaks.

You jump, grabbing onto a candle holder and pointing it over to whoever just scared the shit out of you. Threatening them with the metal stick, glared and panicked eyes staring at the figure in the doorway. Steps get closer, unsheathing the person. “You gonna hit me with a candle holder, sweetheart?” He comes into view and instantaneously you feel your heart drop along with the metal that clanged against the wooden floor.

Without even thinking your body moved on its own, running over to him and pushing yourself onto him. Arms flinging around him. “Claggor?” Tears built in your eyes as you cling onto him for dear life. He grunts against your tight grip, hugging you back nonetheless. “You okay? Have another one of those weird nightmares?”

His colossal size hand rubs up and down the small of your back. You whimper in response, not able to speak. He stays silent though, figuring you need to just hold onto him. But once he hears that little sniffle and his shoulder beginning to wet he attempts to pull you back.

The strength of your hold doesn’t let him though. “You were dead.” You hiccup. And Claggor believes he understands. “That type of dream, hm?” He takes your arms, forcing you to let him go and he makes you look at him in the face. “I’m here, mkay? I’m not going anywhere for a long time.” He assures you.

You take in his features. How strong his jawline is and the fact that he’s not wearing his goggles. This isn’t YOUR Claggor. He’s Claggor, somehow. But it can’t be the same one from all those years ago. You examine him, eyes wandering all over his face. “You- you’re so pretty.” You murmur, your small hands compared to his grab onto his face on either side.

Turning his head side to side. He smiles at your antics, letting you do whatever you please. “I’m pretty?” He repeats and you hum out a tiny “yes.” He chuckles, you were practically on your tiptoes as you do this. He’s incredibly tall. Almost a giant compared to you. “You had quite a glow up.” You comment, hands now trailing downward to his arms, squeezing his biceps.

This time earning a full on laugh from the man. You pause momentarily to glance over at his face. A twitch of your lips going upward, it’s been so long since you’ve heard that laugh. “Very large…” You say mainly to yourself but he hears. “You’re silly, but as much as I hate to cut this short, you need to go get ready. We have to go meet Pow and the others at The Last Drop.” He pecks your forehead before standing up straight.

You furrow your eyebrows at the name of the bar you haven’t heard in what felt like forever. “I’ll go make us some coffee while you get yourself dressed.” He tells you before leaving the room and shutting the door behind himself. You stand there idly, not knowing exactly what drawer is yours. Or even what’s happening at this moment.

You head to the first dresser in the room that's about a foot shorter than yourself. Where multiple picture frames sit, pictures of you and Claggor wearing nice, neat clothing. Smiling happily and holding onto one another. Another picture beside that one where you sit atop his lap in a white lace dress.

You look down at your left hand that adores a single silver band. “Married?” You gawk at the simple but beautiful wedding band before looking back up at the pictures. Multiple group photos with Powder, Mylo and Ekko. No Violet?

There’s even one with Silco? What the hell is this universe?

You snap out of it, remembering that he had said you have to be somewhere. You try to think where you’d put clothing. The third drawer? Pulling it open and luckily on the first try you were right. You take out a pair of pants and a regular shirt. Not knowing exactly what to put on.

You turn around and spot a mirror nailed onto the wall. Your face scrunches, not recognizing who you’re looking at. Stepping closer to it. Your hand touches your weirdly unscarred face. Eyebags gone and you look… healthy? Your skin seemed to be less pale. Were you taller?

A few knocks are heard at the door and you snap your head over. It creaks open just slightly. “You okay in here? Taking a bit longer than normal.” He snickers, coming in and placing down a mug filled with roasted goodness. “Oh, sorry. Just a bit out of it.” You smile, crinkling your eyes. He takes a sip of his own mug, waving you off.

“You’re fine sweetheart, some dreams mess you up.” He shrugs and as he stays standing there the two of you just stare at one another. “You gonna change?” He asks, pressing his lips into a thin line. “With you in here?” You defensively question.

“Sweetheart? I’ve seen you naked plenty of times. What’s different now?” He raises a brow and your face grows warm. How stupid of you, in this universe the two of you are married. “R-right. Um, can you close your eyes? I’m feeling a little… self conscious this morning.” You lie and his face softens but does as asked. Closing his eyes for you.

You let out a sigh of relief. Roughly taking off your pajamas before shuffling on clean ones. “Okay, done!” You huff out, carrying the dirty pajamas in one of your hands. “Awesome.” He comes over to you, grabbing the laundry from you.

•••

As you’re walking through Zaun you’re amazed by how bright and happy looking everything is. Instead of the darkness and fight people went through back home. Your home.

Your hand fit nicely in your husbands as you enter the bar. The energy was different from when you were a teenager. Sneaking into the bar to see what was happening. “Hey lovebirds!” A voice booms and you feel like you were going to cry already. “Vander!” You smile, letting go of Claggor’s hand.

“How are you doing, [Name]?” He asks whilst making a drink and you beam. “I’m good, rough morning but nonetheless good. How are you?” You sit down at the bar. To him you were acting as if you hadn’t seen one another in months when in reality it had only been a few days. For you, it had been what felt like an eternity.

“I’m alright,” He chuckles, peering back to your husband who shrugs his shoulders, his hand going to your hip and laying there. An action that causes you to tense up, gazing up at him. Relaxing and smiling at him. He does the same in return. “Is uh… Is Benzo around?” You anxiously ask, hoping that he’s not dead in this universe as well.

“Ye-” “Am I around? Acting like I’ve died since the last time you’ve seen me!” Your face drops and you spin around, almost falling off as you do so. Jumping off the chair to pull him into a hug.

“Oof! Woah there!” He pats your back, letting out a small laugh while doing so. “You and your brother sure are acting weird today.” He comments and you let him go, gripping onto his shoulders. “Where’s Ekko?” You spit out.

•••

And now you’re with him, standing where your home would be in your guys’ universe. Empty, showing no signs of life. “I can’t believe you said that to her.” You grimace and he nudges you. “It wasn’t on purpose.” He defends himself, causing you to laugh. “I know but you do not have a way with words. Like at all.” You bare your teeth.

“And you’re married in this universe. That’s crazy.” He changes the subject to which you roll your eyes. Looking down at the ring on your finger. Fidgeting with it with your thumb. “Yeah…” You trail off.

“Is it weird? For you?” He asks and you tilt your head. “All of this is weird, Ekko.”

“No I know, I just. Powder or Jinx whatever is still alive. I never truly experienced her actual death. You experienced Claggors. And to see him alive? How does it feel?”

You stay quiet momentarily, chewing at your bottom lip as you truly think about what he’s asking. “It’s strange. Hearing his voice- a deeper version at that. Seeing what he would’ve grown into. What we would’ve grown into.” You blink away tears harshly. “That this is never possible where we come from. That the last time I ever saw him was dead against a wall with Mylo on the other side of me. Somehow I lived.” You avert his gaze that focused on you as you spoke.

“I- I hate this as it’s a reminder that this isn’t mine. But I love it, selfishly because I can have him here. I can love him here, proudly and loudly. Not having to grip onto a pair of goggles whenever I want to see him. I can just go… see him.” You overly explain to him as a singular tear falls down your left eye.

“You don’t plan on leaving with Heimerdinger and I, do you?” He quietly asks and you look up at him. “I couldn’t do that to you.” You answer him truthfully.

“But if I told you I think you should stay. Would you?” The both of you sit down against the large wall. Your silence was an answer within its own but he repeats himself. “Are you telling me I should stay?”

“I think you deserve to be selfish for once.” He wraps an arm around your shoulder and you lean into him. “I’ll think about it.” You rasp, closing your eyes.

[brokenmenswhore]

betrothals & brothels | aegon, aemond, & jace

part 6 (finale)

pairings: aegon targaryen x stark fem!reader, aegon targaryen x stark fem!reader, jacaerys velaryon x stark fem!reader

series summary: aemond targaryen tells the realm that you, the lady of house stark, are to wed him and secure a partnership in the north. in protest, you agree to marry jacaerys velaryon, affirming the north’s allegiance to rhaenyra. when the news hits king’s landing, aegon decides it’s better to have you under his watchful eye until the political partnership is solidified, but doesn’t realize you have a life away from your duty as a stark

chapter warnings: SPOILERS: smut (MDNI 18+), anal, double penetration, foursome

a/n: if you thought this was ending literally any other way… you came to the wrong blog. it’s like the whole reason i wrote this damn series. also PLEASE keep in mind it’s been MONTHS since i wrote the other 5 parts so i did my BEST with continuity life happens okay also i didn’t proofread sue me

series masterlist

────── ☾ ──────

“Surely you must be lying.”

Cregan, who was already overwhelmed and upset with you, sighed in defeat. “I cannot explain to you how truly I wish I was.”

“I’m going to kill him,” you said, storming off past your brother with an intensity that only the culprit of your anger could match.

It was much too early in the morn for you to be dealing with such a strife, but it could not wait. He would not ever expect to, anyway.

You pushed open the Great Hall doors so forcefully that they slammed back against the wall, violently alerting the room’s occupant of your presence. You stopped just after the doors, refusing to grant him the kindness of moving any closer.

“I cannot fathom one singular acceptable reason for your being here,” you spat.

Aemond smirked, still nonchalantly hunched over in a grand chair. “Trust me, I did not wish this so.”

“Oh, you mean to tell me the great one-eyed prince had his hand forced? Not likely.”

“I’ve never seen you quite this angry,” Aemond taunted, “I rather enjoy it.”

Aemond tried to stand, but you quickly warned, “move and I’ll kill you.”

“Doubtful,” he said, still nonchalant as he stood and straightened out his back.

“Aemond, I swear to the sep-“

“I’m here for my brother.”

Despite your anger, you were taken aback by Aemond’s words. Aegon had left days ago.

“Sore luck checking here.”

“I know he came here. Give him back and I’ll depart.”

You scoffed. “You make the mistake of assuming your brother is a piece of property, much like how you treated me.”

“Give him back and I’ll depart,” he repeated.

“I already told you, he’s not here.”

“You think I cannot tell when you lie?” Aemond contested, stepping forward.

“Do not take another step,” you warned.

“What reason do you have to guard him, hm? You truly fancy him so much? Clearly you must if you bed him,” Aemond said, stepping even closer.

“I do not enjoy repeating myself,” you said.

Aemond was now even closer to you, his body mere inches from your own. “Give me Aegon.”

You spoke through gritted teeth, pausing between your words for emphasis, “he. Is. Not. Here.”

Aemond stepped closer, and you took a step backward to avoid your bodies touching. He did not stop, however, and continued to encroach upon your personal space until your back hit the wall of the dining hall.

Aemond slammed his hands against the wall on either side of your head, trapping you in the cage of his presence.

“You think I wanted to come here? Do you think I would have truly done so if not necessary?”

You were taken aback by Aemond’s sudden candor. “If you wish to see your brother, you should look no further than your own home. He left Winterfell as quickly as he came.”

“Then explain to me why his bed has remained unoccupied.”

“What makes you think I would know? Perhaps he frequents the very brothel he, like yourself, found me in.”

Aemond’s face was intimately close to your own, but you tried your hardest to focus your gaze toward his eye. You remained in a stalemate for several moments, exchanging a weighted stare.

“Okay,” Aemond said, backing away and holding his arms behind his back in a proper stance, “did he say where he was headed?”

“I suppose he returned home, Aemond, I do not keep track of your king.”

Aemond remained silent.

You both stared expectantly at one another, yet the room filled with silence.

“I am to wed Jacaerys in the morn,” you said, calculated but somewhat blurt out.

“I am aware.”

“Do you not, perhaps, think it nice to attend?”

Aemond stared at you for a moment. “You wish for me to attend your wedding?”

“You are already here.”

Aemond nearly scoffed. “You have not hidden your disdain for me, Stark. Extending the courtesy of an invitation does not mask such things.”

“Contrary to what you may believe, I do not enjoy hating you,” you said.

“I very hesitantly decline.”

You furrowed your brow. “You decline?”

You had extended the invitation, perhaps for selfish reasoning, but outwardly to show Aemond a kindness. After all he had put you through, the very least he could do was attend your wedding. After all, it has been his own actions that were responsible for its delay.

“Accept my gratitude for the invitation-“

“After all you have done-“

“After all I have done?” Aemond’s voice suddenly raised, but you stopped him before he could continue.

“I thought you and I had an understanding, yet you told of my doings in King’s Landing in a heinous letter to my brother. I did not think you so spiteful. You- you-“

“You- you have been the very bane of my existence,” he took over, “You have contradicted my every action, my every word, my every thought, and held yourself in rather high regard in doing so. You spoilt an alliance with the North for my house-“

“You petulant child!” you cut him off, your voice overtaking his, “is all you care about your honor? Your duty? Is kindness for naught? You dare take anger with me and speak that I spoilt an alliance for your house? Do you forget what you’ve done? How you threatened to burn my home? Abducted me from it? Kept me prisoner in hopes I would bend to your will?”

“I did what I had to do!” Aemond screamed, “while you spent the time you could have been comfortable in a castle slumming it as a whore-“

“Are you truly so bothered that you could not bend me to your will? All you want is to feel like you have the power, like you’re a man more so than your brother. You never cared about a marriage, you never thought of even attempting to gain my affections, yet you storm around this room, in my home, like a toddler whose toy has been taken away-“

“I AM BOTHERED BECAUSE I COULD NOT GAIN YOUR AFFECTIONS!”

It was not often you were rendered speechless. It was not in your nature. However, upon hearing Aemond’s rather bellowing confession, all time stood still.

He suddenly became brutally aware of his words, and quieted his voice, fighting to calm down his angered breaths as he looked to you for a retort.

“Excuse me?” you spoke, your voice low.

You looked to Aemond, but he could not speak. He had stunned himself into silence.

You swallowed hard as the air thickened. You initiated a break in eye contact and attempted to collect your thoughts quicker than usual. You had to speak first, and you had to have the last word.

“I will ask the handmaidens to prepare a bed chamber in the Guest House near the Godswood,” you said, your tone forcefully monotonous, “I shall see you in the morn.”

You, without looking up at Aemond, turned on your heel and exited the Great Hall.

────── ☾ ──────

The thrashing of your body against the mattress abruptly pulled you from slumber, your handmaidens frantic as they shook you awake.

No one was more excited for your wedding day, perhaps, than your handmaidens. As women you considered friends, they had all seen the sparks fly between you and Jacaerys, and had all looked forward to this day for as long as you were old enough for men to propose marriage to their son for a trade of goods.

You reminded yourself of all that was at stake; you wanted this marriage, you wanted Jacaerys, but that did not mean there was no turmoil ahead. Jacaerys’s family would, as tradition tells, be in attendance. You had never been granted the privilege of meeting the Queen.

You contemplated that it was a rather crass and impulsive decision to ask Aemond to attend, given that he was perhaps Rhaenyra’s biggest foe. Yes, Aegon had her throne, but Aemond was more of a threat to Rhaenyra and her cause, and all of the realm knew it.

You allowed yourself a moment of calm as you remembered Aemond’s decline of your invitation and your subsequent argument.

The argument.

Had Aemond truly spoken the words you believed to have heard? Had he truly said he was bothered by his inability to gain your affections? Had he wanted to gain your affections?

As you stated into the mirror, your handmaidens tending to your hair, you wondered if you had possibly forsaken the depth of Aemond’s character. Had you been so headstrong as to miss a whole other person behind the eye? You had experienced the same with Aegon.

It was the day you were to wed Jacaerys, and you could not forget the two silver-haired brothers who had plagued your past several weeks.

“It’s time!” your handmaidens exclaimed.

You glanced in the mirror one final time to ensure all the minute details of your appearance were up to your standards before you were whisked away to marry Jacaerys.

You were grateful that he had agreed to host the wedding in Winterfell. Winterfell was, while devoted to the Blacks, a more neutral space than Dragonstone. Had Aemond or Aegon agreed to attend, a wedding elsewhere would not likely ever take place.

The wedding was beautiful.

Your handmaidens has spearheaded a majority of the work, being that the work had begun, then you were kidnapped and the work was halted, and then a while later you returned and agreed to wed Jacaerys rather soon after.

You had made it to your reception, a rather lavish affair considering it was the wedding of the Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. You understood that this wedding was special. Jacaerys was to be King someday, and therefore you were to be Queen.

Jacaerys seemed elated the entire time. You were able to grasp a quick moment of solitude in a whisper between chairs.

“Jace?”

“Yes?”

“Is everything alright? I know it’s been a rather tumultuous week and-“

Jacaerys sighed. “My love, I’ve already told you I am not angry about what transpired with Aegon. Even if I had been, this is our wedding. And our wedding day means a rather fun wedding night, wouldn’t you agree?”

He was evidently feeling the effects of the many cups he has drank thus far.

You smiled at your now-husband. “Jacaerys Velaryon, are you flirting with me? But won’t your wife see?”

Jacaerys leaned over to whisper in your ear, “I’ve heard you could probably fuck better anyway.”

You leaned away and caught his gaze to gage whether or not he meant it as spite toward you, but the look on his face immediately explained that he meant it positively. Being experienced acted as a rather unexpected turn on for your husband.

────── ☾ ──────

“Are you still drunk?”

Jacaerys smiled. “I appreciate your concern, but no,” he insisted, “I’m well sobered up for this.”

You sat on your bed, still fully clothed, in anticipation of the bedding ceremony. Jacaerys extended his hand to you, and you placed yours in his, allowing him to guide you to a stand.

“Can I take this dress off of you?” he asked.

You smiled at his sweetness. “Yes.”

Jacaerys undid all the small buttons aligned down your back and slipped top of the dress down your shoulders, allowing you to shimmy out of the remainder of the rather lavish gown.

You were so focused on disrobing that you had not noticed Jacaerys’s momentary absence until he returned in front of you, holding out a black cloak.

You looked up at him with a questioning expression.

“I am in this for every part of you, Stark,” he explained, “a bedding ceremony in this castle just simply will not do. It is not fit for you.”

“Jacaerys-“

He held up a hand to signal that he intended to continue. “We do not have to. However, please understand that I want to know. I want to experience. I want to feel the freedom you feel in those places. Teach me, Y/N. Please.”

You searched Jacaerys’s eyes for any hint of hesitation or untruthfulness, but to no avail. The prospect of brothels excited him, but he was not one to attend. He craved connection, and he craved intimacy with a name, a personality, a partner. The dichotomy had lived within him, and your secret profession was finally an outlet.

“We must be extremely discreet.”

────── ☾ ──────

You took Jacaerys to the brothel you worked at, perhaps no longer. You had advised him to still maintain anonymity via his cloak, for regardless of the higher safety of your concealed identity at this particular brothel, you were still in Winterfell, and you were still a Stark.

At the allowance of the Madam, you began to pull Jacaerys toward an unoccupied room. Once inside, you removed the hood of your cloak. Jacaerys followed suit.

“‘Tis loud in here,” Jacaerys said, in reference to the moaning and bellowing laughter of collective drunken men.

You nodded. Jacaerys wasted no time.

He pulled your waist into his body, crashing his lips against yours as if he had been waiting to reunite with them for ages.

Your hands instinctively found their way through the curly black strands of his hair, keeping him close to you as the kiss remained hungry and needy.

You managed to escape for a breath just long enough to say, “wait.”

Jacaerys pulled away with a pout on his lips.

“Patience, Jace, allow me to get some cups in here.”

“But-“

“I will not be but two minutes.”

Jacaerys pouted as you began to exit the room, flipping your hood upward.

Jacaerys reached out for your arm to pull you back. “Baby, please.”

The pet name almost stopped you, but you persevered. When you still left, he plopped down on the bed like a toddler in want throwing a tantrum.

You kept your head down as you navigated through the brothel. You saw approaching footsteps as a guide to where you could step, and you had managed to memorize the layout of the brothel by heart. You made it to the bar without having to look at any of your immediate surroundings.

It was not until the Madam approached you that you halfway lifted your head and requested two cups of water and two cups of wine.

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

The voice to your right was all too familiar.

You were taken aback by the sight of him. He would appear drunk to the naked eye, but you knew him. The look in his eyes communicated that he had drank to the point of intolerance, no longer drunk, but drinking nonetheless.

Aemond was right. He had not returned home. He had never even left Winterfell.

“What are you doing here?”

“Could ask you the same,” he said, taking a large gulp from his cup, “or is it not your wedding night?”

He refused to look you in the eye. In fact, he had not looked toward you at all. He was able to identify your voice, even with the cloaked barrier between the two of you.

“Aegon, you told me you would leave the morn after whence you came.”

“Evidently I did not.”

The Madam placed the drinks in front of you, and you smiled as a thank you, waiting until she left your space to continue speaking to Aegon.

“Why?”

Aegon simply let out a laughable scoff and continued to drink.

“Aegon.”

“Y/N.”

“What are you doing in Winterfell, Aegon.” It was phrased more as an exhausted sentence, rather than a genuine question.

Aegon sighed. “You mustn’t pretend as if you are unaware of my plights.”

You were not unaware. You had thought of him many a time since your intimacy together, and you knew he had done the same. You also knew that you and Aegon were far past the point of disguising vulnerabilities.

“Is Jace around? Or are you a lone wolf on your wedding night? My little nephew can’t handle you?”

“Do not bait me, Aegon, you know it will not work,” you said.

“No, no, where is he? Is he here?” Aegon stood abruptly, swinging wine out of his cup as he began to spin around.

“Aegon-“

“Is he in here?” Aegon approached an occupied room, swinging back the fabric to see a worker and her customer.

“Nope,” Aegon said, moving on to another room, “maybe he’s hiding in here!”

Aegon swung the fabric open to find his own flesh and blood curled into a ball on the mattress, two workers surrounding him as he lay with his head in one of their laps.

He shot upward the moment he spotted Aegon, and his body stilled when he noticed you.

Aegon erupted into cacophonous laughter, a wide grin appearing on his features for perhaps the first time tonight.

Aemond stood and began to tie a robe around his lean, tall frame, pretending as if Aegon’s interruption and subsequent laughter did not bother him.

“Oh, what a sight! We shall never need comfort of our mother if we find solace here! How sweet of you. Tell me, do you even fuck them, or do you-“

Aemond pushed past both of you, but you gripped his wrist before he could make it fully past you.

He looked to where you had caught him, then up to your face.

“What are you doing here?” Aegon squealed.

Aemond stayed silent.

“I cannot stand you two. Come with me,” you said.

You pulled Aemond along, and he only obliged so as not to cause a scene and draw attention to himself or his brother. Aegon followed you out of pure amusement.

When you entered the room with Jacaerys, he was already shirtless, adjusting his posture on the bed to try to look proper for your return. When he spotted his uncles, he reacted the same as Aemond had, shooting upward to a stand.

You dropped Aemond’s hand and stood across from the three Targaryen-blooded men. Dropping your cloak off of your body, you took a large breath.

“Well, get on with it, then,” Aegon prompted.

“You,” you started, pressing a pointer finger into Aegon and Aemond’s chests, “you two have been sulking and stalking around Winterfell without a word. What am I, your mother? A king and a soldier should be able to overcome their own woes.”

“So you admit I am king?” Aegon smiled.

“Never.”

“Why have you lingered in the North so long?” Aemond cut you off, turning to his brother, “I am only here because your incompetent council sent me to retrieve you.”

“I do not need retrieving, thank you, brother,” Aegon responded.

“I opt to disagree, for it appears that you’ve spent the last several days drowning your sorrows in snowy brothels in hopes you’ll find yourself another pet wolf, or am I mistaken?”

“Mind your tongue and remember your place,” Aegon spit.

“This is-“

Jacaerys attempted to interject, but his two uncles were too far invested in their own bickering.

“Just as well for you to remember yours. What King discards their duty for the loss of a woman that was not theirs to lose? You are but a placeholder, you evidently do not deserve-“

“You speak so confidently for a man in my same position when it comes to wolves.”

Jacaerys began to understand. He knew you had shared intimacies with Aegon, and he had yet to question you on the dynamics present during your time with his other uncle. He had fallen for you rather easily, and would never admit it aloud, but could understand how his uncles could do just the same. Though it left a bitter taste in his mouth, he knew you were much too special to win the heart of only one man.

The realization caused Jacaerys to become somewhat competitive and possessive. “You are both aware we wed today,” he said.

Aemond and Aegon turned toward him.

“Despite my best efforts,” Aegon mumbled.

“Oh shut it, Aegon, you have already had her,” Jacaerys snapped back, “what sorrows do you possibly have to drown?”

“You married her.”

“And I have been cast as the villain, yet you two continue to be the ones to bicker,” Aemond spoke, level-headed.

“Perhaps you were cast as the villain because you acted as such,” Jacaerys shrugged.

“Say that again,” Aemond challenged, stepping closer to Jacaerys and towering over him. Had he possessed his sword, he would have drawn it.

“You kidnapped her, and now you stand here and complain that you-“

“I took her with me upon Aegon’s command,” Aemond cut off.

“Do not transfer the blame, brother. I thought I was too incompetent to be king?” Aegon tested.

“You are, that is why I am to be king,” Jacaerys said.

“Oh, but who sits on the throne, little boy?” Aegon spat, “because it certainly is not some-“

“Do not presume to-“

“You could not handle a woman like this if you tried,” Aegon continued.

All three men huffed in a stalemate, angered as they exchanged glances, all unsure of how to retort.

“Are you lot done then?” you questioned, seated on the bed nonchalantly.

“So what?” Aegon threw his hands up, “you dragged us in here so that we can all bicker? Is Jacaerys truly so boring that you cannot be alone with him, even on your wedding night?”

“Aegon, if you do not shut-“

“Innocent little Jacey, do you even know how to bed a woman?” Aegon tested.

Aemond scoffed in laughter, a smirk painting his otherwise stoic features.

“I must know something, if she chose me in the end,” Jacaerys replied.

“She’ll get bored,” Aemond began, speaking calm and collected, “and she will seek a challenge. Neither of you can provide the level of wit or intellect that I have.”

You remained silent, enjoying the entertainment from the men arguing. You hoped you were right about where this would all lead, you just needed to exercise patience.

Aegon, as he usually did, chose to ignore his brother, and continue chastising Jacaerys. “Do you need help, nephew? I can teach you, if you need, as I know you most definitely do not know-“

“And you do? You do not respect women the way one must in order to-“

“One man forever will never be enough for her,” Aemond interjected.

Jacaerys knew Aemond only said it to get it under his skin, however, despite his better judgement and knowledge, it was working. Jacaerys felt the pang of doubt in the back of his mind that this woman, this free, sexual woman who had bed multiple men, would not be fulfilled by just him.

Aemond could see his words sinking in. Aemond, the most calculated and logical of them all, knew there would only be one way to get you. “Allow us to aid you, Jacaerys.”

Aegon looked at his brother. “Excuse me?”

Aemond turned toward you. He had thought many times what he remembered now: you were the only one on his level. With you, he met his match.

He allowed Aegon and Jacaerys to bicker like children while he studied your expressions. He could tell exactly what game you were playing. You were stuck between three Targaryens, and while you wed one, Aemond believed that it did not mean you intended to tether yourself. He felt as if he knew you too well for that.

“She is my wife now, Aemond,” Jacaerys warned.

“And I will ensure she feels as such.”

The energy in the room began to shift. Despite the years of hatred, argument, and war, you wanted them all, and the one thing they had in common is that they all wanted you. They all had to internally admit the violent truth that the only way to have you wholly would be to share you.

You stood and approached your husband. “I promise to save the sanctity of our marriage for you, and you alone.” You assured him that he would be the only one to risk pregnancy tonight.

You maintained eye contact with Jacaerys as you removed your clothing until you were fully naked.

Jacaerys, despite the dread of critique from his uncles, could not wait any longer. He captured your lips in a heated kiss, refusing to worry about the other men in the room and focus on what he wanted.

You stepped backward until you felt the bed behind your legs. You swiftly turned Jacaerys around, pushing his back toward the mattress until he was horizontal.

He shifted his weight backwards so that his legs were no longer dangling off the mattress, but he was horizontal across the midsection of the foam.

You straddled his waist, tangling your fingers through the curly black strands of his hair as you resumed your kiss.

You grinded against his clothed length, eliciting a slight whimper from Jace in the kiss. Your felt yourself wetten at from the noise; you had been waiting what felt like a millennium to finally have him.

“Okay, okay, I’m going,” you heard Aegon say as Aemond positioned him behind you.

Aegon gently brushed his fingertips across the skin of your lower back, signaling his presence so as not to startle you.

You leaned back down to kiss Jacaerys again, and his hands found their way to your waist. He instinctively thrust his hips upward, desperate for friction.

You felt Aegon’s fingertips leave your skin, and in their place, two large hands grasped your waist and yanked your body backward so that your waist no longer hovered over Jacaerys’s, and your knees nearly slipped off the mattress.

In this new position, your face was mere inches away from where Jacaerys wanted you most.

“Off,” you said, tugging at the waistband of his breeches. Jacaerys shyly removed them, his cheeks flush when his cock sprung free in front of everyone.

You gazed up at Jace through hooded lids, licking a stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, before sinking down onto as much of his length as you could.

Jacaerys threw his head back, a gasp escaping his lips at the sensation of your lips around him. His curls were splayed out on the mattress surrounding his head. He looked so handsome; the way his features contorted as he whined and moaned were reminiscent of a sculpture, an artist chipping away at beautiful marble and stone until the features were defined, each chip shifting the features, however they never lost beauty.

You began to bob your head up and down, and you admired the way Jacaerys’s stomach tightened with each stretch of his back or sharp inhalation.

You could hear when Jacaerys inadvertently let himself get lost in the pleasure, because his heavenly sounds were growing rapidly in volume and length.

One of his hands found the back of your head, and he did not apply pressure, but simple kept his hand there for the comfort that it meant you would not pull away.

You felt a tap on the inside of your left thigh. “Wider,” Aemond commanded.

You lifted off of Jacaerys’s cock with a pop, turning your head around to look at Aemond. “Or what?”

Aemond nearly growled, knowing you were too stubborn to not get your way. He swallowed his pride, and through gritted teeth, said, “please.”

You smirked at your success and widened your legs. It forced your backside higher, leaving you on display for Aemond and Aegon, who resided next to his brother in anticipation.

Your mouth resumed its attention toward Jace, and he let out a rather filthy moan of your name.

Aemond ran a slender finger through your folds, drawing more wetness from you. He knelt to the ground, still almost taller than you on his knees from his extravagant height.

His hands wrapped around your thighs as he delved into your cunt, his tongue dancing through your folds.

You remained attached to Jace, but that did not stop whimpers and moans. The vibrations around Jace’s cock send shivers up his spine.

“Can’t,” was all Jacaerys could say to signal that you had to cease your actions, or else he would come.

You pulled off of him and immediately let out a strangled moan. Aemond moved his tongue faster and faster monitoring your facial expressions the best he could from behind you.

You dropped your head onto Jacaerys’s thigh, one cheek pressed against his skin and the other toward the sky, allowing him to watch your face as Aemond ate you out.

Jacaerys could not help but stroke your hair, pushing the sweat-soaked strands out of your face as he watched your brows furrow and lips part in pleasure.

Your back arched and straightened slightly every few seconds as you moved against Aemond’s tongue. He was as skilled as you had expected. His nose hit against you every few movements he made, adding to your arousal.

His grip on your hips was becoming tighter and tighter. He felt a certain possessiveness take over as his brother, who typically got everything while Aemond got nothing, and Jacaerys, the one who actually got you, watched him pleasure you so good you nearly fell apart.

He licked and sucked at your cunt, his grasp on your legs definitively hard enough to bruise as your whines became higher and higher in pitch.

It was not until you began to grind yourself against his tongue that he stilled, allowing you to use his tongue for your own pleasure.

Your ever so slightly bounced your hips upward and downward against Aemond’s face, and the sight just about killed Aegon.

Jacaerys continued to stroke your hair as a reminder that he was there, and he was your husband.

Aemond pulled away without warning, leaving your core exposed and cold. He circled the bed until he was in front of you, but he was still fully clothed. He was playing a calculated game, and you caught on. Knowing Aemond, he would only take his turn when it was the least convenient for you.

You knee-crawled back to Jacaerys’s hips, looking down at his face as you searched for any signal that he was not ready for you.

You took Jacaerys’s cock in your hand, and after a few short strokes, you lined it up with your entrance, slowly sinking down until he was entirely inside of you.

You placed your hands on either side of his head, your back slightly arched as you searched for his reaction.

“Holy- oh my- fuck,” Jacaerys moaned. You had yet to move.

Aegon stood behind you, simply enjoying the sight of you as his cock throbbed with desire.

“Let me know when I can move, Jace,” you spoke softly.

“Oh my gods please move,” he nearly begged.

You appeased him but lifting your hips a small amount before dropping them back again, and Jacaerys lost all control. His body writhed beneath you, and you had to place a hand onto his cheek to draw him back to earth.

“Relax, Jacey.”

Jacaerys took a deep breath. “No.”

Jace wrapped a strong arm around your waist and pulled you into his body, causing your head to fall into the crook of his neck as your body pressed against his chest.

He began to thrust his hips upward, pumping in and out of you at a steady pace. The arm around your waist held you in place, allowing Jacaerys control as he used you.

“Shit- you feel b- better than I imagined,” he sighed out.

You moaned in response, unable to make much noise since one hand was against the back of your neck, holding you in place against him, and your voice fell straight into the mattress.

Despite his own selfish desires, Aegon allowed Jacaerys quality time to feel and connect with you. He could wait another few minutes if it meant he didn’t have to give you up.

Jacaerys pressed down on your lower back, pushing you back against his thrusts, causing his cock to hit even deeper within you. You arched your back and moaned in his ear at the sensation.

You whisper-whined so only he could hear, “doing so good, Jacey.”

The praise only egged him on more, and he began to thrust inside of you as quickly as he possibly could.

He tired quickly, resetting a steady pace.

Aegon took it as an opportunity to touch you again, this time by tapping his hardened cock against one of your ass cheeks.

“Jace, baby, wait a second,” you said.

“I don’t think I can- shit, can ever stop fucking you,” he moaned.

“One minute, my love, just still for one minute,” you pleaded, and Jacaerys forced himself to stop moving.

He gave Aegon a dirty look, so as to say ‘how dare you interrupt my fun.’

Aegon used his fingers to circle your folds for a moment, causing your core to clench around Jacaerys.

He used your wetness to lubricate his cock as best as he could before he lined it up with your backside.

You inhaled a sharp breath when his tip prodded past your ass. He stopped in fear that he had hurt you, and you noticed. “I’m okay,” you assured him, looking back at him.

“Just take it slow,” Jacaerys said, “if you hurt her, I swear to the sept-“

You leaned down and kissed Jacaerys to quiet him down as Aegon pushed further and further into you, slowly, almost excruciatingly so, until he was bottomed out inside of you.

Jacaerys was careful not to move until you had adjusted to Aegon as well.

When the burning sensation of pain subsided, you caught your breathing and told Aegon to be gentle and move.

Aegon did just that, fighting with every cell of his being to treat you kindly, when all he truly desired was to take you as he had in King’s Landing. He moved only halfway in and out, scared that any more intensity or movement would be too overstimulating.

Aegon set a slow rhythm, and Jacaerys gripped your hips to still them as he himself began to move.

You inhaled a sharp breath at the sudden stimulation. You had been in a room with two men before, but had never taken them at the same time.

“Are you alright?” Jacaerys half-whispered through shuddered breath, evidently struggling to speak and keep his composure.

You kissed him to ease his worries. He reciprocated instantly, and became greedy. He cherished that intimate moments like this could be his and his alone, despite what his two uncles may attempt.

You whined and whimpered as the two men fucked you in tandem. The pressure was enough to break you, but you refused to focus on anything apart from the intense pleasure of it all.

Just as it became pure ecstasy, you felt Aemond’s slender fingers stroke your hair. You lifted your gaze to meet his eye, then dropped your head slightly to see his hardened cock patiently waiting for your attention.

You began to shake your head. “No. Not unless the- fuck, shit, Aeg- take it easy- not unless, fuck! Eye patch. Off.”

Aemond stared down at your frame, gazing up at him expectantly, waiting for him to remove his eye patch while your body jolted forward and backward every few seconds or so.

Aegon’s presence was the reason Aemond was hesitant, and you knew it. Aegon had spend his entire life relentlessly teasing his brother for his handicap, but as Aemond looked to Aegon, he realized that Aegon did not even have the capacity to pay attention to his actions. Aegon was blissed out, a way Aemond had never seen when he had interrupted his brother with previous suitors and whores.

Aemond suddenly became violently aware that all three men currently occupying you were in the same boat; Jacaerys and Aegon were no strangers to Aemond’s feelings toward you. Though your relationship to Aemond was different, and his feelings were of different reason, they were present in all of them nonetheless.

Aemond almost felt bad for you, worried that the sheer amount of men surrounding you was much too overstimulating for you, but you hoisted your upper half upward, no longer laying on Jacaerys’s chest, but arms propped up on either side of his head as you looked to Aemond.

You reached up as far as you could, but could not stretch yourself high enough to capture Aemond’s eye patch in your hand. The new angle proved positive for Jacaerys, who threw his head back against the mattress and he rutted his hips even faster within you.

Aegon, ever competitive, felt the change in pace, and met it, fucking you faster and faster.

Jacaerys and Aegon entered a silent battle, each trying to fuck you faster and harder than the other, all the while still consumed in their own pleasure, and never looking at one another.

Your body subsequently collapsed onto Jacaerys. You allowed your body to adjust to the new brutal pacing, and when you looked back up to Aemond, his eye patch was gone.

“Beautiful,” you mouthed to Aemond, and you could have sworn you noticed a faint blush creep up to the apples of his cheeks.

Without breaking your eye contact, you opened your mouth and stick out your tongue, inviting Aemond to take the lead, as you couldn’t hold yourself up without falling straight back down onto your husband.

Aemond took his length in one hand and gripped your jaw in the other. His gaze was harsh as he pressed the head of his cock against your tongue. You closed your mouth around the muscle and he pushed in slowly, bottomed out, and immediately pulled out.

“You will not break me, Aemond, take me how you wish.”

Aemond did not need to be told twice.

He shoved his cock past your lips and began to fuck your mouth in a steady pace, not nearly close to the vigor Jacaerys and Aegon had, but steady nonetheless.

You moaned around Aemond’s cock as you squeezed around Jacaerys’s, and both men groaned in tandem.

“Fuck,” Jacaerys whined.

You could have waged that Jacaerys would be the first to come. He was the least experienced and the most pent up. You guessed that he would have come even earlier had he not pushed himself through a few near-orgasms to save himself from the teasing of his uncles.

Jacaerys grunted as he pistoned his hips against yours. He had no space to pull out of you to come, and he did not want to anyhow. His breathing quickened as the coil snapped in his lower abdomen.

Your head was still as Aemond fucked your mouth, and you squeaked around his cock when you felt Jacaerys’s seed paint your walls.

Jacaerys hit your hips with a few harsh thrusts, using you to milk his cock dry, and the thrusts pushed you further into Aemond’s cock. You fought back a gag as his tip brutally hit the back of your throat.

Clearly it was proper pleasure for Aemond, since he snaked one hand through the hair on the back of your head as he held you in place, and continued to hit the same sweet spot at the back of your throat.

“Aemond, fuck- can you, can you just come already? I’m dying here,” Aegon snapped through labored breaths.

Aemond, completely composed as if he wasn’t currently shoving his cock down your throat, spoke without stopping, “who said you had to wait for me, brother?”

Aegon groaned as his grip on your hips tightened. Jacaerys lay beneath you, still inside of you, simply enjoying the sight of you wrecked.

“I’m not going to finish before you, she finishes with me,” Aegon said.

Jacaerys placed his arms behind his head and watched in amusement as a small bulge appeared where your chin met your throat with every thrust from Aemond.

You forced yourself off of Aemond’s cock with a pop to say, “are you two seriously arguing right now?”

Aemond just shrugged. You turned back to look at Aegon, and his resolve broke. Seeing the look in your eyes as you gazed back to him, his cock in your ass, was enough for him to quickly unsheath his cock and release all over your back.

The moment Aegon pulled out of you, Aemond grabbed your arms and pulled you closer, which pulled you off of Jacaerys’s cock. He wanted you to kneel, but he did not want to hurt you by having you sit.

You remained bent over as you began to suck his cock again, this time bobbing your head and assisting in the work. Aemond threw his head back, and you admired the way his toned stomach flexed when his hips jutted forward.

You ran your tongue along the underside of his cock, swirling it around his tip as his thrusts continued. You looked up at him, teary-eyed and fucked out, and the sight was prettier than he could imagine.

“Don’t look up at me,” Aemond said, “or else I’m going to come down your throat.”

If your lips weren’t around him, you would have grinned. You didn’t break eye contact as you moved your head faster, and Aemond gripped your hair.

“I said don’t look up at me.”

You released from his cock, only momentarily, to say, “after all this time, you’d think you’d know that I don’t take orders from you.”

You went back to sucking and licking at his cock, staring into his eye as his cock twitched and swelled until he released into your mouth.

You remained in place until you were confident that he was completely finished. You pulled off of him and showed him your clean tongue.

He could not help it- he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your lips. “You’re my only equal, you know.”

“How sentimental,” you teased.

You rolled over and laid down on your back. The sheets felt soothing and comfortable beneath your aching, naked form.

“You alright?” Jacaerys checked in.

You simply smiled, looked to the ceiling, and began to uncontrollably giggle.

“Y/N?”

“Mhm?” you stopped laughing to hum.

“What now?” Aegon asked.

You shrugged and continued to smile as you caught your breath.

────── ☾ ──────

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[desideriumwriter]

Anyone But You | Chapter 16

Summary: You really shouldn't have gone to Lee's party, you shouldn't have drank so much, you shouldn't have let your jealously take over, you shouldn't have let Fred see you at all that night.

WC: 1.9k

A/N: short but messy as HELL, sorry yall

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Going to that party was a mistake, you knew it the second you walked through the doorway. You knew it the moment Alicia walked in, followed by a tall ginger boy. You knew it when the alcohol on the kitchen island began to feel like comfort.

Yet, you told yourself you weren’t going to let Fred’s presence ruin your night, like you had let it ruin your mood for years.

It wasn’t just Fred’s presence that was ruining it. It was the fact that Fred showed up to the party with someone. Another girl. A date. 

You had no idea if Alicia and Fred were together, you had no idea what their relationship status was. But whatever thing they seemed to have going on, it put a weird feeling in your stomach. An uneasy one.

It was that same feeling of envy that you had when you saw him and Angelina at the Yule Ball, the feeling that you tried to convince yourself it was caused by the envy of Fred having someone to take to the ball, and not the envy of someone having Fred.

That feeling would go ignored by you, pushed away and buried along with all the other intruding feelings Fred had made you feel.

After seeing them enter, you made it your mission to keep as far away from them as you could. 

You stayed with Angelina and Katie, drank, made awkward small talk, sat outside, talked to a random group of Hufflepuff kids outside, stood around, drank some more.

You were honestly quite content, maybe a little awkward, but you weren't completely miserable. The night had been going pretty good, there hadn’t been any issues at all. Yet.

Of course, until you split off from Angelina and Katie again. They both needed to use the bathroom and you promised you’d save their seats on the couch you were all sitting together on.

Angelina and Katie leaned against the hallway wall, stuck in the line of people that nearly wrapped around the corner.

“How long does it take for someone to piss, wash their hands, and go?”  Katie groaned, looking up and letting her head hit the wall. 

“Why don’t we just go to the bathroom upstairs?” Angelina suggested.

“Last I heard, a couple was getting busy in there.” Katie fake gagged and Angelina grimaced, her dramatic expression fell as she tilted her head over, being able to get a slight view of you waiting on the couch. Behind you, Fred and Alicia distanced away from you, talking to each other.

“You think Fred and Alicia actually have something going on?” Angelina said as she stared, Katie lazily looked over.

“Don’t know. I feel bad for Y/N though. She likes Fred, she just won’t admit it.” Katie sighed and shrugged.

“I wish she’d admit it, she says she's learned to tolerate him and George. But you don’t spend that much time thinking about someone unless you actually care about them, or what they’re doing.” Angelina tutted, “Besides, it seemed like Fred had eyes for her, at least for a moment. I don’t understand, Y/N was just starting to warm up to him. Now he’s off with Alicia.” Angelina shook her head disappointedly.

“Just how boys are. They’re always so confusing, always messing around, never truly clear about how they feel.” Katie inhaled, standing up as the line shuffled forward.

“You think they’ll ever get together? Y/N and Fred?” 

“Maybe. If Fred is clear about what he wants. And if she stops being so stubborn.”

Your leg bounced up and down as you waited, smushing yourself into the corner of the hard couch. Looking around the room at all the partygoers before your night was fucked.

A pair of girls that were unknowingly blocking your sight of the other side of the room moved to another spot in the house, revealing what they were covering.

Fred. Alicia. Sitting on the same chair and giggling at each other. Her sitting on his lap in the leather armchair. Her hand playing with a strand of his hair at the back of his neck. Their faces being way too close for comfort.

You could see Freds mouth moving, calling her a cute petname. It made you sick, seeing him use that term of endearment for someone. Someone that wasn’t you.

And that was your cue to leave. You needed to get out of there, away from them. You lost your friends in the sea of people that crowded the house, but you did find the kitchen, the overhead light shining down on the marble slab island covered with various bottles of alcohol and cups.

In that moment, the warmth of the alcohol going down your throat and into your stomach would be the only warmth you were going to get that night.

Then not soon after, you somehow ended up in a drinking challenge. It was between you and a random Ravenclaw boy, seeing which one of you could finish a row of shots quicker. Another attempt at a distraction.

You took shot after shot, slamming the glasses down on the counter as you beat the boy next to you. You were cheered and applauded by party goers surrounding the kitchen counter. The cheering and liquor made you so brave that eventually you picked up a bottle of fire whiskey and drank straight from it. The cheering grew louder.

Fred, of course, followed the noise with a smile, wanting to see which dumb kid was playing a drinking game now. Only to realize you were that dumb kid as he approached the crowd watching you chug down the liquor.

His face dropped as he saw you, his curious smile turning into a worried frown. You made eye contact with him as you put the now-half finished bottle down. 

Grimacing at the taste then smiling spitefully, raising your arms up in the air at the ovation you were getting. You moved your way through the crowd after taking a random beer can with you, giving high fives to other random drunk kids. You just wanted to get away from Fred. Again.

Yet Fred followed, he caught up and grabbed your shoulder, turning you around. You angrily stepped, more of a drunken stumble, away from his touch before taking another drink from your beer.

“Come on, put that down. You shouldn’t have anymore, you’re gonna drink yourself sick.” He said, taking the can from your hands.

“What are you? My fucking caretaker?” You spat at him, trying to take the drink back. He ended up chugging it, so you couldn’t take it back. You gawked at him.

“What the hell?- So I can’t drink but you can? What the hell is your problem?”

“I’m not the one who's going to have a splitting headache in the morning. I’m trying to keep you from making it worse.” He put the can down on a random side table.

“Whatever. Why don't you just leave me alone and go back to flirting with Spinnet?” You rolled your eyes at him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What are- Are you jealous?” Fred narrowed his eyes, sticking his head out at you.

“Oh that’s where we’re going now?” You let out a faux laugh, looking at him in disbelief. You weren’t really sure what made you, but you turned away and wobbled your way down the nearest empty hallway. Wanting to escape from Fred.

But of course, Fred with his long legs followed suit. You made your way into a random master bedroom and tried to slam the door right in his face.

“I’m not gonna have you walk away from the conversation.” Fred said as he pushed open the door, closing it behind him. “What is your problem?”

“What’s my problem? What the fuck is your problem? You go and act like you’re in love with me and then you go off and start messing around with another girl.” You spat out, poking your index finger into his shoulder before crossing your arms.

“Are you seri- You’re the one that kissed me!” Fred exclaimed, face full of confusion.

“Yeah? Well, you kissed me back!” You threw your arms up and turned your back to him. You knew your argument was going nowhere, this was pointless. 

“Well I’m sorry that for a moment I thought there could’ve been some sort of thing between us.”

“You keep- God- I can’t- You are so insufferable!” You shouted at him, the combination of the loudness of your voice and how close the two of you were made Fred flinch.

“Yeah. I could say the same about you.” He let out an angry breath, jaw clenching.

“Oh, fuck you!” You pushed Fred, your blood was hot and the effects of your were beginning to flow through you. 

“You always make me so…” You trailed off, eyes glossy as you stared at him with awe. Why was he always so pretty?

And in what felt like a flash, you were pulling onto his sweater vest and bringing his lips to yours. He grabbed onto the sides of your face and pushed back into the kiss.

It was messy, it was sloppy, it lasted longer than the last time. 

You both pulled back at the same time to finally breathe, your lips swollen and chests taking in deep breaths. His hands were still holding your face while yours were still holding onto his vest.

“What are we doing? What are you doing?” Fred sighed, clearly exhausted. “Why won’t you just admit you love me?”

"I don't want to love you." You swallowed, a shaky breath leaving you. 

"But you do." 

"I don't know if I do."

Fred dropped his hands to his sides, stepping back and leaning against the dresser behind him. He threw his head back, shaking it in disappointment.  Saying nothing, he headed for the door, you stopped him.

“Wait! I- please don’t leave.” You begged, grabbing his hand and pulling.

“Why are you doing this to me?” He drew out, punctuating the sentence using your name. “I don’t understand. You spend years hating my guts. You kiss me then you run away, you come back and want to be friends,” He paused, taking a second to rub a hand down his face. 

“Then you get mad when i’m hanging around another girl, you kiss me again and say you don’t want to love me, then beg me to stay? I don’t understand you, I really don’t.” He sighed.

I don’t understand myself either. You wished you could say, you stayed silent instead, lip quivering. Guilt burning a hole in your stomach.

“Why can’t you just come to your fucking senses?” He sighed, sounding and looking like a disappointed parent. He mumbled an apology, screwing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“I’m begging for you to make up your mind.” He added, bringing his hands up and then dropping them back at his sides.

You couldn’t say anything, the lump in your throat stopping you. You were clenching your jaw so hard you could break a tooth, trying to fight back any more tears from falling, though you failed. There was no point, you were at a loss. He was right.

“You shouldn’t be crying over me, you're wasting your tears.” Fred muttered as he swiftly walked out the room, shutting the door behind him. 

You let out a loud sob as you sat down on the bed behind you. Crying like a child while you raked your hands in your hair.

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[darksigns-exe]

the night and the light | prologue

a bad omens cyberpunk au

warnings: mentions of violence, guns, blood, scars

word count: 676

Wind rushes through her hair, throwing it back into her face. The city below her rushes along, never stopping its constant, restless movement. It never stops. Night City always moves – never sleeps. She watches quietly as it continues to writhe like a worm. Sometimes she wonders how she manages to keep up with it at all, or if she even does. 

The past year seems so inconsequential now that it lays behind her. In the grand scheme of things, nothing much has changed. She’s grown a year older, learned a thing or two, but apart from that, she doesn’t feel too different. Maybe she’d grown a little more resentful of the noise and the dirt below. 

So many lives had been lost, uselessly thrown into the aether, and sometimes she wonders if it had even been worth it. There had been so much death and destruction in their wake, so many lives that didn’t need to end yet. Sometimes she can still see the blood on her hands. But in the harsh neon lights of the city it quickly vanishes again. There’s always something, something more exciting, a new advertisement, a new face. Something always happens, and her mind just can’t stand still anymore. 

A set of arms wraps around her middle. She doesn’t need to look to know who they belong to. The coloured lines of ink and scar that line his skin make him so easy to identify. His chin comes to rest against her shoulder, and she knows what he’s going to say before he even opens his mouth. 

We could just leave, you know.

And she isn’t surprised when he says those exact words. 

He gets these wistful moods every now and again. But they both know that they’ll never leave Night City. 

No one does – not forever, at least. 

The second they’ll leave the noise and the crowds behind, and they’re alone, everything will change. And that terrifies her. She doesn’t quiet know how to be a person without the lights around her, and she doesn’t know how they’ll be when there’s nothing around them to distract them from the glaring issues they both have. 

But maybe that’s exactly what they need right now. 

She lets her head drop back against his chest. She’s never felt safe in these streets, not until she’d met him. And even then, it had taken her some time until she had felt safe around him. 

“We could all just pack up and leave. Go somewhere else.” he continues, voice still soft and gentle, “One of these gigs will be the last. One way or another.” 

She knows that he’s right. 

One of these days, a bullet will hit one of them and there won’t be anything that can be done about it. There’s a solid chance that it won’t even happen on a gig. She’s witnessed enough people falling victim to stray bullets. 

Sirens blare below as gunshots tear through the white noise of the city. She hasn’t flinched at the sounds in years. 

She does now. 

Instinctively, his arms tighten around her middle. Not to restrain, but to safeguard. He’s warm, comforting, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. That cold, hard shell has been started to show cracks. He’s not growing soft, no, it’s something else, something she doesn’t want to admit to herself yet. 

She feels content here when he holds her like this. 

But there has to be more to it all, right? More than just being content with how the world is. 

More than being content with being who she is. 

There’s a whole world outside of this city, and she has barely dared to venture outside of its borders. Perhaps it is time to peek past the edge of his proverbial plate. A year ago, she would have questioned her sanity for even thinking that, but now it feels as if her eyes are truly open for the first time. 

She leans further against him, and his embrace somehow grows just a little tighter. 

“Maybe we should.” 

maybe. 

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[samgirl98]

Wail of the Silent 12/?

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Danny followed Jason. He didn’t want to face Batman and Nightwing but knew they wouldn’t leave without talking to Jason first.

“We could always fly away if you want,” Danny offered. Jason shook his head. Running away wasn’t an option; they would hunt him down. Bruce would most likely involve the whole Batfamily, and they would go after Danny. Jason didn’t want to inconvenience the other man that way. Besides, it would be hard to hide with Oracle at their side. Jason took Danny’s hand and led the way instead. Jason could feel his heart rate picking up the closer he reached his destination.

Dick was alone in the living room. Bruce was nowhere to be found, and the tension he had been holding eased somewhat.

Dick looked at Jason’s scar, mask off, with hurt and, most infuriating, pity in his eyes.

‘Stop that,’ he signed.

“Stop what, little wing?”

‘Stop looking at me like some pity case,’ he signed furiously.

“Jason,” Dick started. Jason interrupted him.

‘Where’s the old man?’

Dick’s cheek ticked in anger, “I sent him away. He doesn’t deserve to be around you. Around any of us.”

Jason gave a soundless hum and then sat on his couch. Danny sat right beside him.

‘What do you want, Dick?’

“I want to make sure you’re fine. I saw the footage; you had a gun to your head.”

‘Well, as you can see, I’m fine and dandy. You can leave now.’

“Jason,” Dick started. Jason hit the table with an open hand.

‘I’m serious. Leave me alone and let me lick my wounds.’

Dick’s eyes landed on Danny, “But you won’t be alone, will you? Who are you, and what do you want with my little brother?”

‘Seriously? I’m a big boy, Dickhead. I can date whoever I want!’

Dick ignored him and kept staring Danny down. It angered Jason. His feeling mattered, dammit! Why did his family never consider that? If it wasn’t hounding his every step, it was trying to get Jason to talk to Bruce. The only good thing about Dick knowing what Bruce did to him was that he wouldn’t force a relationship with Jason and Bruce. At least, he hoped.

 Suddenly, Jason felt tired, and he slumped on Danny without warning.

Both Dick and Danny yelled out in concern. Thankfully, Danny was big and strong enough to hold on to Jason because even though they were sitting, Jason couldn’t keep his weight up.

“Jason, what’s wrong?”

Danny didn’t have to speak; his core hummed with concern.

Dick didn’t seem to be able to hear the humming, but Jason saw how his brother tensed the moment Danny’s core started humming. For a fleeting second, Jason wondered what Dick felt.

Jason’s core hummed back.

Tired, tired, so tired.

Rest, I’ll take care of it, rest.

Jason closed his eyes and fell into the dark embrace of unconsciousness.

____

Dick gave another shout when his brother’s eyes closed.

“Jason, Jason!”

“Leave him alone, he’s tired. Let him rest,” the other man, whose name Dick still didn’t know, said. He ran his hand through Jason’s hair and looked down at Jason with soft eyes. Dick didn’t trust him.

“Who are you? What do you want with Jason?”

“Name’s Danny. I’m here hunting for the bitch who likes to drive people to suicide and lock her up again.”

Dick crossed his arms.

“What are you doing with my little brother?”

“Helping him.”

Dick growled, “How are you helping him?”

The man shrugged. Dick wanted to take out his Escrima sticks and hit the man over the head until he got a straight answer.

Suddenly, that strange, eerie feeling he had felt earlier came back. It made the hair on his arms stand up and gave him goosebumps. Somehow, Danny was causing a fear response without doing anything.

“You’re a metahuman.”

“No, I’m dead, it’s a medical condition.”

Dick saw Danny’s pink cheeks and moving chest and wondered what kind of joke that was.

Dick took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He gazed at Jason’s slumped figure and felt a tightening in his chest. He had failed to protect his younger brother not once but twice, and one of those times was from their father. He felt like a failure as an older brother.

“Dude, those emotions you’re feeling, that’s a buffet to Spectra. I suggest you stop with the pity party and sit down unless you want to be her next victim.”

Dick sat on the coffee table right in front of Danny and Jason. He put two fingers on Jason’s pulse point. It was strong and steady. Dick let go of a breath he was holding in. They stayed silent for a while, Jason’s soft breath the only thing filling the room.

“Who’s Spectra? What does she want?”

“A ghost. One that wants only one thing: misery.”

Dick took out the green ray gun he had found at Arkham and showed it to Danny.

“Mind telling me a bit more,” he asked while giving Danny the gun. After all, he had to find a way to protect his brother.

___

Bruce ignored the calls he received from his family and returned to Arkham to find more clues. He had found some green goo that reminded him of the Lazarus Pits but nothing more. The notes Penelope had written were pretty run-of-the-mill at first glance until one looked deeper.

The notes were full of pages of her patients’ insecurities and how to exploit them.

He took photos of them and returned everything as they were supposed to be.

Whoever this Penelope Spectra was, she was dangerous. Worse, she had threatened his son, and she had to be stopped. Bruce got into the Batmobile and went to one of his safehouses like a coward.

While the Batcomputer was better for analyzing, he didn’t want to deal with Alfred’s ire and his children’s disappointment. He had a case to close, a son to protect. Then, he could deal with making amends with his family.

He could make things right for Jason.

[agirlwithdemonblood]

Smoke and Storms

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Summary: After crossing a line in their relationship, Dean struggles to express his feelings, hiding behind bad metaphors and fear of losing the person he loves most. But when Y/N finally pushes him to be honest, they both realize that some things—like love—are inevitable.

Warnings: Angst, sadDean!

Check out my Masterlist here!

"You're not listening!"

I huffed, pressing my back against the cool concrete wall, staring back at the older Winchester. "No, I'm just not understanding what you're trying to say!"

Dean pushed off the wall, running a hand through his hair before standing in front of me. "I—I’m not good at explaining, using my words."

I frowned at his vulnerability. I wanted to understand—I really did—but he was making no sense, and it was frustrating. He was never like this, never this lost.

An hour ago, he came home from a hunt looking as defeated as he always did when things went sideways. Normally, he’d find me. He’d sneak into my room, wrap his arms around me like I was his anchor, inhaling every bit of comfort I had to offer. And then we’d talk. For hours, sometimes. I always understood him—every sigh, every subtle shift in his tone, every weighted pause.

But last night, everything changed.

We crossed a boundary. We hooked up. He was feeling low, and so was I, and we used each other to feel better. It wasn’t just comfort; it was something else—something deeper, something unspoken. I thought it was everything we had ever wanted.

Until tonight.

Until I reached for him, and he moved my hands off his shoulders. Until he walked away from me like none of it happened.

Maybe I should’ve given him space, but he was my best friend. For three years, it had been us—always us. We promised nothing would change, that no matter what happened, our friendship wouldn’t break.

But now he was acting stranger than usual, dodging my touch, throwing up walls, speaking in circles. And worse, he wasn’t making sense. Dean Winchester was using metaphors.

And not just any metaphors—bad ones.

"It’s like—I don’t know—it’s like trying to hold onto smoke. The second I think I have it, it slips right through my fingers."

I blinked. "What?"

He exhaled sharply, pacing. "Or—or like driving a car with no brakes. You know you're headed straight for a wreck, but you can't stop."

I raised a brow. "Dean—"

"Or like—damn it, Y/N, it’s like standing in the ocean during a storm. The waves keep hitting, pulling you under, and just when you think you're okay, another one knocks you down."

I opened my mouth, then closed it. "So... I’m the storm? Or the car crash? Or—?"

He groaned, rubbing his hands down his face. "See? This is why I don’t do words."

I sighed, crossing my arms. "Then just say what you mean. Stop hiding behind half-baked metaphors and talk to me."

He went quiet, leaning against the wall, his gaze fixed on the cracks in the floor. "I just... maybe we are inevitable, and I can't stop it. I can't protect you."

The words lingered between us, heavy and unspoken. But I still didn’t understand.

And that’s what scared me. Because I had never been confused around Dean.

Now? I felt like I was losing him.

A sigh escaped his lips before he turned and walked away, leaving the air cold and lonely in his wake.

That must’ve been my answer.

I swallowed hard, forcing back the tears threatening to spill as I rushed to my room. This was it. This was the end. My worst nightmare come true.

It took an hour to calm down. An hour to silence the voices screaming in my head, telling me I had lost him for good.

And it also took an hour for Dean to finally come back.

The soft sound of his knuckles against my door made me turn. He looked just like I did—lost, confused, sad, scared.

Without a word, I lifted the blanket, letting him slip inside. He stripped off his shirt and jeans before climbing in next to me, sharing my warmth.

The silence stretched on—too long—but finally, he spoke, voice thick with regret.

"I know I wasn't making any sense. I'm not good at expressing myself."

I reached up, stroking his cheek, letting him process. Maybe patience was what he needed all along.

His green eyes met mine, filled with sadness. "I thought last night was a big step for us. When I woke up with you in my arms, I was happy. Excited. But then I got scared because..."

He hesitated, and I wouldn't allow it. Not when he was so close to making me understand.

"Go on," I whispered, no judgment in my voice.

He swallowed hard. "I've never felt the way I do, and it scares me. I don’t know what it is or what it means."

"How do you feel?"

He hesitated again, his hands trembling against my stomach, his eyes darting. He was terrified—to speak, to get it wrong. And I was terrified to hear it.

"I—I felt... I don’t know."

I scooted closer, wrapping my arms tightly around him. "Dean, it’s me. You can tell me anything."

His hand came to my cheek, thumb brushing my skin like he needed the contact to keep himself grounded. "I felt like my heart was full. When I got up to shower, I missed you. I felt like I needed to be back in bed with you or I was going to die. And the entire hunt—I couldn’t stop thinking about you. This was different. It wasn’t just a hookup. It wasn’t just some drunk dare. It felt..."

"It felt like love," I finished for him.

He nodded slowly, finally understanding himself. And suddenly, so did I.

He wasn’t pushing me away because he didn’t want this. He was pushing me away because he did. Because he was scared.

"Dean, look at me."

It took a moment, but when he did, his eyes shone with unshed tears.

"You’re right," I said softly. "It did feel like love. And we are inevitable. No matter how hard you try to fight it, no matter how much it scares you, we are meant to be, I can feel that. You can feel that. That doesn’t mean you can’t protect me. It just means you’re more afraid of losing me. And I get it. I’m afraid, too."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly. "I don’t... I don’t want to be scared. I don’t want to feel this way."

"Then we stop."

His eyes widened, sitting up slightly. "What?"

"We stop. We mark this as a mistake, and we move on. We’ll always be best friends, but maybe we can’t do the relationship part."

I didn’t mean it. But I needed him to see that losing me was far scarier than loving me.

His grip tightened on my arm. "W-Wait..."

I smiled sadly. "I’m waiting. But I need to know what you want."

Silence. And then—

"I don’t want that."

I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "Me neither."

He exhaled shakily. "What do we do?"

I shrugged, snuggling back into him. "What we’ve always done. We’re there for each other. Just because this became something more doesn’t mean anything’s changed. You’re still my best friend. I still love you—just in a different way now."

His arms tightened around me, lips pressing to my forehead. "I love you, too... I think I can do that. Go back to normal."

I smiled. "Good. You scared me there, Winchester. I thought I lost you."

He chuckled, pulling me close. "Maybe a bit, but you always know how to find me."

A slow grin spread across my face. "You know, for a guy who claims he isn’t good with words, you sure know how to make a mess with them."

He groaned, burying his face in my shoulder. "Yeah, yeah. My metaphors suck."

I laughed, running my fingers through his hair. "Oh, they’re awful. Smoke? Storms? A brake-less car? What even was that?"

He chuckled, his breath warm against my skin. "Shut up. You knew what I meant."

"Mmm, debatable. But next time? Just say 'I love you' and spare us both the headache."

He pulled back just enough to look at me, a smirk playing on his lips. "Fine. I love you."

I grinned. "See? So much easier."

He chuckled again, pulling me tighter against him. "Yeah, yeah. Just don’t expect me to be all poetic about it."

I smirked, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "Wouldn’t dream of it, Winchester."

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!

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[erodasfishtacos]

Let's Be Alone Together - Trucker!H Prt II

prompt: harry doesnt understand why he asked her to travel with him, why he cares, or why he seems so drawn to a girl who cant stop apologizing and is too kind for her own good.

word count: 3.8k words

warnings: depression, suicidal ideation, lack of resources (food), childhood trauma - this is not a light-hearted read so use caution for yourselves!

author's note:

the first part was posted on tumblr here

there are currently eight more installments of this up on my patreon and still being posted

I upload a piece of writing every 1-2 days.

I recently started a second tier called The OG Tier where 2

one shots (1-4kish) are posted a week.

There are currently 350 + pieces available to read

Tier I - $3 USD where you get access to main stories, everything except the mini one shots.

Tier II - $5 USD where you get access to every piece of writing!

you can check it out here

---

YN had laid back down in his bed after they had settled that she would go with him, that neither of them were attached to anyone else in any way, and all this was a bit of company - nothing more, nothing less.

Harry tried to keep his mind blank as he watched the road ahead of him.

It was a slippery slope that typically never led to happy thoughts when he lets himself be alone with them for too long at once.

They would creep in, like slow-cresting waves, and then hit him with the impact of a tsunami.

His body moved in practice, subconscious motions as he shifted gears with ease, flicking the windshield wipers up a notch because this weather was brutal and unrelenting.

Normally, Harry wasn’t concerned about such treacherous conditions where the roads were a sheet of white, snow flurrying rapidly and thick enough the clog the wind streams to make it nearly blinding.

He sickeningly enough enjoyed it because of the risk.

The higher possibility of death.

It was because what was the worst that could happen?

His truck could veer off the road.?

Hydroplane off the asphalt, hitting him into a guardrail, flipping it over until he’s falling down the steep embankment?

He would never want that to happen, only for Birdie’s sake, but if she wasn’t a factor then his answer would be different, most days.

 Harry hated to admit that there were more days than not that he thought about how much he wouldn’t mind such a thing to happen to him.

His life had never been easy, it’s why he fled his home when he was sixteen, lied about his age, and had a rough-around-the-edges older man who had hired him for some odd jobs around his mechanics shop taught him everything he needed to know about driving a semi-truck.

And as soon as he could get his commercial license, he found a job that had him driving a truck from one end of the states to the other to deliver furniture from a custom brand out of Canada.

He didn’t mind the job, except for when he was granted his time off.

It was three weeks on, two off, and for people with families, children, it was rigorous schedule but they looked forward to having the extended time to relax at home before another three weeks took them away.

Harry didn’t know what to do with himself for that two weeks.

His bosses had looked at him like he was insane when he asked if he could just not take those two weeks off.

The first time, he came back to his hometown because he didn’t know where else to go, and it hadn’t ended well - he gave his mother too many chances and it resulted in him heading back out onto the road with twelve hundred less dollars in his wallet.

He never went back, left all of his belongings at his childhood home, changed his number so that his mother couldn’t get a hold of him, and cooped up in extended stay hotels wherever he landed for those two weeks.

Occasionally, he would meet a cute girl at the local bar or a waitress at the diner who he would spend a night with.

He really wasn't a one-night-stand guy or just a casual hookup either, but he sought out those women when the thoughts got dark, when the loneliness seemed overwhelming, and he really wasn't seeking out sex as much as he was comfort and intimacy even if just for a few hours.

He never felt enough of a connection with any of them to visit on his next off-time, even if he had promised it a few times to smooth over the hurt he had caused by crushing their hopes of a relationship.

His work paid for his meals during his weeks on, he stayed in cheap hotels, and didn’t spend money on anything except necessities that his company card didn’t cover which led to quite a hefty sum in his bank account.

Enough that he could purchase on his own semi-truck, used and beat to shit, breaking down every couple thousand miles and causing more financial burden than it was worth, but it helped him start his own business.

He had his own transport company now, just his truck and him, nothing fancy or overly complicated.

He could pick and choose his work, always picking the highest paid contracts, and it really made him successful.

Enough so that he could purchase a new, top-of-the-line semi which he reasoned was the best investment because not only was he purchasing his work truck but his home as he would be living out of it.

Ever since he started his own company, with no off time because he had contracts lined up to fulfill for the next year, and then some that never gave him a break - just like he wanted, no time to get too lost in his own miserable shit that he preferred to suppress. 

No time off meant no life.

Harry hadn’t chatted anyone up at the bar, hell, he can’t remember the last time that he was even in one.

He can’t remember the last time he had sex either.

At some point, the company of a woman didn't quell those thoughts.

Sex workers knocked on his cabin door quite frequently, his flashy truck drew their attention with the hopes that he would be a generous tipper, but he always shooed them off.

He would be extra pissed if they woke him.

At some point between his first job and now, his depression had worsened to a deeper state than it had ever been in his life.

Life was a routine, monotonous and never-changing, miserable and defeating.

Harry convinced himself he didn’t need people, he only needed the open road and his dog, and that would be enough to suffice.

It was…

Somedays.

But other days (most of them), Harry found this sense of hopelessness, the weird in between where he wouldn’t do anything to end his life, but he wasn’t going to go kicking and screaming if it happened.

This world wasn’t made for him, he had told himself a long time ago.

It was destined to be a path of unhappiness from the moment he was born to the woman his mother was.

Happiness, prosperity, excitement towards life had never been an option when the woman who raised him rejected it all.

Harry couldn’t possibly start to consider his own behaviors of inviting this girl on a five-day trip with him around the country.

He was just being nice, is what he’ll tell himself because he’s fine being alone, really, he is.

It’s been this way for years; this was certainly just a blimp before his life becomes routine again.

++

Birdie is always sleeping in the passenger seat during the day.

It was weird to look to the side to see the seat empty, the expensive leather worn from the amount of time her lazy ass slept there.

However, Birdie was back with YN, tucked into her like they were the best of friends, and Harry never existed.

Traitor.

Acting as if Harry hadn't nursed her back to health when she was a puppy, too young to be away from her mother, and completely reliant on Harry to survive.

Could fool him.

Harry didn’t even want to acknowledge that Birdie has never taken to another person, ever, like she had with their visitor.

YN must have not slept well for weeks at this point, obvious by the dark circle under her eyes that had been covered with thick concealer when they’d first met.

YN didn't stir from his bed until nearly five in the evening, he had kept the blinds down, and the black-out curtains drawn so that no light was seeping in to disturb her as she slept, making up for lost time.

When YN finally does wake up, after using the bathroom, she pads up to the front of the cabin, and sits in the passenger seat, legs crossed and tucked under her as she glances out the windshield at the snowy mountains ahead of them.

Harry looks over at her, his eyes accidentally falling on her chest before they’re darting back up to her face - she wasn’t looking at him anyways but the henley she was wearing wasn’t the thickest and the pebbling of her nipples was obvious.

“Sleep alright?” Harry asks, eyes already back on the road, with this weather he didn’t have the luxury of not being vigilant.

“Yes, thank you,” YN replies as she curls her legs up, wrapping her arms around her knees, and resting her chin on her kneecaps.

Harry just nods, he’s not good at conversation, at one point he was but that was a skill he wasn’t familiar with anymore.

The extent of his communication was over the radio, letting other truckers know that they’re driving like assholes or the customers he had contracts with - that was really it.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, it’s comfortable for Harry but he can tell by the way that YN keeps looking over at him and then out the window, that it wasn’t the same for her as the only noise filtering in was the engine.

“Why don’t you have a home to go back to?” YN’s voice breaks the quiet, her voice is unsure because what were they supposed to being doing on this trip together?

Was YN supposed to keep him company by conversation since her purpose to come wasn’t sex.

Or did Harry just want the physical company?

Just a body in the seat, nothing more than that.

“Why don’t you?” Harry replies in a terse tone, it was defensive because he didn’t talk about his past, to anyone, fucking ever.

He felt emotion when he thought about what his home used to be.

It trudges up anger, helplessness, desperation.

All things that his depression helped him ignore.

He isn’t an open book, the most binded close, lock-protected type because he wasn’t going to share anything that made him vulnerable, weak, and the only thing that got him to the point was recalling what a shitty childhood he had.

Shitty was an understatement.

Harry feels instant regret for his choice of words when YN flinches at his response back, arms coming to wrap around her knees a bit tighter, and that has him cursing himself out in his mind.

He didn’t want YN to be scared of him, he could tell she was already a jumpy thing which most likely came with the required hypervigilance of the work that she does, and he doesn’t want her to have to feel that way with him.

“I’m sorry,” YN apologizes, a nervousness in her voice as she positions her body more towards the door, and away from him.

Fuck.

Harry doesn’t reply because he doesn’t know how to say ‘sorry’ without showing emotion.

As he never did before, vulnerability was his worst fear, and he was going to do anything and everything possible to never show it.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you,” Harry says instead, glancing over at her but she’s looking out the window, head now resting on the cold glass.

“It’s fine, I’m used to it,” YN dismisses easily, not turning to look back over at him.

And she didn’t say it in a way that she wanted sympathy or that anything like that.

Her voice was kind and forgiving, understanding which just shows how beat down she is.

Tired enough to just accept others' behaviors because that’s easier than fighting, accepting how people talked to her because she was so used to it that it didn’t seem like anything special when they did.

And God, that made Harry feel like absolute and utter shit.

He didn’t know YN, no, but he had a feeling that she really was a sweet girl under all the anxiousness and turmoil, and didn’t deserve that treatment from anyone.

Harry doesn’t want YN to feel like she has to get used to him treating her the same way that others have but they only have a few days together.

Why did this bother Harry so much when in the grand scheme of things, their time together was so limited that he shouldn’t care like he does, and he’ll continue to lie to himself - to chalk it up to a lame excuse.

Instead of apologizing, his voice is probably still too gruff when he responds, “You shouldn’t be used to shit like that. You need to stand up for yourself, not let people walk all over you. S’not right.”

YN picks at a loose thread of the pajamas pants she’s wearing, “I shouldn’t have asked, it’s my fault. I get why you said that.”

Harry hasn’t registered guilt as an emotion he’s had for a very long time, it hasn’t been a necessity, and it’s not YN’s fault that it's pounding inside his skull right now.

There’s something about how understanding she’s being, kind and giving him every opportunity to act like it never happened, and she deserves to be treated nicer - nicer than he was treating her too.

“S’not your fault,” Harry shakes his head, his fingers knuckling the steering wheel a bit harder because going from zero to a hundred of getting his feelings back wasn’t an easy thing to try to sift through - it was overwhelming, and he didn’t know why it was happening.

YN doesn’t say anything else, props her chin back on her knees after a while and watches the open road, her eyes trailing over the snow-capped mountain tops, to the wildlife they would occasionally see off in the plateaus. 

Harry finds himself wanting to talk.

He wants to know more about her, but he can’t do that when he just shut her out.

“You can go nap again, if you want. It’s going to be at least another hour before we’ll stop,” Harry tries to keep his voice more friendly, but it just comes out flat, monotone, bored.

YN had been leaning down to scratch behind Birdie’s ear, lounging right at her feet on the floor, perpetually dozing off - “I won’t sleep tonight if I do. If I’m bothering you, I can go back there.”

She slips her feet out from underneath her, standing up with the intention to get out of Harry’s space.

“No, that’s-” Harry cuts off when he realizes he had wrapped his fingers around her wrist to stop her, light with no real intention to stop her actions.

They both look down but Harry’s dropping his hold on her, continuing where he left off without acknowledging the touch, “That’s not what I meant. I just know this can be boring. I didn’t want you to feel obligated to feel like you had to sit up here with me.”

YN doesn’t seem alarmed or angered by the touch, she didn’t try to rip from his hold or shake him off, her body language was as calm as it had been before.

It was a relief because Harry was starting to have a sense of anxiety that YN  might be scared of him or intimidating, and he knew he came off…strong, unapproachable, unfriendly is just a few ways to describe him.

However, his intention is never to make her feel fear or concern about her safety around him.

His goal in these past twenty-four hours has become the exact opposite, an intense urge to protect her, even though he doesn’t know her or what she’s been through.

“I like sitting up here with you,” YN tells him shyly, her eyes darting away from him as she moves to sit back down in the passenger chair.

It had been a miracle that Birdie hadn’t snagged it in the short amount of time that YN had been out of it.

Harry’s chest warms at the admission, but he doesn’t let it show.

Of course he doesn’t.

Fuck, she’s pretty and Harry has to look back at the road because he could just stare, admire, and try to memorize her features because each time he gets a good look, he feels like he discovers something new about her.

He doesn’t say anything back, only leans over to turn up the heat a bit when he realizes that she has goosebumps on her arms, and she smiles to herself at that - almost like she doesn’t realize that she did.

And that anger floods in because all he did was turn the fucking heat up for her and apparently that gesture, that miniscule gesture, was enough to cause her to smile which make Harry wonder what the fuck she had gone through in her life.

Harry likes her smile, he thinks that he’d like to see it more often, and that thoughts are scary to him - all of this is more terrifying than it should be because his mind was becoming occupied with her.

So much so that he hadn’t thought much about his depression, his lowness, that dank place he tries to keep his mind out of at all today when normally it’s the only thing that is circulating in his mind.

++

Harry had been very spot on when he predicted that they would hit the next town in just a little of the hour.

He hadn’t eaten yet today and with a realization that he didn’t think that YN had either.

“Did you eat anything?” Harry asks with a frown, he knows that he startles YN a bit because they hadn’t spoken in that hour, and they probably would have if Harry had shut down the initial attempt at conversation, “At all today?”

“Not yet,” YN tells him as she sits up, stretching her arms above her head.

Harry knows to keep his eyes up because even out of his peripheral vision, he can see the flash of her smooth belly as the shirt rising just the slightest, and since when did he find his eyes wandering to that of any woman before?

It seemed that every inch of her body was of interest to him.

And even though that sounds bad, it truly wasn’t in a predatory or sexual way, it was more of an awe, admiration to how beautiful she was, and how perfectly she was crafted albeit much too skinny.

He can see the outline of her ribcage when she stretches, not enough fat on her bones to disguise them at all, her hip bones more prominent than they should be, and all of this a clear indication that she wasn’t eating enough.

And was Harry the person to talk to?

No, not really.

He was skinnier than he should be too.

Depression sucked the appetite from him, but he did enough to keep his muscles, even if his ribs are showing more than his abdominal muscles at this point but it was hard to have any motivation to care about his appearance that much. 

“Aren’t you hungry?” Harry doesn’t mean for it to come out as accusatory as it did, he really needed to work on his tone.

YN pulls at the hem of her shirt, almost like she realized that Harry noticed how skin and bones she was under her clothes, “I am but I also learned how to cope with the hunger pains when I get them. I try to save my money to eat when it gets to that point, where it hurts.”

Harry doesn’t like that one fucking bit.

“You’re not going to do that bullshit when you’re with me, you got it?” Harry huffs, letting his irritation show and he doesn’t know how it translates - whether she gets that it is because it concerns him or that she thinks that he just finds her annoying.

It’s a tossup at this point.

“You’re going to eat when you’re hungry, no stomach pains, none of that shit,” Harry meets her eye, facial expressions firm to show that he means it.

“I’m sorry,” YN apologizes again, eyes wider and remorseful, “I’ll eat.”

Harry wishes he had the words to tell her not to apologize, to explain his behavior, and that it was all with good intent.

He wasn’t yelling at her, but he was concerned.

Instead of saying those things, he just grunts out, “Good.”

“Did you eat?” YN asks in return, not throwing it in his face but genuine concern in her words.

Harry holds up his coffee cup, “This is my fuel.”

“But…you have money to eat?” 

The confusion knits her brow in a way that shouldn’t be as cute as it is.

“Yeah, m’just not hungry a lot of the times,” Harry shrugs, it’s not a lie.

YN’s lip twist at the side, thoughtful as she reties the knot of the pajama pants, too big and slipping down her hips, her voice quiet like if Harry hadn’t really been listening, he wouldn’t have heard it, and she probably wouldn’t have said it again.

“I really love McDonalds.”

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