#knot front t shirt

[tonycries]

Sweetener - C.K.

Synopsis. You, hit by your heat cycle and accidentally calling your best friend over in a daze. Choso Kamo, your utterly sweet best friend - and totally not an aIpha, right? Right?

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! oméga! reader, alpha! Choso, heats, best-friends-to-lovers, pining, creampíes, bréeding, Choso goes FÉRAL, OMÉGAVERSE AU, overstím, knots, MARATHONS, making him cúm blanks, MATÍNG BÍTES, cúmplay, first times (Choso), pússydrúnk Choso, oraI (fem), proposals, p talking, pet names, swéaring. 

Word count. 8.1k

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

“Open up f’me, beautiful.”

Choso Kamo was approximately four seconds away from kicking down your front door and tearing your apartment down in search of you. Or, at least, he would be if he didn’t know how much you’d huff at him afterwards.

Because it’s not everyday that his precious best friend wakes him up at 3AM with a hazy, six-second call. Mumbling nothing but an adorably sleepy “Cho— come over?” 

So what if Choso had instantly thrown on the first t-shirt he saw and broken about seven traffic violations on his motorbike here? 

“Come on, come on-” he’s hissing underneath his breath. Weight shuffling nervously between his two feet, he raps on your door once more. Twice. Thrice. “D-don’t make me use that spare key again.”

It was a half-threat - really, it was. 

But the louder your answering silence grew, the tighter his fingers curled around his own metallic key. Breathing out a low, “I’m- I’m coming in.” And slowly - ever-so-slowly - he’s cracking your door just an inch open before-

Oh. 

Oh. 

It hits Choso like a wave - hard enough to knock him down onto his knees. 

“What-” he’s gasping, heaving. Words tumbling out drunkenly in rasping ahs! that he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t even register the bright, blossoming pain sweeping his knees with the way his lungs felt like they were scorching - and Choso just couldn’t get enough. 

It wasn’t a new candle of yours, and Choso already memorized every one of your perfumes for this to be one. This was just so…carnally sweet. 

He was drinking in every drop, every ounce, every waft of that candied air inside your cozy apartment like he couldn’t breathe if it wasn’t that.

And something in the sugary scent makes Choso twitch. 

Oh, shit. 

Hastily swiping away a translucent mess of drool that’d somehow made its home by the rosy corner of his mouth, he’s straining out once more. For his sanity, more than anything. “Beautiful? Anyone home?”

Still no answer. 

Absolutely nothing. 

It takes him a few more sloppy seconds swimming his melty mind to even consider stumbling back up onto his two unsteady feet. Blinking away the bleary film over his gaze, Choso slams! your door shut with the back of his foot - cutting off the heady perfume from emanating into the corridor. 

Noise complaints from your neighbors be damned - he’ll apologize to them all personally later. 

But right now, something about the way that mysterious essence was all his, his, his scratched at such a dangerously primal itch in his brain. 

Shit- what was he even thinking?

Choso was here for you and only you. 

He’s running a jittery few digits through the sweat-dampened valleys of his hair, tugging in a stinging little pull to try and snap some sense back into him. Clearing the strangled mess in his throat, Choso smacks! his palms against his burning cheeks before calling out once more, “I’ll be coming in–”

Because it’s not as if Choso’s never been in here before - he has. Many, many times, in fact. And during every one of those hangouts you’d made it a point to pout about how he should really “let loose” and treat this home as if it was his own, too. 

Honestly, it was hard to feel anything but comfortable after knowing each other for so long - even despite those embarrassing, mushy feelings that he always drowned in around you. 

But that was a conversation for another time. 

And right now, Choso couldn’t even dream of any “comfort” when every step deeper into the saturated cloud of scent made Choso gulp. Every blink had his eyes watering even more - and his pants- fuck- Choso’s biting down on his rawly worried lower lip, eyes flickering anywhere but where he could feel his achy cock stirring. 

Something about this smell was so…hypnotic. 

And if he didn’t know any better then he’d have sworn he was practically floating down that familiar pathway to your bedroom. Feet padding down anxiously along the mahogany-covered floors, it was becoming so much harder and harder to breathe in the fragrant air without getting fucking addicted.  

Or, Choso swallows, one arm balanced on the wall, the other feeling for his thundering pulse. He probably already was. 

But what if you were sick? What if you needed help? Fuck, if he didn’t live every waking moment dancing along to your heartbeat.

That is, when he hears it. That.

Filtering from inside your bedroom…a moan. ”Ch-Choso–”

.

.

.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

You didn’t know what you were thinking, forgetting to take your monthly dosage of suppressants - you’d blame it on all the time you’d been spending studying for finals with Choso lately, but you’d never put the fault on your sweet best friend like that.

After all, he was a fellow omega like you at the end of the day. Right? 

“Fuck” You’re scrambling to clasp onto a sodden sweatshirt of his on your bed, nose burying into the slightly sunny vanilla scent. You knew it was wrong to think about him this way, you knew it was made even worse considering his second gender. But- but fuck, if he didn’t have your hands slipping and sliding guiltily down towards the slick-lathered spot between your legs. Concentrated puffs of heat stifling from between your lips, “Ch-Choso–”

Honestly, you wanted him so badly you could reach over for your phone and call-

No, no, no, no - your fatigued eyes flick over to the winking clock by your bedside. 3:26AM.

You couldn’t call him over for help now. Choso was so sweet that he’d probably rush over in his pajamas and rack up a fair few tickets on his motorbike. 

Which was why you preferred to spend your heats without his help - it had been that way since you’d both presented back in high school. 

You’d met Choso after your family had moved to the cutest little suburb in Tokyo, stumbling across the tiny boy-next-door with wide honeypool eyes and a chubby hand that waved shyly your way. Even at the wise old age of eight, you remember thinking how he was so pretty. 

Pretty enough that something your health teacher had taught in your last school clanged throughout your mind - this boy was probably an ah…what was the word? Omega. 

A quiet, comfortable understanding - and it wasn’t something that the two of you never quite had to talk about too in-depth. At least, outside of sneaking the answers to pop quizzes on secondary genders, and giggling when another classmate sauntered to school with a garish bitemark on their neck. 

But, often, you wondered whether you’d ever see Choso with that type of mark. 

He never looked at another alpha - not even another omega, or beta, for that matter. You knew that society was stepping towards a more accepting environment for rather “unconventional” pairings - but Choso Kamo seemed well and firmly intent on rejecting every single one of them. 

Instead, staying by your side. Unpaired. 

Even when he followed you all the way to university - two peas in a pod, so tightly intertwined that most wondered whether you two were mated for life. And he never bothered to disagree - but then again, neither did you.

Even when the years treated him well and he grew so tall, so unfairly attractive. All prettily timid smiles, glinting piercings marrying his ears, and dark, droopy eyes tinged with the slightest kiss of dark eyeliner. Rivalling even the most cocky alphas on your entire campus with his sheer stature and ambience. 

Like he was right now. 

Towering at the very edge of your unlatched bedroom door. 

And only one word registers in your mind - alpha. 

Choso - a Choso that was so utterly real and in the flesh - jumps once those startled syllables spill from your mouth. 

Fuck, you didn’t even realize you said that out loud. 

Not until he’s slamming! one massively spayed-out palm by the side of your doorframe. Shattered pieces of wood crumbling beneath him, you’re unabashedly ogling the flex of his curvaceous biceps. Another hand covering the lower half of his handsome face, Choso rasps. He whines, “You called, m-my omega?”

Oh.

Your entire shivering body bolts upright, like you were being electrified with a thousand voltages of bliss that make your drooling cunt gush. Treacly wafts of pheromones clouding out from you all over again - and the look on Choso’s face is just drunk.

Thick lids so heavy that they were practically falling half-closed, it’s as if his entire body was flushed a prespired red. Lips all ruddied and laminated thinly with spit, his teeth were drawn back into such a wild snarl. 

Like he was about to tear something into bits and it might be you.

So…pretty. 

It almost hurts you to dart your eyes away in an urgent glance at your suspiciously open call log - did you…really call him in your haze? Fuck. 

“Y-you’re-” You swallow a few times - and even then, the words don’t come to you. They can’t. Too stuck on what a delicacy your best friend looked all slumped over by your doorway like he was begging for you. Like he’d crawled all his way to you and would do it all over again. “You’re an alpha, Cho?”

As if you had any doubt now. You could smell the sheer power on him, the thrumming strength threatening to rip through that clingy white undershirt of his. So transparently thin that you could still count every ridge of his washboard abs. And his velvety black boxers hung low-

“Shit-” he gulps. “Yes- fuck! Y-you’re an omega?” 

You can only nod. Brows raising when Choso plants another slam right onto your doorframe, indenting all slender lanes of his digits onto it this time. “And is that…mine?”

With a sudden inhalation, you’re snatching behind that sweatshirt of Choso’s that you’d still been holding. Heart thumping - but there was nothing more to say. What could you say?

Turns out, Choso is the first to break. “L-Let me prove it.”

You’re blinking, squeezing your thighs together at the bittersweet throb. You didn’t know what had your honeyed head reeling more - the sudden reveal of Choso’s secondary gender, or his answer. His sheer need. “Prove it?”

Choso’s head hangs low, chestnut bangs covering his greedy gaze, but you could tell that he was looking at you. Really, really looking at you. 

Words dripping with something you’d never heard of before. Hoarse. Tight. “Can I…can I come in, beautiful?”

You know you should say no to letting him inside your nest - you know it. 

But oh, how it looked like it was taking him every shred of will to keep standing there. To not fucking collapse at the way your gooey pheromones have him spellbound. And he likely would have had it not been for your small, trembling answer, “Yes.”

Choso whimpers - if there was ever a singular moment that would have him crawling back from the afterlife just to re-experience all over again, then it would be this. 

When he feels something in the back of his mind switch.

Senses sharpening almost painfully with one step inside your humid bedroom. Two. 

Until Choso’s stalking so languidly towards you like a predator cornering his prey, foot by foot. He takes his dreamy time prowling towards you - all the way up until your flushed best friend is looming across the foot of the bed.

There’s something vicious in his eyes. Something that has him salivating, “Can- can I?”

You’re breathing out, “Y-yes.”

Slow, sultry fingers unfurl out to draw a steady line along your ankle - he walks. Fingers blazing up your twitchy thighs, up your drenched excuse of shorts, up, up, up to smear that delirious line of your dribble. 

“T-tell me what you want, beautiful.” He pecks an innocent kiss on your forehead, then another to your throat - heaving in your perfumed air. “Anything- I’ll give ya hah- anything.”

His words are low. Hot against your face. 

And just about the only thing you can do is slither your unsteady hands down to toy with the hem of your pants. A sight that makes Choso swallow thickly with a rasping grunt. 

“I want you to…” you’re trailing off. Fingers dipping down to where you haven’t been able to satisfy for hours now. Your inner omega yelling - screaming that nothing was enough, but he might just be. “-touch me here, Cho.”

SWAT!

Instantly, you’re letting off a saccharine mewl at the way your hand is being oh-so-rudely thwacked away by one of Choso’s own. The slight sting throbbing - but not as much as your poor cunt is when meeting his digits. 

Sliding just between your cottony shorts- oh? Choso’s heart stutters. No panties? You really are going to be the death of him. He’s lingering a dewy stroke down your teary slit, honeying his ringed fingers in all your slick juices. 

For a second - just a second.

Lightning-fast, Choso’s trailing away with a slew of spatters left behind, and it makes his skin feel ten times hotter. Ten times dirtier in only the best way.

Even more so when those very digits end up slipping easily into Choso’s mouth. One by one.  Eyes trained darkly on yours, his long pinkish tongue ends up lazily lathering up and down up and down up and down every beaded gleam of your juices.

“Y-you’re so-” your voice cracks embarrassingly - pathetically, in a way that makes every copious ounce of blood in his body sprint south. “-filthy.”

Pulling off with a waterlogged pop! Choso’s tongue probes between his two long fingers, smacking his lips open and shut with the sticky dredges. And you swear you catch a whiff of smugness in his scent. Yet, he’s blushing, “All for you- only for you, my girl.”

And you can’t even complain - you can’t even tease him about the way that just another mere touch up against your feverish pussypound has Choso gasping. Eyes crinkling with something like delight and sheer awe.

Because he’s crashing his mouth into yours, suckling on your lips like his favorite berry lolly-

“Sh-shit-” Choso’s rich tone cracks into shattering lilts, and you can hear him laugh against your lips. Laugh. Humorless and crazed - pure desperation bleeding out with every swash of his intoxicating vanilla scent. “Beautiful— you taste even sweeter than in my ngh- dreams, y’know that?”

No, you didn’t - you didn’t even know that Choso dreamed of you in the first place. 

And you don’t get to pay it any mind because before you know it, the swirling edge of his rounded fingertips tuck just past where your puffy folds were pursing in a ready pucker. Cold metal rings making you gasp.

And Choso’s greedily snuffing out the sound with a sinking bite of his sharpened canines into your wobbly bottom lip. Drinking in every noise from his pretty girl. His pretty girl. 

Cratering dimples notching prettily at the ends of his lipbite, he’s practically begging them out with every slow gyration of his fingertips around and around your peaked clit. Tracing over every tiny ridge and sensitive bundle like he was trying to fucking memorize it. “H-has any other- fuck-” Ringing out a thundering growl at the back of his throat that makes your skin coat in tiny goosebumps. “-has any- other- made you feel this good?”

No no no - your inner omega purrs, and you can practically feel yourself groaning lowly at the back of your throat when you pull away. 

Trying - failing, when Choso’s chasing your kiss-bitten lips like he was hooked. Slurring after the syrupy strings of spit that smear the traces of your mouth, he’s meshing his lips in a dramatic smooch. Again. And again. And again and again-

“L-look how wet ya are…” And it wasn’t even a command, but you can’t help lolling your head down to blink at the way his pale wrist was glistening with all your laminated juices. Musing, “Gonna make ya feel so fuckin’ good. So good.”

Two deft fingers pinch your clit. Hard.

“Ah! N-no!” Your spine bends into such a pretty curve off the bed, perfectly in position for Choso to slide his massive palm underneath and massage away your tensely knotted back. Your fingers are trekking up the clamoring hike onto his broad deltoids to feel the droolworthy jolt of his back muscles. Babbling belatedly, “N-no other alpha has made me feel s-so…”

So…what?

Hypnotized? Addicted? Gone?  

But whatever it was, the sight of you being ruined into a few shattered jumbles of limbs is enough to make Choso’s alpha hum. 

Whispering out, “Can I…” And with a steep inhale of the thick surrounding air, he’s gulping. “C-can I-”

Before you’re gracing him with an answer, you’re helping inch those sleep shorts down. Snailing an almost-blasphemous slicked coat that seeps into your skin. He’s twirling his thumb over the remaining excess left behind - not wasting a single drop. 

And it takes only one saturated hit from where your pheromones were the most concentrated - only one shy peak down at your drooling cunt - before Choso can feel his mind shattering. Gasping. 

The top half of his body all but collapsing on top of yours.

It’s not even on purpose the way he flinches at the thick curve of your thumb floating upwards to tenderly glide away the swab of drool that was flooding Choso’s mouth right now. 

His neat brows quirking upwards, heaving chest choppy - you’re so lustily trapped against the bumped-up planes of his pecs. Feeling the rumble of his heated words, “I-I’ve never…” 

Sounding so utterly worn-out already, Choso’s planting a few firm pecks at the corner of your chin. He’d meant for it to reach your lips - but he couldn’t. Too in a trance to even think about it. And as if to make up for it, he’s kissing your neck, the valley of your thighs, your tummy. Every and any inch he hasn’t been blessed with reaching for the past few years. 

Shuffling all the way until he was practically lips to lips with your sloshing pussy, eyeing down directly at the way your sloppy entrance was welcoming him with another fresh bout of clingy slick. Choso heaves in a long breath.

“Been waitin’ a looong time f’you, y’know? Can I make a mess?” Choso’s whining sweetly, greedy gaze still trained firmly downwards. Tenderly rubbing over your glossed-up folds, “Can I m-make you break?” And those grasping begs of his are barely even audible over the sheer squelching resonating from your slobbery pussy. Your jaw falls slack at how they only make Choso nod. “Y-you’re right- s-so right–”

Talking. And before you know it, the filthiest French kiss is being placed right on your cunt. 

He’s not even hesitating, not even easing you into it - because Choso Kamo has waited so long for this. And he was going to have his fill.

“This is what y-you taste like- this good?” Dragging the very pointed tip of his pretty button nose down your plump clit, he’s smushing it in place with a firm kiss at the very edge of your snug hole. “Th-think this cute cunt can take my fuckin’ cock, beautiful?”

So fucking impatient. 

You’re tangling one set of fingers into the stray strands of his hair, bucking up to drag a slow glide down the lower half of his pretty face. 

And, usually, with an alpha you could be expected to be snapped at with a snarling command. An instruction to just stay put. 

But Choso’s only letting his sharp jaw comfy against the silken sheets, head nuzzling drunkenly into your thighs when you’re pushing and pulling him as you please. Leveraging the vice-like grasp on his scalp to drive steady grinds just the way you like it. 

Whining, “Need you so bad, baby–” 

“Yeah- yeah, use me-” Choso snickers around a teasing bite against the fattened edge of one of your pussy lips. Sucking. “R-reach your pretty high on my face, omega- need you to cum all over me till I-I’m dripping.”

Fuck.

Was this really your nervous, sweet best friend? His words were so dirty, as if he didn’t even realize he was saying them. And they almost make you embarrassed. Shying way just an inch-

“Oh- no. No no no-”  His words come buzzing around your clit, and with a final bite of his elongated canines, Choso’s frantic. He’s scrambling. He’s grasping his powerful arms to loop your thighs and dragging you to him like some ragdoll down the protestingly creaky bed. “S’gonna go to waste- can’t- can’t let it.”

And it’s only about then that you’re dredging up the courage to angle your head further downwards - immediately hit with the sinful sight of Choso in heaven between your limp legs. 

His hair a disheveled curtain, eyes narrowed and smudged with eyeliner. Damply bleeding down onto the regal apples of his high cheekbones at the way your meady slick was reaching his blushing cheeks. It masks his coral pink lips, his jaw, his fucking chin. 

So sopping wet that it’s forming a little puddle down below him that Choso could never even imagine being disgusted by. No, in fact, he was disappointed with himself for not lapping it up even sooner. 

Pumpish lips jutting out in a pout, Choso’s pushing away the hair from his eyes sexily. “Wh-why are you runnin’ away- don’t run away, my girl.”

With a slight giggle, you’re veering your scent to tinge with something comforting. And oh, does it do the trick - because Choso’s eyes swoop downwards drunkenly. Almost closed, almost ruined, he’s huffing out a drawled-out mantra of your name, “Lock it.”

“Wh-what?” You’re choking out.

Soft palms massage gently down your legs, wrapping them around the back of his head. “Lock it.”

Oh.

That was a command, and it has your body pulling taut. Every sensory spot all down your skin screaming to obey - yet, this is something you would have done anyway. Ankles tying together, it’s jostling Choso’s hotly open mouth against your pussy so deeply that you wonder whether he doesn’t have to breathe. 

Whether he doesn’t even want to. 

Because your dear best friend looks so satisfied to die right in the heaven between your legs right now. And he would go such an utterly happy man, too. 

Rosy red lips rubbing rawly against your clit, you’re left a puddle of a needy mess when the roughened tastebuds of his tongue swirl in meticulous little circles. Cheeks hollowing as he sucks, your whines can’t even be heard over the most oozy squelches.

“Heheh- she’s talkin’ back ta me-” Choso’s sputtering out peck after peck. In awe. “She’s talking. Th-think she wants ngh- more.”

More. 

More, more, more. 

Choso’s beginning to think that your dripping pussy’s speaking for himself with the way that’s exactly what he wants right now. Teasing the mushy outer lips of your puckered hole with his fat fingerpads, before bullying in. Inside. 

You’re taking him so well - hips careening even further downwards when he’s feeding your greedy cunt with every long inch of his digits. Slow enough that you could count it - just about six, ringed inches all the way to his knuckles. 

Shit- it’s so hot inside, as if your pretty pussy was practically melting around him. Molding to his every shape as Choso’s driveling swirling around in rummaging little stripes down your gummy walls. Slow. Slick. 

Slender cylindrical intrusions that bump up deftly against your battered g-spots. The chilling stretch of his banded metal rings was too much. Your eager cunt is splattering out a pornographic little gush of your sweet, sweet juices all over again at the way he’s teasingly fondling over that magical spot. 

“J-jus’ a little higher, baby–” you’re spewing out. Deprived. 

And oh, Choso’s darkened eyes are practically lighting up. He doesn’t pull away from your bruised clit to answer - not even to breathe before vibrating out a keening, “Here?”

So desperate. 

Even needier than you. 

You’re blinking through large, globular tears that occupy the space behind your lids. Nodding, “A little more- jus- oh!”   

And Choso didn’t need to hear it from your lips. Hell, he didn’t even need to hear it from the way your snug channel was all but milking his fingers dry. Clinging on in a soppy kiss when he’s probing into your g-spot harder. Meaner. Because the way your intoxicating scent changes - concentrating ever-so-slightly makes Choso realize that you’re cumming before even you register it.

Slamming headfirst into your high, you’re plowing out a belated cry of “I- fuck- m’cumming, Cho. M’cumming, m’cumming-”

Sparks of white splinter your vision, and your knees find themselves just wrenching free from the lecherous comforts of the bed - but Choso won’t let you escape so easily. 

No. 

Barely batting an eye, he’s straining his biceps deadlocked around your legs. Pinning you to the bed until you could barely squirm, barely do anything but take his punishing little clashes against your g-spot head-on. Bumping in. Over and over. 

Choso suckles on your clit like his favorite little gummy, stretching and nibbling until you see stars with your orgasm. 

“Don’t run away-” he’s puffing out into your cunt, the very idea of parting with drizzling pussy making him yelp out a pained grunt. “P-please don’t run away- I promised to make a mess. O-one more f’me, beautiful?”

You’re just molten at his touch. Ravenous and overwhelmingly greedy for you as much as you were for him. Something carnal inside you screaming for more-

“H-hear her?” His eyes are drifting closed at the pulpy little noises your cunt mashes on. Dangling ear piercings twinkling when he’s leering even closer to hear. “Tellin’ me she’s gonna give her- hngh- alpha one more.” Fuck, Choso’s features decorate with the most blazing blush at his own words. How embarrassing. “Wontcha use my mouth all over again? I didn’t get fuuuuck- messy ‘nough last time…”

And as if to prove his point, Choso traces a slow glide of his worked tongue across the sloppily wet coating that drips down his lips. Just for a second.

Your veins bubble sensitively with need at the broken whine sounding from the back of Choso’s throat when you drag him even snugger between your legs. Puffs of leaky pheromones driving the two of you wild, making your hips stutter out a slurring pace up and down his face. 

“Th-this pussy is all f’me- isn’t it, my girl? S’all f’me?”

Even sloppier once you battle out a nod.  

Your cunt is extra slobbery because of your heat anyways, but Choso’s making such a mess on purpose. 

Eyes running away to the back of his head, tongue lolling out even messier. He’s planting such dousing draws of saliva, lathering your sweet spots mercilessly. And his fingers- oh, his fingers were relentless. Shovelling up in solid, wet nudges until you’re able to feel every circular indent of his digits on your g-spot. 

Every run of his manicured nails across where you’re sure you were beginning to get bruised. And every-so-often whenever his eyes glaze green with raw greed - with slight, stupid jealousy over his fingers - you’d peek at Choso plunging his digits into his mouth and sucking.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Matching the lecherous sound of your thundering heartbeat, you can feel yourself squeal at the overstimulating touches. Sobbing out the cutest little whines that make Choso chuckle, “Easy– easy there, my girl.” Letting your cunt free with a sodden pwah! only to spit. Once. Twice. A sticky wad of his thick saliva that blusters its way to coat your puffy pussy lips, “You’re cumming again, right? A-all over my face?”

You’re nodding - nodding and nodding so hard, but that wasn’t enough for Choso Kamo. 

He wasn’t satisfied until a slow pull of your clit right from between his pearly whites had you bawling out. The backs of your hands dipping upwards to hide your face - which he quickly, and calculatedly spanks away with his free hand. “M’gonna cum soon- ngh- please- Cho- don’ stop.”

Hah, if this was any other time then Choso might’ve laughed. 

Might’ve teased you until you were begging for him in that cute voice once more. But maybe it’s the way his alpha was clawing at his chest from the insides to give you whatever you want, maybe it was the way seeing you fall apart on your heat like this all over him had his cock twitching-

Because Choso only smiles - drunk. Dazed. “Cum f’me, p-please. Ruin me, ma’am..”

He was ruined alright. 

Absolutely sugar-coated with your overlaying juices - it’s dripping down his bed and disappearing into the now see-through fabric of his undershirt like a badge of honor. A badge to say that he’s made you cum for the second time on his mouth. 

That he’s made you squirt. 

Splattering out all over his face with every slurping taste - and yet, Choso still couldn’t get enough. Sweeping up the milky droplets, Choso’s boring his heady gaze right into your widened eyes when he’s leering his mouth agape to make you spy the way each splash slides down his throat. 

God- you’re seeing white all over again. You’re seeing spots, having you gulp in necessary gasps of the soiled air to once more regain your steady heartpace. 

“Ch-Choso-” you’re struggling, voice brittle and gone. Frantically trying to haul - to force - Choso from his favorite home between your cunt, to stop his greedy tongue. “S’enough- can’t cum anymore can’t- ngh-”

“But, beautiful–”

Shit- it would be so easy to get swept up all over again. Because Choso was parched, and he was still far from having his fill. 

Words tinting with a slightly commanding tone, you’re making something dark and primal rear its head when you manhandle him upwards with one hand in his locks, and another on his undershirt. So heavy but pliant. 

Up, up, up-

“Choso–” you’re mumbling out. And before you know it, Chosos hands had toppled you over into the cushiony mattress, and yours were tracing the edge of his too-tight boxers. Tugging. Needy. “I-I want these- off-”

“Anything.” He’s echoing, like it was all that he could right about now. Dewey brows scrunching up into something of a beg, you’re catching the way his Adam’s apple bobs. Deprived. “Anything f-for you-”

Fuck- in your currently woozy state you’re not sure if Choso removed his pants or if he ripped them off. Stumbling and tripping to let the few scarce tatters droop into the floor in a sullen pile. 

With a gulp, your fingers skitter across the planes of his useless undershirt - letting his pretty, bulging muscles peek out at you from underneath when you slide them off of him. Palms smearing in gluttonous little touches across his push pecs, down his rippling abs, down that lusciously dark happy trail and oh-

“S-something the matter, beautiful?” Choso’s heaving in a struggling gulp at the way your gorgeous eyes widen, maw slacking into a soft oh! Head tilting innocently, “M’your hah- best friend, you can tell me a-anythin’.”

“You’re just so…” Comes the whirling answer, your voice slow and alcoholic. He was getting drunk on your words already. “...big.”

Not only was Choso big - he was massive. 

The fat, rotund circle of his head ruddied a strawberry pink, gradiating all the way down his shaft to meet blend into his creamy base. He was so hard that it looked painful, visibly throb! throb! throbbing, bumpy lightning bolts of his veins hammering up at you cheekily. He was so pretty - thick enough that you’re feeling your cunt clench already. Even the burn of your stare has Choso’s reddish divot weeping out a few ropey spurts of pre. Making you dizzy with the incredible size and that musky vanilla scent of his. 

And was that-

Oh. Fuck.

It was.

Through the honeyed slew of precum pooling at Choso’s thick tip, you’re gasping at the slight wink of something metallic. 

Without thinking - without even breathing - you’re drifting your hand down to thumb those syrupy globules thin. Discovering the absolute treasure chest that was a studded Prince Albert’s piercing right near the weepy edge of Choso’s shaft. 

“I got if for- you- Gotta a-another one, y’know-” His gentle rasp jolts you out of your sinful reverie, engulfing hands guiding your own to wrap around his flushed tip and peek under. Right on the slippery sliver of his slit, “A ngh- matching one. Th-thought you might like it…”

Oh- two. 

And, embarrassingly, you can feel the way your scent turns headier. Hypnotizing. Enough so that Choso can’t help the way he’s hanging by a bare thread, head falling into the crook of your neck to breathe in. “Y-you act so innocent but…” 

“But m’only l-like this for you.” He’s tucking your tender earlobe between his teeth. “P-promise. I haven’t even…”

Ah, a virgin. 

Sweet and absolutely gifted. 

And something about it was so cute the way Choso was acting exactly like it. Every wordless toy of your fingers up and down his sensitive glans, making him snarl a lipbite. Girthy length fucking up in shuddering slams into the cushiony tunnel of your palm. Weightily muscled abs flexing with heat when you’re running a thumb under his head to press down on that silver piercing. 

“S-so tiny- heh- your pretty hands are so tiny takin’ my cock, beautiful.” he’s giggling - giggling. Perspiration-simmered forehead knocking into yours, Choso’s letting his tired head loll there and bore into your eyes. “You needa ngh- fuck! Needa slow down, my girl, m’already so close jus’ from making out with yer sweet c-cunt out.” Already close. Just from eating you out. “Else m’n-not gonna be able to control it-”

“I can handle it–” you’re pouting stubbornly. Soft digits clenching even tighter around his cock, and shit, Choso lets his head fall into the junction between your shoulder and your neck. 

Finding himself growing more needy. More feral. Tight, hot curdling in his stomach building up and up.

“M’serious.” His lilting voice breaks, teeth skimming over the pulpy flesh of your sweetened pheromone glands. Nibbling. His incredibly shaky fingers wrap around your shoulders, “Please- ngh- please m’gonna break ya.”

And it’s like you wanted him to.

Dick twitching at those filthy fingers of yours - the way they only pump him faster. And faster. Tighter around the hefty base, more teasing up the slippery slope of his tip - like you were trying to milk out something delicious. 

And you can already feel the way your mouth lathers with a fresh coating of saliva, face inching closer and closer to the bawling peak of his swollen cock. Wanting oh-so-badly to taste the silver of his Prince Albert’s. 

“But I want you to, Cho.”

SMACK!

You’re left stupidly stunned when Choso’s behemoth palm coils like a tight shackle around your tender throat. Pulling you away from his achy cock in a flash, you’re being thrown around like his own personal ragdoll. 

And Choso snickers at the way you’re bouncing cutely on the plush mattress, legs drooping wider and wider agape with every sleazy second he really can’t help but leer over you. Wrangling those boneless legs of yours over his shoulder with a sharp click of his tongue. 

“I-I already told you, beautiful–” he’s bending down, down down to nose along your sweat-dotted cheeks, your skin stark hot against the icy chain of his silver necklace. Chest grumbling with a slight purr. “M’gonna make such a mess of you- can I?”

And that drunken look in Choso’s eyes made him look like he would absolutely shatter if you let your lips shape into a teasing no right about now. Like those warm, salted tears spattering from the corners of his half-lidded eyes and right onto your cheeks would only hasten. 

“Can I- please, my girl- jus’ wanna-” His lips wobble adorably when his sobbing cock glides a slow line between the mushy lips of your pussy. A graze for a graze of his mouth down your own. “-wanna make you mine.”

And just the tip - just a single fat inch shoved into your gummy hole is all it takes for Choso to whimper. 

You’re brushing over his precious cheek, “Ch-Cho, are you okay?”

And Choso can’t answer - hell, he doesn’t think he could even if he wanted to. Because that gushing little clench of your clingy walls all around his sodden wet tip absolutely ruins him. Delicate rivulets of slobber streaming down the smiling edges of his tongue, he’s puffing out an open-mouthed, “No- fuck- d-do I look okay?”

He didn’t.

He seemed like he was burning up - fucked-out already, practically. Pecs rippling with a bolting flex, muscled body shirking with violent shivers when with a low keen of your name - Choso’s cumming. 

“No-” he’s crying out, head flailing backwards. Just from putting it inside for the first time. “No no no no- m’not s’pposed to- yet-”

But he was. Hips recklessly meandering again and again into yours - slight, tugging grinds of just his thickened tip like Choso was afraid of sinking into your heavenly pussy anymore. Like he knew it would break him even more. 

Have him flooding out voluminous ribbons of thick seed, splattering against your spongy channel, and smearing around in dripping vertical patterns with every one of his animalistic ruts. 

“Give it t’me–” you’re locking your ankles even tighter. Prattling out such filthy nonsense that you’re sure you’d get embarrassed about had you not been in your heat. “I-I need your cum, baby- wan’ it allll inside me-”

“Ngh-” Choso’s letting off a broken sound at the back of his throat, squeezing your own with that one hand of his happily making its home there. Blocking off your airway, your heady pheromones only struggle to waft out even more. Saturating. “D-don’t talk like that- n-not outta ya pussy, beautiful.”

“But I w-ngh! want it-”

He gulps, “A-are you sure?” Because this is his best friend - this is the one person he’d never even dreamt of having because that was too dangerous. Too fanciful. The one person he’d written about in every diary, and gotten teased for it by his family just the same. Perfect. 

Yet, you’re so stubborn when you’re in heat. “Mhm– wan’ you to…breed me.”

And he loved it.

Couldn’t get enough of it - or you. 

Choso’s scrambling up one of his jostling hands to latch your hips into a perfect almost-semicircle. Lower lip worried underneath his canines when he’s wiping his fat thumb over the dewdrops of seed treacling from your soppy slit. 

That digit finds its way rummaging between your lips, “Lock it.”

This time, you don’t need it said twice - you don’t even need it to be a command.

Because Choso’s reigning up his own hand to pin both your ankles behind his head, and you think you’ll forever remember just how hot he looked this way. Biceps bulging with the strain, simmering with a slick sheen of perspiration, and his hips-

Oh, it’s like any and every slip of restraint in Choso’s hulking body snapped. 

Because with a loud, saturated squelch! you’re being filled up to what it feels like your lungs with every solid inch of his engorged girth. Inflating your tender insides, buttering your poor cervix with a thick stream of pre when he’s kissing it with a wet thwack!

“Oh- oh.” Choso’s head pushes into the crook of your neck, into your pillow until you were sure that it was soaked with tears of absolute bliss. “Th-this feels nothing l-like my ngh- hand. S’so much more heavenly-”

Yet, you weren’t in the right state of mind to be paying attention to the utter filth that was spilling from your innocent best friend’s mouth. Breath choking up in a lead ball in your throat, you whisper, “Ch-Cho…s’that your knot?”

Your slicked-up folds puckering up in a wet snog against the overinflated ring ballooning around his thick base. The sheer thumping circumference of it makes you squeeze-

“Y-yes–” he’s humming out. The sodden base of his cock thwack! thwack! thwacking your bruising entrance when he’s rutting in and out. Sloppy. Slow. Still trying not to see stars. “God- s’even softer than I ngh- imagined.”

And soft you were. 

This is what your sweet pussy felt like? This good? This should be fucking illegal, he was babbling out - but wouldn’t realize until much, much later. 

Being spearheaded open with every unapologetic rifle to fill you up, the leftover dredges of Choso’s seed trickle a slippery pathway leading him to ambush your g-spot head on. Stubbing his cool metal piercing into your sweetened bullseyes so hard, you swear you could feel the indenting divot of that sinful Prince Albert’s.

“There?” Mesmerized, his eyes grow wide. “R-right there?”

And he’s hot - so feverish. 

Glissading body on top of yours burning up with radiating heat, fracturing our rationality just as much as the sweet vanilla scent of his pheromones were. That tiny heart friendship charm on his necklace hitting your collarbones in a dirty staccato. 

You can feel yourself start to drool with how stupid Choso’s cock was fucking you, curling a few neat raking lines down his statuesquely muscled back. It makes him just arch his cock even deeper to jostle your snug insides riotously. 

“I-imagined about me a lot?” Ah, you’re finding it in yourself to smirk.

Something that Choso’s jackhammering out in quick, increasingly sloppy juts of his hips. Slathering the entirety of his cock with your slicked juices. 

“O-of course.” He’s shifting his eyes gingerly away from yours with a boyish blush. But now that Choso had started talking, he couldn’t stop. “Always wan’ed to f-fuck you through a rut or h-heat like this- to-” Couldn’t keep from hiking up a flattened foot to angle his pierced cockhead into every untouched inch inside you. The special upright curve of his shaft driving you mad. “-to absolutely ruin you and-” The hand at your legs hover right over where he was plummeting your insides with gluey kisses - your womb. “-and make you mine. Ours.”

Ours. 

God, just the mere act of confessing those embarrassing little words had Choso’s hulking body practically melting into yours. 

It’s like his abs were made of adhesive, massaging up and down your front. Drowning you into the plethora of wrecked sheets and him when he’s collapsing on top of you - but still going. Still placing pound after pound. 

“I-I want that too-” And you think you hear Choso sharply gasp, but you can’t confirm over your popping ears. “Always wanted it- ah- wanted you to fuck a baby into me, Cho.”

SLAM!

The slowly-splintering bedframe creaks when one particularly harsh rut has the headboard slamming into the wall behind. 

And that’s all he needed to hear. 

A baby - he wants a baby. He needs one - and this wasn’t just his alpha talking - and he was going to get it.

All that Choso thinks he ever could hear all through his honeyed mind for the rest of his life. Replaying it over and over in his mind like his favorite catchy tune. 

You don’t miss the way that he looks so in love above you, gaze practically heart-eyed and gone. Choso’s raw, swollen lips meteor shower your face with peck after peck - just in time with the collisions of his rounded tip into your sweet spots. 

“Boy or girl?”

“H-huh?” you’re questioning, barely-lucidly. 

“Boy or girl.”

And after those senseless little answers are falling from your lips, Choso’s brushing a hand over your lower tummy. Pushing. Hard. Until his twitchy knot was covered in buttery residues of cum, “Ah- a-always wan’ed a daughter with ya first. With your c-cute smile and ngh- eyes.”

Huffing out an embarrassed, “Choso.”

And he’s only scooping back in the leaky sediments of seed that he’s responsible for making a mess of. Turning a slow thumb right over your tight ring of muscle, “Gonna have my- ngh- style of course, heh- you’d be the best momma. D-don’t care if you’re my best friend, m’gonna breed ya until you’re overspilling, beautiful.”

You needed it so badly. Your heat turning up a notch until it felt like you were boiling from the inside out, candied scent drifting more. 

He’s giggling out, dark lashes batting without his permission. “M’gonna- ngh- take care of you-”. The hand caressing your elastic entrance flies upwards to get cleaned off by his own tongue - before prying your jaw sagging open to spit. “Goood fuckin’ care. N’ hopefully you’ll end up p-pregnant…hopefully.”

He’s encircling the dip in your waist and dragging you forwards to smack against his washboard abs. Unable to squirm. Unable to run away. “Gonna be the p-prettiest momma- the ngh- most beautiful.” Other hand restricting your throat so cozily that your vision tinges with black, “Gonna be mine.”

And when you’re cumming, it’s with those exact words in mind.

The way your sopping walls were milking him for all he’s worth - so greedily - shoving Choso to tip over the edge, too. 

Choso’s letting his body sexily cave into yours, not breaking even a mere inch apart when he’s got you trapped and overfilled with every dollop of his cum icing your insides. And right now you could already feel the way your scents were mixing, the way Choso turns slightly cross-eyed- 

Before sharply turning to your glands and biting. 

Hard. 

His predatory canines break through your epidermis layer like butter, a crimson lipstain gushing from the wound and staining his lips a handsome rouge. 

And - only belatedly, once your omega’s snapping at you with her teeth bared - do you realize that it’s your turn to do the same. As if you would want any other. 

Locking your jaw to dig into his pale, dampish throat, Choso sucks in his cheek to muffle the slightest whine when you’re wringing him through every speck of bliss he could possibly ever feel in a lifetime. Furious cock stuttering out a few more lazy wisps of cum at the mingling feeling of finally being yours. 

“Not ‘nough-” He’s eyeing the leftover ring of cum painting his knot, “Can I fill ya up m-more? Please? Please- my girl.”

You’re pulling away with a woozy nod to rub your thumb over the dug indents of your teeth, gently soothing slow circles over the feral sting. 

Filling you up over and over with each pound, he’s fucking you into the mattress like he hates you. And he’s fucking you like every shuddering ram had a creamy ounce of cum pouring into your gummy walls. Glueing in wet splats against your g-spot, your cervix, like a second sloppy skin. 

Generous helpings of cum drifting into almost blanks-

“Heh- haaaah- y’know tha’s makin’ me still c-cum, beautiful.” Choso’s leaving sodden kisses on your own mark, your lips. “M’sorry m’sorry I- I can’t stop- I just- can’t.”

And it’s sheer animal nature in you that’s screaming at you that you don’t want him to stop until you’re sure it takes. That’s bending down a hand as much as deftly as possible to wrap around Choso’s slightly softening cock - that only tuts in impatience. 

“Wh-when I said inside-” You’re pumping his soaked base as much as possible, feeling the stiffening twitch at his tip buried inside you. “-I mean- inside-”

It’s like you’re being split-apart - like you couldn’t be any fuller if you tried. 

And, yet, only the very curvaceous top of Choso’s inflated knot had bullied its way in-between your lewdly stretched hole. Gaping a pathway so incredibly girthy that it makes you scrunch your brows, head tumbling backwards. 

“Oh- oh, my greedy, greedy girl.” But Choso doesn’t look one bit admonishing - not one bit. Slithering a hand down to your cunt, he’s steamrolling two thick pads of his fingers. Rubbing up against your squeamish walls, scissoring your tight entrance so amply open. “I can put it…inside. R-really, really inside?”

Oh, Choso doesn’t know what blessings he’s received in his past lives. But absolutely nothing could have prepared him for how swelteringly hot and cushy you were around his fat knot. 

Swallowing up the bulging circlet, plugging up your seeping slit safely so that you’re not spilling a single glutinous splotch of his cum. So that it will take. It’s such a tight fit. Such a burning stretch. You felt so full you could burst with every throb of his swollen knot probing your walls. 

Ah, you look so pretty this way.

And Choso’s half-wishing he had a camera to capture this moment. With his lips pressing a few syrupy kisses along every inch of skin he could reach. Somewhere near your tummy - so full and slightly inflated with the copious amounts of cum that were dumped inside you. 

He’s murmuring something drunken - something you probably weren’t even supposed to hear. But at the curious tilt of your head, your best friend chews over his lips nervously. 

And a giddy smile plasters across your face at the saccharine love in your best friend’s eyes - the way he was probably mulling over asking you out on a date. There was no turning back at this point, and your omega purred in agreement as you got ready to say yes. For him to say a sweetened- 

“Marry me.”

A/N. You show up at the next Itadori family dinner with a ring and Sukuna has an actual heart attack.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[waves-against-a-cliff]

After the end - Post-apocalypse Omegaverse AU

Summary - The first shot is fired. While you come up with a plan to confuse and bait these four alphas, they come up with their own strategy.

Tags - Omegaverse (duh), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, non traditional dynamics, all of the 141 are alphas, you're an omega. Eventual smut, dub-con, knotting, mating press, polyamory, alphas love alphas. 141 x reader. Omega has a shotgun, I REPEAT, Omega has a shotgun. Mentions of violence.

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2

You looked at the four men with wide eyes and they stared back at you with equally wide ones as well. Your finger moved to the trigger of the shotgun and the one with a scraggly mohawk stepped forward. You growled without even meaning to and he hesitated. "Come on Bonnie, drop tae shotgun," he tried to negotiate but you snarled at him.

"Get the fuck out of my woods," you replied, snarling so hard spit flies from your mouth. You pointed the shotgun at the four of them but mostly focused on the Scottish brute in front of you, "Or I'll kill you."

A nasty smile crossed his face, feral and unnatural. "Oh ye wouldnae. You're just a little omega," he cooed and you pulled the trigger. The kick is a little more than you expected and you're pushed flat on your back from the kick. You the blast heard echo through the woods and your ears are ringing. Behind the ringing you hear curses and you looked to see the Scottish alpha on the ground clutching his shoulder with a dark look in his eyes.

His three other alpha packmates gathered around him, fretting over his wound and so you took the chance to get onto your feet and get away. "She's gettin' away!" You heard another shout and then more curses. You assumed that one fell into the hole you had covered up. You hoped he enjoys the wooden spikes.

You huffed and puffed after a while, your breathing fogging the air around you. The winter chill had made your nose hurt and your fingers were stiff. You rubbed them together to try and gather some heat in them. You shakily reloaded the shotgun, putting the spent shotgun shell into your pocket.

You don't need anymore tracks leading them to you.

You can't help but wonder how they figured it out. How they knew someone was still lingering around this long forgotten small town. You racked your brain for the answer as you kept walking, snow crunching under your well worn boots.

You thought back to a few days ago, the last time you had been in for resupply. You had noticed one of your traps had been triggered. The false floor in a building had collapsed underneath the weight of someone. You checked it and found a very big, unnaturally big, beta. He was already dead, he was wearing a T-shirt as a mask of all things. It had taken a lot of effort to get him from the pit, you'd had to grab your old jeep, rarely used except for times like these when you needed to haul something big.

In this case, a tall T-shirt mask wearing beta.

You had cut yourself on a shard of glass picking him up and loading him into the back. You hadn't even thought about it when you wiped your hand on the wooden pole. "Fucking stupid," you whispered to yourself. Carelessness.

After all this time it was carelessness that had gotten you at last.

Then it gave you an idea. If they were able to track your scent using blood...

You grabbed your pocket knife and looked at it, the idea of the perfect trap starting in your mind.

"Fuckin' bitch," Soap hissed from between clenched teeth. The shotgun blast had barely grazed his shoulder but it still hurt like a massive bitch. "She actually shot tae damn thing."

Gaz scoffed as he wrapped his mild puncture wound, the wooden stakes at the bottom not sharpened enough to do any real damage. "That's what you get for provoking," he replied as he stood up.

"I was not provoking!" Soap said and Gaz rolled his eyes.

"Shut it you two," Price finally snapped as he pinched the bridge of his nose using his index and thumb. Gaz had been right, there was an omega running around in this forest still. The issue was now that not only did she know that they were here but that she had known before hand.

"How's Soaps shoulder?" Price asked Ghost, who had a stronger bond with Soap. It was natural. Price was more bonded with Gaz and he could feel his inner alpha snarling and pacing that he was hurt.

"It'll be fine. Luckily the shot mostly missed," Ghost replied gruffly. Price turned to his pack and looked over them.

"What do you think Ghost?"

"I think she has more 'f these traps laid out through the forest," he replied, his shoulders tensed at the idea of having to navigate an entirely booby trapped forest.

"Did you hear what she said?" Gaz asked and Price raised a brow.

"Yes Kyle, what of it?"

"She referred to this place as her woods."

"What of it?" Soap snapped and Gaz glared at his fellow sergeant.

"This is her territory," Gaz finally finished and everyone gave him a skeptical look.

"Omegas don't have territory," Soap responded, "they aren't built like that."

Gaz rolled his eyes. Out of everyone within the pack, Gaz might be the most versed on how omegas operated with Ghost not far behind him. "Even if this is her territory," Price said and even he sounded skeptical, "there's still an easy solution."

Ghost looked at his captain, his stomach churned at what he was about to say. He knew what he would say. They could scruff her.

"We just have to get close." Price said and Soap huffed out a laugh.

"Damn thing is fuckin' feral. We aren't gettin' through these woods without a few more scratches."

"So you're willin' to give up a ripe omega?" Gaz challenged and Soap shook his head.

"I didnae say that."

[munson-blurbs]

Summary: A missing key and a terrible storm leaves you and Eddie stranded in the back of his van. What ever shall you do to pass the time?

WC: 1.6k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), unprotected p in v, friends-to-lovers, kinda sub!Eddie but he's mostly just a simp.

A/N: This will be my last 1k+ fic for a while, as I'll be focusing on writing blurbs for Corroded Coffin Fest throughout July. Why not go out with a (literal) bang?

--

“What do you mean, you forgot your key?”

Your eyes widen as Eddie flicks through the keyring. He shakes his head in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. 

“I was switching keychains…I thought I put them all back…” He huffs out an irritated laugh. “Must’ve left the house key on the table.”

A warm breeze siphons through the humidity, gray clouds rolling in. August in Hawkins is unbearable as it is, and the sticky heat before a storm is downright brutal. 

Eddie jiggles the doorknob once more, to no avail. “Jesus H. Christ.” He rakes a hand through his curls, frizzy and knotted from the hot weather. “Back to your place?”

Before you can agree, lightning flashes and is swiftly accompanied by booming thunder. Your heart leaps into your throat and you jump. 

“Scared the shit outta me, too.” Eddie laughs nervously. A fat raindrop falls from the sky and plops on his nose, rolling off of the side. Another lands on his cheek, then one lands on yours, until rain pours in a steady sheet. 

Eddie grabs your hand, tugging you off of the trailer’s front steps and pulling you back to his van. He flings open the back doors, always kept unlocked unless he’s hauling concert equipment. 

“Get in,” he orders, and you follow his instructions without a second though. Rainwater pools in the grass, dirt turning into mud beneath your sneakered feet. His hands grip your waist, steadying you as you climb up. “We’ll wait in here until the rain dies down.”

You ignore the lingering flames that his touch leaves behind and the way he’s now sitting right next to you. “It’s like a monsoon out there.”

“Yeah.”

The two of you sit in silence for a few moments, listening to the storm raging outside. Raindrops sound like drum beats against the van’s exterior, a song you’ve heard many times before. 

A chill sweeps over you, reminding you of the wet cotton of your t-shirt clinging to your torso. Your miniskirt hasn't fared much better, the light-washed denim now dark. 

“Do you have a blanket back here?”

Eddie shakes his head. “That’s, like, the one thing I don’t have.” He gestures to the cluttered space. 

You offer a half-smile. “S’okay.” Your palms glide up and down your goosebump-covered arms. 

He notices this, frowning. “Here,” he says. “My hands are bigger than yours.” He clumsily positions himself behind you, knees knocking against your sides. His grasp is strong but gentle, hands warming you up from the outside in. 

“Thanks.” He’s close—so close—yet it feels like he’s never been farther away. Without thinking, you scoot back until your ass brushes against his fly. 

“Sh-Shit.” Eddie inhales sharply. “That’s, um, dangerous territory.”

You raise your brows, though he can’t see them. “And rubbing my arms isn’t?”

Eddie peers around, chin resting on your shoulder. He looks up and says, “it doesn’t turn you on though.”

“Says who?”

He breathes out a laugh, stopping immediately when he realizes that you’re not joking. His voice is barely above a whisper when he asks, “This…this turns you on?” 

You nod, suddenly shy at the admission. 

“How about this?” Eddie’s lips press against the back of your neck. One calloused hand reaches for the collar of your shirt, tugging it down to expose your shoulder. He kisses that, too, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin. 

“Mhm.”

“Fuck.” His other hand snakes around your throat, holding it firmly but being careful not to squeeze. “We shouldn’t do this. S’gonna ruin our friendship.”

Gently, you turn to face him, legs straddling his waist. “I’m fine with ruining it if you are.” The words are murmured, muffled by the proximity of your lips and his. 

Eddie swallows, Adam's apple bobbing with trepidation. “Just want you. Fuck, I want you so bad.”

He grabs your ass and pulls you closer until you can feel his erection straining against his jeans. You roll your hips, eliciting a moan from him. 

“You—I gotta—” He unbuckles his belt, tossing it amongst the van’s clutter. “I’m so hard it hurts.”

You reach for his pants button, but he shakes his head. “I’ll bust if you touch me,” he sheepishly explains. 

He takes off his own pants, which is much more of a chore than usual because of the rain-soaked fabric. He doesn’t bother to remove his Hellfire shirt, but you hardly notice. His tented boxers hold your focus, and despite his warning, you strip them away. You need to see what’s beneath them. 

The sight before you is nothing less than glorious. 

His cock is hard, curved slightly left, the pinkish-purple tip already leaking pre-cum. Your thumb traces the vein that runs along the shaft, and he shivers at your touch. When he looks at you with wide, wet eyes, you nearly melt on the spot.

“Is…Is this what you want?” Eddie’s voice is so soft you can barely hear it above the pouring rain. “Because…I want this so bad. So fucking bad.” Pleading, desperate, bordering on pathetic. Everything he showed outwardly, you felt on the inside.

You lean in, capturing his lips and pouring all of your desire into one searing kiss. “Don’t just want it. Need it. Need you,” you reassure him, feeling his length twitch against you. Taking it in your hand, you move your panties out of the way and rub the head against your clit. Every nudge sends a wave of pleasure crashing through your body. “Mmmph, please, please.”

Eddie wraps his hand around yours, guiding his cock into you. “There you go,” he whispers, hissing as you sink down. He fills you completely, bringing a pinch of pain as you adjust to him. “You okay?”

“Mhm. M-More than okay.” You grip his shoulders, curling your fingers into the shirt’s cotton fabric.  Moving your hips, you work him deeper until he’s bottomed out, sheathed within you down to the curls at his base. 

Everything is Eddie, and it feels so good. 

“Can’t believe I’m inside you.” He tries to kiss you, the action hindered by a small laugh. “I’m actually—we’re actually doing this. Fuck, you feel so good!” The last sentence is a growl, raw and primal. 

You hold on to him, knees scraping against the van’s worn carpet as your movements find their rhythm. There’s no more time for self-control. Only Eddie, his hips bucking to meet your core. 

“Might…might not last long,” he admits, swiping at a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. “You’re even better than my fantasies. Never knew you’d feel this f-fucking warm. Tight. Like you’re m-made for me.”

“Maybe I am.” You swoop down to suck on his neck. “Maybe I am made for you, and I’ve been waiting for you to realize it.”

Eddie groans, throwing his head back and exposing more of his neck, which you dutifully continue marking. His thoughts are clouded by lust; neither of you speak for a while, the only noises are moans and the van squeaking on its axles. 

“It’s always you.”

Your eyes meet his. “What?”

“In my fantasies. It’s always you. Every time I jerk off, I imagine your hands, your mouth, your perfect pussy—”

“Eddie.” His name is barely a breath. You clench around him just as he kisses you, and his teeth sink into your lower lip. It’s not hard enough to draw blood, but it produces a twinge of pain that has you skyrocketing towards climax. “Yes, yes, yes!”

He grabs your hips harshly, keeping you flush against him. The denim waistband of your skirt digs into your skin but you don’t care. Nothing matters, only Eddie, Eddie, Eddie…

“I’m coming. Fuck, I’m coming.” He thrusts upwards in short, punctuated strokes, heaving as he spills into you. 

The two of you stay like that for a few moments, catching your breath and processing what just happened. You confessed that Eddie’s touch turned you on, you rode him in the back of his van, and then he confessed that he thinks about you when he touches himself. 

Oh, and he gave you an earth-shattering orgasm. 

As if reading your mind, Eddie says softly, “you came…right? Because if you didn’t, I can—”

“Yeah.” You can’t help but giggle, silencing him with a kiss. “I definitely came.”

His chest sags with relief. “Good. Me, too. I mean, obviously. It’s right…” He withdraws, cock softening, his cum trickling down your thigh. “Holy fucking shit.” 

There’s no masking his grin, visible through the t-shirt’s thin fabric as he pulls it over his head. With a careful touch, he wipes away his mess. 

“I think I owe you a new shirt.”

“Nah.” He shakes his head, tossing the shirt aside. “I have a million of these. Not the first time one’s been, uh, stained.”

Eddie’s cheeks turn crimson at his admission. He averts his gaze from you, bringing his attention to the foggy window. The condensation squeaks under his forefinger as he draws a smiley face through it. 

“What do you wanna do till my uncle gets home?”

You, you think, but the last thing you need is for Wayne to find the van a-rockin’. “Maybe I could hear more about those fantasies of yours? And I could tell you some of mine?”

Eddie looks back at you, his spent cock still managing a small twitch. “Mmm.” His lips find your throat, sending vibrations through you when he speaks. One hand snakes between your bodies, his middle finger landing on your clit. He makes small, deliberate circles as he murmurs.

“Ladies first.”

--

[mrsbarnesblog]

Stay quiet for me

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Summary: Bucky fucks you while your parents sleep in the next room

Words count: 1.6k

Warnings: modern setting, established relationship, smut, kinda somnophillia?, everything is consensual, quiet sex, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming.

Author’s note: thanks for everyone’s support. enjoy❤️‍🔥

Your parents had been staying at yours and Bucky's apartment for four days, and even though he loved them, he was kind of missing having you only for him.

Bucky wasn’t the type of person who would show too much affection and feelings in front of other people, but when you were alone, he always had his hands on you. Causally slapping your ass, kissing your neck, or just bending you over the closet flat surface was his favorite thing to do, and, unfortunately, he couldn't do it while your mom or dad were sitting in the same room.

He didn’t want to be dramatic, but it was torture. Obviously, you two didn’t have sex during these days because you were too afraid that your parents might hear, and at first Bucky understood, but with every cute little outfit, every smile towards him, and every innocent touch of your hand, he was losing it. 

And now he had been lying wide awake for the past thirty minutes while you were peacefully sleeping next to him. Your back was pressing firmly against Bucky’s chest; his left hand was under your pillow, and the right one was on your waist. He was just enjoying whatever he could get, inhaling your sweet perfume and rubbing the soft skin of your stomach with his thumb. That was until you, still fully asleep, moved your ass right towards his crotch.

The reaction was instant. Bucky’s body tensed near you; his eyes got closed, and his cock became painfully hard. The only layers that were between you were his boxers and your cotton panties, because you liked to sleep only in one of Bucky’s t-shirts. And the fact that you continued to move in your sleep didn’t help at all.

“Baby…” Bucky whispered into your neck, trying to stop your hips, but it didn't help. “Doll, stop—” That was it; he couldn’t even think straight with your ass firmly pressed against him.

Fuck it, you can be quiet, right? Bucky hesitated for a few seconds, but then his right hand slipped from your belly right into your underwear. Two fingers ran across your folds, pressing on your clit.

“Bucky…” You would’ve moaned out loud if Bucky hadn’t covered your mouth with his free hand. 

“Sh-h, baby.” He started slowly moving his fingers in circular motions, and you unconsciously moved your legs wider to give your boyfriend better access. 

“We can’t do that right now.” You mumbled against the palm of his hand. “My parents are sleeping in the nest ro—” You didn’t finish your sentence because two fingers suddenly slipped inside of you.

You were already wet enough for Bucky to easily move his hand, brushing your G-spot with every thrust. The rational part of your brain wanted to stop him, but your body was too weak; it was already addicted to Bucky’s touch, and you both knew that.

“Stay quiet for me, baby, ‘kay?” The hot breath on your neck sent goosebumps all over your body, and you couldn’t help but silently nod. 

It felt too good. Maybe you tried being cool about it, but you missed sex with Bucky as much as he did. Yes, it was just four days, but after living together for two years, you already got used to the fact that Bucky was kind of obsessed with you and couldn’t live without touching you at every possible moment.

So right now, when Bucky’s fingers were slowly moving in and out of you while the palm of his hand was so perfectly brushing against your clit, and his hips were moving with the same pace against your ass, you forgot about everything else except the two of you.

Your orgasm was creeping in slowly but heavily. The knot in your stomach was already almost painful; you were so close to your release, pulsing on his fingers. You needed just a few moments, and...

And Bucky completely pulled his fingers out of you, making you whine in despair. His left hand covered your mouth again because it was a little bit too loud for the dead silence in the house. But still, you felt disappointment as the last signs of your building orgasm slipped out of your body, and you were lying there wet, hot, and a little bit mad that your boyfriend didn’t let you finish.

“I told you to shut up, baby. I’m gonna take care of ‘ya. Just wanna feel your tight little pussy cumming on my cock, ‘kay?” You nodded again when Bucky started to kiss the back of your neck and shoulders, at the same time sliding your underwear down your legs. “Lift your leg a little bit, doll.” 

You did as he told you, even though it was hard because your whole body was trembling from excitement and fear of getting caught. It felt like you were just teenagers who were trying to fuck without anyone knowing, and this thought made you even wetter. There were, in fact, chances that everything you did could be heard in the other rooms. 

You were distracted from your thoughts when Bucky took his cock out of the boxers, gave himself a few pumps, and then rubbed it against you to cover himself in your slick. The tip pressed into your entrance, slipping inside easily, until his full length was buried deep into your dripping cunt.

Your eyes rolled back into your head, and you didn’t even notice that you bit the palm of Bucky’s hand in order not to scream out loud. He buried his face in your neck, taking deep breaths and trying to calm himself down a little bit.

“Feelin’ so good, sweetheart. Can’t imagine how much I’ve missed this pussy.” His right hand slipped under your thigh and moved your leg higher above your bed. The soft cover completely fell off your body, leaving your hot body exposed to the cold air of the room. It seems like he slipped even deeper, stretching and filling you up so well. 

Bucky started to move slowly in and out of you, trying to make as few noises as possible and thrusting into you in a steady rhythm. You felt so fucking good wrapped around him that it was hard to behave well and not fuck you right into the mattress as he always liked to do. If you two were alone, he would've probably already put you ass up on the bed with your face in the pillows, making you scream his name and moan non-stop.

“M-m-m.” You couldn’t do anything but silently whine into his hand at every movement of his thick cock sliding inside of you. You didn’t know what to do with your hands or what to grab to distract yourself from the hot pleasure that was filling your whole body. 

“Don’t– Don’t say a fucking word, baby. You don’t want your parents to find out that you’re just a slut for my cock, right?” Bucky’s deep whisper in your ear made you squeeze around him even harder. “So tight, so wet for me. I swear, you won’t be able to walk for a few days when we finally are alone, you hear me? Already so dumb for my cock, and it’s been almost for days.” His teeth playfully bit your earlobe, before moving lower to suck on the soft skin of your neck.

Your orgasm started to build again, with every movement bringing you closer and closer to the finish line. You wanted to cry or scream—you didn’t even know—but the tears blurred your vision when the hand under your leg moved further and Bucky pressed his fingers on your swollen clit. Your body twitched from the overstimulation, but your boyfriend just pressed harder, so you had no other choice but to let yourself fall into the abyss of pleasure.

“Cum for me, doll. I got ‘ya. Cum on my cock, I feel how you’re squeezing me.” Your head fell backwards, and your back arched as your orgasm filled every corner of your body.

The white noise in your ears and dots behind your closed eyes completely distracted you from the things that Bucky mumbled in your neck while he was trying to reach his own high. With a few last, not-so-steady movements, he grabbed your thigh and bit your neck while his body was trembling, emptying his hot seed deep inside of you. 

“Good girl.” Bucky didn’t stop, gently thrusting into you to prolong your orgasms a little bit. “Good fuckin’ girl, take it all.” You whined when your overstimulated body started trembling under his touch, until Bucky finally stopped moving, still buried in you with his load dripping around his cock. “You did so good, doll.”

“W-what if they heard us?” You whispered into the darkness of your room, which was filled with the musky smell of sex, and you couldn’t deny that the adrenaline in your body felt so good. 

“They’re sleeping, and we should too.” Bucky brought your warm body closer to himself, wrapping his hand over you and not making any movement to pull out. “Wanna stay inside of you for tonight, ‘kay? Love you so much, baby.” 

“Love you too, Buck.” You relaxed under his touch and closed your eyes, drifting back to sleep, finally feeling so full and satisfied. 

You didn’t know if it was true or if your overthinking brain was just playing some bad jokes with you, but it seemed to you that your mom gave you a weird smile when you came down to the kitchen the next morning. 

[l1tw1ck]

Diluc's Fantasy

Bottom!FTM!Omega Diluc x Top!AMAB!Alpha Reader

🍇 Word Count: 1,938 🍇

AFAB Language Used | [Breaking the Thermostat]

CW: Non-Con/CNC, Omegaverse, Cunnilingus, Size Kink, Womb Fucking, Blood, Creampie, Pain Kink, Marking, Squirting, Knotting

Diluc looks at you sleeping peacefully. You fainted after closing up the bar so he brought you to your place, which is much closer than the winery. He felt bad going through your pockets but he couldn't just leave you there and it’d be pretty inconvenient to carry you all the way to the winery. He touches your forehead. “You're burning up..” He mumbles. He turns around to leave your room and so he can grab some things to take care of you but gets stopped by you grabbing his arm. “Are you awake?” He turns back around.

“Diluc…” You look at him with hazy eyes. “Don't go.” Your voice is raspy.

“I’m not leaving you. I was just going to get you some medicine and water.”

“No…” You pull him onto the bed with you. His eyes widen as you force him to cuddle with you. “Stay.”

“[Name]-” He’s flustered. “You need medicine!”

“Just need you.” You hold him tightly and fall asleep. Diluc lays there in defeat. He can't escape your grasp.

“No~! It hurts!” Diluc grabs your arms, blood dripping down from his pussy and coating your cock. He digs into your skin. “Stop~!”

“I’m not gonna stop til I stuff your pussy and breed you til you can't handle it anymore.” You grin. 

He cries out in defiance, his pussy betraying him with an orgasm. You thrust into him harder, feeling your body grow hotter with each movement. Your cheeks are burning with heat. “I’m coming–” You bite down on your lip.

You jolt awake, your cock twitching weakly. You feel Diluc shifting around uncomfortably. He can feel your boner. “Diluc.” You say lovingly.

“Ye- yes?”

“I’m gonna get you pregnant.” Your voice is low. He’s beyond startled. You move the both of you so he’s the one laying on the bed.

“Wha- what? Are you–” He gasps when you rip his pants and underwear apart. He knows you’re strong but it shouldn't have been so easy for you to rip his slacks. He shouts your name in shock. You spread his legs apart and lift his lower half, bringing his cunt closer to your face. His entire face is bright red as you taste him. “Sto- stop– I don't—” Diluc lets out a shocked noise as your tongue drags down from his sensitive pussy lips to the rim of his ass. His breathing heavily increases as he feels you exploring his insides. His brain’s getting fuzzy. It gets ‘worse’ when you start stroking his t-cock. He covers his mouth to quiet the embarrassing sounds he’s trying desperately to prevent. He knows exactly where this’ll go.

He musters up the courage to kick you in the face. It shocks you enough to allow him to escape. You recover quickly and chase after him. You follow him down the stairs and lick your lips. His fear smells good. You grab his shirt at the end of the stairs and rip it, causing his shirt to fall to the floor. He doesn't stop running but you catch him at the front door. “Please…you need to get some rest!” Diluc can tell you’re not entirely yourself.

“I need to get inside you.” You huff, kissing his neck whilst humping him. “My omega...” You murmur.

Diluc’s entire body shivers. How did you know he's into that?

“Gonna have all my pups..” You slip your hands up his body and rub his nipples. They feel oddly sore and sensitive.

“No…not…” He bites his lip. “Stop it.” He tries to sound firm but your hands feel too good. He thought he wouldn’t regain the feeling in his nipples after surgery but it looks like he was wrong. “I— [Name]–” Diluc can feel his pussy throbbing. “Stop!”

“I don't want to. You smell so good, I can't resist your scent. You're making me excited.” 

“You're disgusting.”

You dig your nails into his waist and lean into his ear. “Whether you want it or not, I’m gonna fucking breed you.” You unbutton his pants. Diluc can barely move from how turned on he is. Just knowing that you're going to fuck him even if he doesn't want you to…he's always been ashamed of this kink and at first, he was horrified when he realized the thing he’d been fantasizing about was actually going to happen but now, he really wants it. “Just be a good little omega and let me have my way with you, okay?” 

“You– you—”

“Before you try anything, just know that I’m not scared to hurt you.” You remove his boxers then your own. Diluc gulps. “You’re mine and I don't mind forcing you to accept that.” 

He mewls when he feels your cock slide in between his thighs. He looks down and gasps. It’s exactly the same as in his fantasies, from the veins to the thickness. Is he dreaming? “You…it's not gonna fit–”

“I think you already know what I’m going to say.”

You’ll make it fit. Diluc shudders. You force him to move, just enough to allow you to easily enter him. He looks back at you with tears in his eyes, the desperation in his face is making the effects of your fever worse. He's making you want to hurt him. 

“I don't think I’ve ever seen you cry before.” You smile, teasingly pressing the head of your cock at his entrance. “It's so sexy.” You lean in to kiss him but he quickly turns away. You chuckle and force your cock inside him. 

He tries to scream but his voice is too sore. All he can do is let out strained cries. “Please st- stop–” He moans as your cock stretches him out beyond comprehension. He claws at the door and whines adorably. 

“Fuck–” You groan, reaching over to play with his t-dick. Diluc shivers and almost orgasms from the contact of your hand against his lower belly. “I didn't even–” You look over at him and notice something strange.

“Wh- wha-” Diluc looks down as well and gasps. A bright red marking on his stomach. It's like one of those tattoos he’s seen in some perverted comics. “I- how-”

You gently touch it, causing him to come for real this time. He shakes heavily and squirts. “God, Diluc..” You let out a sharp breath, feeling dizzy for a moment. It's making you more aroused too and it's not doing any favors to your current physical and mental condition. Before he can even let out a word, you shove yourself further into his pussy. He wails out in pain as your cock reaches his cervix.

“No- no- stop– please—” Diluc isn't all that interested in going that far.

“I can't—” You huff, continuously slamming into his poor cervix. More tears run down his pretty face. His fingernails start to bleed. “I’m s—” You cut yourself off as you enter his womb, your cum spurting inside him.

Diluc screams properly this time, blood dripping down his thighs. It doesn't hurt as much as he thought it would, but it hurts nonetheless. Still…somehow, he isn't turned off. He presses his forehead against the door and mindlessly stares at his new tattoo and at the mix of blood and cum on the floor. It's glowing faintly. What in Teyvat is going on? 

He snaps out of his trance once he feels you moving again. His face is flushed. “Wa- wait–” He can't believe this is what it feels like to have someone’s cock in his womb. He never even really thought about it before, understandably so considering that it should be impossible. It feels strange but in a good way.

“Diluc~” You groan, picking up the pace. “Fuck, such a good boy, taking it so well..”

He whimpers.

“Maybe you were made for me…my cock fits so nicely inside you..” You trace your fingers along the glowing red lines on his stomach. He twitches and writhes. “You're already tight but when you squeeze me…”

“It- it hurts–” He manages to speak before moaning. 

“I’ll make it feel good, baby.” You kiss his cheek. In reality, you don't have to do anything at all. He can't even keep his eyes focused because of all the amazing sensations. You stare at his neck for a moment before biting it. He gasps, a wave of pleasure running down his body like chills.

The marking on his womb is now glowing bright red and he’s suddenly overwhelmed by a new scent. Your scent. Diluc whimpers. Your pheromones are strong, it feels like he's going to lose his mind. His body feels light, like a doll. All he can feel is pain, which is just the right amount, and his pleasure. His vision is hazy and his body is almost hotter than the flames from his vision. Tears and drool drip down Diluc’s face as he finally and completely succumbs to the pleasure. Whether this is realistic or not doesn't matter to him anymore. 

He moans your name, his voice cracking as he does so.

“Yeah, baby?” You press harder on his womb.

Diluc squirts once again. “Baby..” He rasps. “I- I want your baby~”

You let out a pleased growl, making him shudder. “Finally giving in, huh?” You pull out of him. His breath hitches. “Don't worry sweetheart, ‘m gonna make sure you get pregnant tonight.” You turn him around and pick him up. He doesn't say anything but you can tell by where he's looking that he's not too happy about all the cum that's leaving him. You take him to the kitchen and lay him down on the island counter. You slowly slip back into his warmth, his cervix happily allowing you back into his womb.

“It’ll be more comfortable like this when I knot you.” You trace your finger down the bulge in his stomach to the marking on his womb. Diluc smiles shakily at the thought. “So pretty..” You stare at his tattoo as you mindlessly begin to thrust into him, moving faster with each thrust. You lean into Diluc’s neck and leave sloppy kisses all over him.

Diluc can only moan your name in response. He suddenly feels strong waves of pleasure wash over him, causing him to arch his back and bite down on his lip. He tears it, causing blood to drip down his chin. You lick up his blood while stroking his dick, helping him reach his peak. He moans once again and squirts.

You groan in pleasure, fucking him harder. He can tell you're about to come too. He shudders at the sound of your heavy breathing in his ear. You dig your nails into his skin until he bleeds. He's definitely going to pass out soon from all the blood loss.

“Diluc—!” You moan, coming inside him and forming a knot. You relax your body and take a few moments to catch your breath.

Diluc feels his dizziness and feverish temperature slowly going away, his tattoo disappearing as well. You can also feel your body cooling down.

You blink a couple times before pulling back in shock. “Di- Diluc?!” You gasp. You try to pull out but you can't. You look at the knot at the base of your cock in fear and confusion. You trail over to the rest of his body and see the damage you’ve done. “I- I’m so sorry- I didn't- I wasn't–”

Diluc brings his hand to your cheek. You feel even worse seeing how shaky he is. “It’s okay. I wanted it.” 

You look at him like a worried puppy.

“Don't worry…but..I might be pregnant.”

“What?!”

[chimivx]

“…i want you, bless my soul…”

Four months.

You met him on your first day in your first class, your professor the agitated type, the kind that gave you piles of homework with every lesson. He sat beside you, slipping into his chair right before the syllabus slid onto the table in front of you.

Dark hair cut short in the back lived a little more free in the front, on the top, growing into a messier, curlier mop as the weeks drew by, on and on. Tall, broad, and most definitely strong as hell, he was gorgeous. There simply wasn’t any other word for it, he walked into class every week with his golden skin aglow no matter where the sun lived in the sky. You’d be lying if you said your stomach didn’t twist in knots watching his wide eyes scan the room, standing there near the doorway in a white t-shirt and dark blue denim jeans clasped to his waist with a leather belt.

What in the fucking Calvin Klein ad just walked in here?

Don’t sit next to me, don’t sit next to me, please don’t-

He wore Dior Sauvage, just enough of it to charm your eyes in his direction, the two of your glances meeting for only a few seconds, yet long enough to know that this was going to be a long semester.

After that first week, that first class, he showed up on time, sometimes even earlier than you, and sure enough he’d be in that seat and he’d offer you the tiniest smile while he pushed in his chair to let you pass behind him.

Did he own any clothes that fit?

It felt like every week he’d have on a new shirt that clung to him like seran wrap, every little chiseled sculpted by Michaelangelo notch in his body, his chest, completely and utterly visible. As if he didn’t know it, more than enough time in class he’d spend with his hands behind his head, his biceps tightening in his sleeves, bulging beneath the fabric that you waited to see rip.

Too often you’d have to tear your eyes away, too lost in wonder as to what kind of marvel sat beside you. Six foot something, perfectly built, not only did his appearance alone catch you off guard, but his ability to be so gentle. A smiley, sappy giant full of tooth rotting sweetness. Each raise of his hand, how he toyed with his pen between his firm fingers, the way he’d listen to other people speak — his eyebrows pulling up in the center, his eyes widening with wonder. He’d keep to his space, never once invading yours. Respectful, he knew to say hello, goodbye, would ask you quiet questions, like what page number you were on, and he’d give you thanks into oblivion.

It wasn’t until a month or so had passed that you realized it. One morning you stood in front of the mirror for too long, put a little too much effort into your makeup, into your hair. Spritzing a bottle of perfume to your wrist that you saved for special occasions, when the glass tapped back onto the shelf and you dabbed your wrists together, you gasped.

Damn.

Swapping the lacey sweater for something more casual, you know, for class, you pulled half of your hair up and back, letting some of it hang forward, praying to anyone who’d help that it didn’t look like you woke up before your alarm to get ready for a class you half cared about.

He noticed.

He sat down, walking in a few minutes after you, and his eyes lingered in your direction. Not that you could tell, nor were you paying attention, you were sitting backward in your chair with your nose in your phone. It wasn’t his fault he wasn’t good at being nonchalant like you’d been for nearly two months now.

Besides, it didn’t work. He didn’t say a word the entire class, only his hello and his goodbye.

It didn’t upset you. That’s what you told yourself, the lies you fed your brain to pretend to feel better. It didn’t upset you, he was a boy in a class you didn’t see anywhere else on campus. He probably had a girlfriend. Look at him, listen to him, he definitely has a girlfriend.

By the next class you were back to the usual, the snoozed my alarm twice before getting up in a rush, a hoodie and baggy jeans. Hair thrown up, makeup minimal, you accepted your fate.

You weren’t expecting him to be in the room first, you’ve narrowed down his time frame of entry, typically within ten minutes of the lecture starting depending on when you’d arrive. He was five minutes too early. Giving him the tightest smile, you shimmied behind his chair and mimicked his greeting, shoving yourself into your seat, not prepared for fifteen minutes of silence with him beside you.

Nose in phone, nose in phone.

It was all you could do to keep from gawking, for some reason he was fresher than normal. Black t-shirt, denim jacket on the back of his chair, silver jewelry hanging off of him. He wore a different cologne, one you couldn’t pick out, but god it was delicious you wanted to lick it straight off his neck. He definitely sprayed it to his wrists too, typical, you could lick it off of him there too, why not. Maybe even his chest. No- anything beneath that shirt that should be squeezing the air out of his lungs was lethal, how was every muscle visible? How could he walk around like that, he had to know that-

“Did you do the homework?”

Great.

You didn’t dress yourself up to keep the giddy high school level crush on the DL, but the way you jumped at his words and your cheeks warmed definitely helped. And, yes, you were staring.

“I, uh, yeah, I did.”

If he noticed anything, he didn’t show it.

“Mind if I see it to make sure I got it right? You’re better at this than I am.”

Juvenile, all of it, from the way he checked his answers to the way he slid your notebook back over to you with a shake of his head. Nothing else was shared, the class had begun and he focused on your irritating professor who assigned similar homework for the third week in a row.

Holding onto the way he spoke to you, the soft tone, the warmth in his eyes, the subtle graveliness he forced but then got rid of when he answered questions aloud, you truly felt seventeen years old all over again.

He asked you a question.

He talked to you.

Did he spend more time on how he looked for you?

No, it’s for his girlfriend. The one he definitely has.

The girlfriend that he-

“Whatever perfume you had on last week… I liked it.”

He didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t wait around for you to say anything. He scooped his books into his arms, and he walked out of the classroom, leaving you in absolute shambles. Nerves lived within you for a week, so many nights spent lying awake thinking about him, what he said to you, what you were going to do. If you wear the perfume again you’re setting yourself up for exposure, you may as well just tell him you have a crush on him to his face. But, then again, if you didn’t wear it, you’d lose his interest. He wouldn’t think you had an interest in him, and what if he told you that because he does have an interest in you?

Oh god.

What if he knows?

You wore the perfume. One spritz of it over your heart before you left your room, enough that he’d just be able to tell if he paid as much attention as he suddenly seemed to be.

Early again, beating you to a class you tried to get to even earlier today, you did not miss the small smile that pulled at his lips as you slipped behind his chair. It was the only thing shared all class, a smile somewhere in between lessons when he caught your eye. He had that same cologne on, the one from last week, the one that had you envisioning what it’d be like to have your tongue dragging all over his body, it was hard to not look at him.

Oh, he definitely knew.

And so it began.

For another month, perfume and cologne alike, worn every class, you started to share more than smiles. He’d lean your way for questions and answers, would ask about the homework, the assignments, sometimes when he didn’t even need it, asking for an answer he already had scribbled on his paper. Fighting the nerves, the way your belly filled with butterflies and did cartwheels within you, you started to share more than just classroom talk. While you worked you chatted, you learned where he was from, where he came from, where you came from and why you both were here.

He was funny.

Funny in the way he didn’t know he was funny, oftentimes asking you what he did to make you laugh like that. You’d cover your mouth and pray the giggles away, unable to tell him how adorable he really was.

He filled every shoe you profiled him with. Kind, sweet, funny, gentle giant.

Chiseled chest his cologne, the one you loved, radiated from.

But you didn’t figure that out until the following month.

Month four.

Four months was all it took, and he was yours.

Class whispers turned into coffee dates. Coffee dates turned into homework dates, which turned into dinner dates.

By the end of the third you were wrapped in his sheets, wrapped in him, cologne on your tongue and lips pressed to his, whispering confessions of how long you liked each other but both felt too nervous to say anything. Reveling in pride, that you weren’t as obvious as you thought yourself to be, his sparkling grin overtook his face and he whispered two words that cradled your heart.

“I knew.”

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

mornings with suguru feel like a pipe dream.

there’s something honeyed in the air, bleeding into the scent of freshly brewed espresso, fried eggs resting on the stove, newly bought flowers on the windowsill — apricot nectar heavy on your tongue, dripping down your lip in a sticky stream. his thumb reaches over to wipe it away before you can even try.

suguru is sitting right in front of you, looking like what dreams are made of. eyes a little bleary, mind still sinking into the reality of morning, hair put up into a messy bun; raven strands tickling his forehead and framing his eyes, warm and fond, a nice mocha brown. he’s wearing a white button-up, the scent of laundry detergent seeping into the fabric. he’s smiling, and you’re so in love you can barely breathe.

he always wakes up before you. always has breakfast prepared, or half-done, by the time you stumble into the kitchen on unsteady feet — you love clinging to his back while he cooks. but you love this even more.

outside the frail glass of your window, the world is subdued by the changing seasons. autumn is in full bloom, the sky enveloped by wet, molten clouds, a light layer of mist; on the ground are a row of golden trees. it’s a cozy, indoor kind of morning, the kind that makes your veins feel all sleepy, heart all tender, as if melted down by the gentle rain — the kind that has you sipping from your cup, rubbing your eyes, watching your fiancé from across the kitchen table.

there’s nectar on your tongue, espresso behind your teeth, and you wish you could open your mouth and speak. but you’re too tired, still far too groggy — far too sentimental. you can scarcely breathe. you can only sit there, and silently think: i could never love anyone like you. could never even come close.

do you have any idea what i’d do for you?

you’re sure he doesn’t. sure he prefers to see himself as your protector, not the other way around — that he’s most comfortable being a caretaker, rather than someone who gets taken care of. you know how he is. it’s in everything; the cup of coffee he made for you, the shirt he draped over you last night. his own, always, as if he thinks the fabric will bring you sweet dreams. it’s in the way he holds your hand when you cross the sidewalk, the way his thumb rubs over your knuckles when you’re anxious. it’s in the rain, gentle and comforting, watering your plant-like heart.

there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him.

nothing. absolutely nothing.

i’d drink a million cups of coffee, one after the other — i’d run out in the rain and pluck the apricots from every tree. i’d listen to that song you like. i’d listen to it until my eardrums bleed, and still wouldn’t stop.

nothing, nothing, nothing.

he turns his head, to gaze out the window, his bangs swaying gently as he does — and your gaze gulps down the lines of his jaw, the bridge of his nose, every flutter of his lashes. he parts his lips, and murmurs something about the weather. he’s smiling, a soft curve, his eyes just barely crinkled —

and you can’t breathe.

you’re so lovely it kills me.

your chest aches with yearning. you want to reach across the table and touch him, but you’re still too immobilized by how beautiful he is, how intense this love has come to feel. how devastating it is, to have this kind of life, to know you can do nothing but savour every bit of it. you can’t stop staring, drinking in his softened features, that content look in his amber-coloured eyes — the rasp under his velvety voice. your baby, your angel, your sun. 

(you want him to shine forever.)

when you look down at the table, there’s an open palm waiting for you. smooth skin, soft lines, gleaming under the dim glow of the kitchen lights. 

you look up, and suguru smiles.

he doesn’t speak until you’ve lifted your hand, tangled your fingers together with his. it feels good, the skin to skin contact, the sight of your rings pressed up against one another. his thumb begins to rub gentle circles into the knots of your knuckles, just the same as always. soothing, rhythmic, a mantra you’ve learned by heart.

”something on your mind?” he asks, softly.

(everything.)

”nothing,” you answer, a quiet lull of your tongue, averting your gaze with a heat to your ears. it’s too early for him to be so gorgeous, to aim his unbridled attention in your direction. ”i just love you…”

his lashes flutter, for a moment.

then his mind catches up to your words, and he laughs — breathy and sweet, the slightest gravelly residue. squeezing your palm in his own.

”i love you too,” he croons, lips curled upwards, and you swear you could never tire of hearing him say those words. ”is someone still a little tired, hm?”

”… maybe.”

a low chuckle. he tugs at your hand, gently, bringing it to his lips; they’re warm against your skin, his hot breath seeping out, gliding across your knuckles, stopping right by your ring finger. his eyes gleam with mirth, like the golden leaves just outside your window, pressed against the glass. his voice comes out as a purr. ”do you need another cup, my love?”

his lips trails down, all the way to your wrist, catching onto your pulsepoint. you can’t help but shiver.

”or should i wake you up just like this?”

he’s smiling, and something about it seems smug. he knows exactly how weak you are. and he must think he’s flustering you, acting so suave — but that’s not quite it. when he’s tilting his head like that, he looks more like a puppy than anything, so cute you think you might just melt right through the floorboards.

through the sleepy haze of your mind, to the tips of your fingers; your brain retaliates.

you tug his hand back, bringing yours with it; all the way to your puckered lips. lazily smearing a kiss on the inside of his palm, just barely catching the hitch of his breath, the inhale his heartbeat deigns to swallow down. it makes you smile, against his skin.

(and the tips of his ears bloom with heat.)

everything i need is you. the words are silent, unspoken, only barely mouthed against his skin. i don’t need the rain or the sun. just you, only you. 

when you pull away, your intertwined fingers finding their way back to the tablecloth, suguru gives you another smile. almost painfully tender.

you can’t help but feed into each other, like this. on sleepy mornings, when the words don’t come as easy, so actions are all you have. that, and loving gazes. all you can think is that you want more autumn mornings; you don’t want any of them to end before you’ve finished sipping from your cup of espresso, finished watching him from across the table. not until you’ve woken up enough to spill the words helplessly building up in the back of your throat, the butterflies stuffed in between your ribs. 

until then, this morning mantra will have no choice but to continue. until then, you’ll opt to stay silent.

until then, all you can do is stare.

(and all your mind can think, is nothing, nothing, could ever measure up to this. nothing in the world.)

[hyunsvngs]

𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲 - alpha!yang jeongin x omega fem!reader

wc: 6.2k

cw: a/b/o dynamics!, alpha jeongin, omega reader, pack alpha channie, pack dynamics overall, jeongin and reader are both desperate, jeongin gets kinda possessive, heat cycles & knotting

synopsis: you want the newly presented alpha jeongin to help you with your heat, but you're a little embarrassed - until you realise he desperately wants to spend it with you.

a/n: i wrote this in 2 nights and i was barking the whole time i'm in my jeongin feelings! sw under the cut 18+ MDNI

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: squirting, briefest fem rec oral, reader considers somnophilia, unprotected sex, copious amounts of breeding kink, a lot of slick, bath sex, doggy with his foot on her head, fingering (fem rec), dirty talk, riding, brief handjob, cum swallowing, choking, KNOTTING!!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Two hoodies, a pair of joggers, a sleeveless shirt, Felix’s pillow and two t-shirts, and it still feels like it’s not enough. You stare at your nest with a frown, foot thumping on the floor and a pout on your bottom lip. You need more, and it feels like your nest is particularly lacking in a certain scent - something fresh, floral, and not Hyunjin’s rose scent.

Your preheat has your pussy throbbing dully, head feeling a little disoriented, and you walk around in one of Chan’s t-shirts and your underwear and nothing else. You’re warm, not the type of warm you are when in the throes of your heat, but it still makes your skin slick with a thin sheen of sweat. Your nose twitches when you finally try to rearrange the items on your bed, but it’s still not enough. 

It needs more lavender, to be precise, but the idea of knocking on Jeongin’s door to ask the newly-presented alpha for one of his shirts makes your cheeks heat up even more. You’re too embarrassed, despite the whole pack knowing you’re entering your preheat - you can’t do that. Jeongin’s only just presented, and despite the fact you’d presented early and are younger than him, he was the baby. You saw him as your baby. 

Still, your thighs tremble a little as you lean over your bed. You may see him as your baby, but he’s definitely more than capable of taking care of an omega in heat. It’s in his instincts now.

You huff, exiting your room. It’s easy to beeline straight to Chan’s room and swing open the door, seeing him laying in his bed and scrolling through his phone. The mere idea of the thick alpha cock in his joggers has you wanting to whine, but you shake your head, crossing the room to his bed to pout.

He doesn’t acknowledge you until you’re sat cross legged, arms crossed over your chest, and when he does speak it’s with an amused tone. “What’s the matter with my little omega?”

“My preheat is making me crazy,” You avoid his eyes, staring at your lap. Your hands are knotted over your thighs, and you pick at your fingernails. He coos at you cutely, finally tossing his phone to the side and opening those broad biceps to welcome you close. Your Channie smells of the beach when you press your front into his, and he lets you straddle him. He’s shirtless because you’ve stolen his shirt. “Tryin’ to nest. Not good enough. It’s bad.”

“Now, I’m sure your nest is fine, baby,” Chan mumbles into your hairline, fingertips tracing up your back through your - his shirt. You mutter a few choice words back, and when his fingers go to the small of your back, it makes your pussy clench around nothing. Chan dutifully ignores the spike in your scent, kissing your forehead. “What’s wrong with it? Can alpha make it better, honey?”

You shift in his lap. “I don’t- I don’t have everyone’s things in there. It’s- it’s missing Innie. I don’t wanna ask.” Your words are muffled where you bury your face in his chest, and you want to bite him hard when he starts to chuckle. 

“Why don’t you want to ask?” He says, amused, and you kick your feet with a wail. He catches your legs with his toned thighs, trapping you between them, and you want to grind your clit all over him till you’re senseless from the show of strength. Damn preheat. “He won’t mind. He’ll like it, actually - you're treating him as one of your alphas now that he’s presented.”

“Wanted his stuff in there before anyways,” You insist, and Chan nods, humming.

“What makes it different now, hm?” His hands move to your ass, freeing you from the tight hold on your legs, and you do really gush a rivulet of slick this time. It makes you gasp, hips searching for something, anything, and Chan’s fingers just barely dip past the waistband of your panties. You raise your head, cheeks bright red, and Chan stares at you. His eyes darken, and he raises an eyebrow, before he’s smirking. “Oh, baby. You want our Iyennie for your heat?”

“N-no!” You stammer, shaking your head. “I never said-”

“You don’t have to say anything,” He muses, that stupid smirk still on his lips. You watch him run a hand through his hair, dark and curly and just as unruly as his sleep schedule. “Mm, I think it’d be nice to see, though. You know Felix helped him through his first rut? He was almost feral, baby, rutting into Felix like there was no tomorrow. Felix said he popped four knots on just the first day.”

Now, that makes you whine. Your head drops back to Chan’s chest, and you grind backwards to try and get his fingers further in your panties. Your mind is filled with the idea of Jeongin’s cock, thick and long and so alpha, his knot throbbing at the base and him fucking it into you until you’re joined together, filling you with loads and loads of his cum and-

Chan’s fingers move over your ass, finally dipping into your panties, and the pads of his fingers press against your hole. It flutters around nothing, and you leak more slick, your hips absentmindedly moving on his fingers to get some form of friction. Your eyes shut just barely, half lidded and glassy, and Chan lets out a little noise of approval at the look on your face. 

“Wanna know what I think?” Chan murmurs, and you make a strangled noise in response. “I think you need to ask our baby alpha to help you through your heat, baby.”

“Hnnng, yeah,” You respond, because there’s nothing else you can say. He’s right. That’s why it felt like such a stab in the heart when you didn’t have something of Jeongin’s in your nest - you want him so badly for this heat that it’s making your pussy gush more than you ever have, and your toes curl at the thought of it. “Yeah. Yeah, alpha, I will, just- for now, can- please, and-”

“I got you, baby. Lie there and let alpha take care of you.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You stand nervously wringing your hands together an hour and a half later. Chan didn’t pop a knot inside of you, but he fucked you and ate your pussy until you were sated and crying before washing you clean in the bath. He’s so caring, your pack alpha, and now you stand in front of Jeongin’s door with a blush high on your cheekbones again, a towel wrapped tightly around your head. You’re in a fresh pair of panties and one of Minho’s shirts this time, the alpha’s chocolate scent wrapping around your senses and sending you haywire. You still want lavender more than anything.

Jeongin swings open his door before you can knock, and he’s practically beaming at you. “Baby! I was just about to look for you. I found this show, and- oh. You’re really in it, aren’t you?”

You are. Your preheat is really pissing you off, and you know it could be tonight or tomorrow when your heat really kicks in. You don’t have time to sit around and be embarrassed about asking Jeongin, and he’s standing in a sleeveless shirt and sweat shorts. The scent of lavender hits you and your legs buckle, barely catching yourself on the doorframe. Your pussy’s gushing slick again, and the simple cotton panties you have on feel heavy with it.

“Innie,” You whine, rubbing your thighs together. Your slick has started to drip down to the tops of your thighs, and it makes you huff out an impatient breath. You need something, anything, and Jeongin’s just staring at you with a blank look on his face. “Innie. Innie, I- for my heat, you? I want you, can you- please? It’s okay if you don’t wanna, I get it, I just-”

“Of course I fucking want to,” Jeongin says instantly, and you can see him chubbing up in his shorts. You have to close your eyes before you jump his bones. “I- me, though? I’ve never fucked an omega during heat, baby, I- I want to so bad, but are you sure?”

“I’m sure, I’m sure, Jeongin, I want you. I want you so bad, fuck, my nest, please, please, please come with me, I can’t, I can’t,” You’re babbling, words slurring, but Jeongin nods as if he understood every syllable. You let him usher you away from his door and down the hallway towards yours, the show he was talking about completely abandoned, and when his large palm splays over your waist and holds you close to walk there you feel like you’re about to die. Sweat beads at your eyebrow and your vision goes dizzy with it, but Jeongin guides you, firm and strong like an alpha should always be. It makes your pussy throb and you have the fleeting thought that you could enter your heat now, surrounded by the young alpha and his lavender scent. 

You let him shut the door behind you, and then you’re jumping him. He lets you crowd him against your bedroom wall, only letting out a small noise of surprise when your lips attach to his and you’re kissing him filthy. Your tongue darts impatiently into his mouth, and he moves his hands to your hips, pulling you close. His hands are so big that his fingers splay over your ass, and you hear a few voices outside of your bedroom door. One sounds like Chan, and you’re momentarily filled with glee, hoping that he’s proud of you because you actually asked. 

When you finally pull away with a bite to his bottom lip, spit sticks the two of you together, and Jeongin scoffs out a laugh of shock. His eyes form crescent moons in his disbelief, but before you can ask him what’s so funny, you’re working on autopilot, yanking at the hem of his shirt.

“Off, off,” You insist, and he nods, letting you work his shirt off of him. You motion to your bed, trying to walk backwards with him clinging to you. “For my nest. My nest, alpha, see?”

“Beautiful nest,” Jeongin replies, his lips attaching to your neck. He sucks right over your scent gland and moans, deep and gravelly, and you let him push you backwards onto your bed. His shirt drops from your hand and lands right next to your pillow, and you want to giggle and kick your feet in delight when his scent envelops you more. “Beautiful omega, lettin’ me see you like this. Fuck, do you need- do you need something? Do you wanna kiss some more?”

“Mm, alpha, I need- need more, please,” You say, voice high and airy, and you watch his eyes roll back into his head at your tone. He’s never been with an omega like this, and you briefly think you need to cut him some slack, but you’re too busy pushing your panties down your legs. You toss them to the floor with a wet thud, and he finally pulls his face from your neck, fox-like eyes gluing on the space between your legs.

You can see him fully like this, planes of milky white skin exposed and clenching to a set of abs that have you keening. You reach out, and Jeongin grips your hand, running it down his stomach with a small smile. 

“Sexy alpha,” You muse, and he giggles delightedly, moving to lean over you again. He can’t believe you’ve let him have you like this so soon after his presentation, and it shows in the facial expressions he makes. You know your pussy is gushing slick that must reach through his sweat shorts and onto his cock, but he’s still ever the picture of self control, leaning up slightly to run two long fingers through your folds. 

“Sexy omega,” He retorts, and you feel his fingers dip into you just slightly. “Do you want it? This is okay, yeah?”

“Yes, yes, please- please, please, inside, please, Jeongin-”

“You don’t need to beg, baby, I know,” He pecks your nose sweetly, and then two fingers push into your hole, straight down to his knuckles. He twists them a few times in your sloppy pussy, lips parting at the sound of your pussy squelching, and you wail when he curls them against your g-spot. “Fuck, you’re- you’re really wet, are you sure you’re not in heat?”

“Not yet,” You shake your head, eyes glassy at the feeling of having something of him inside. This is what you needed - this is the pack mate you wanted, and he’s on top of you with his floppy brown hair and cute, plushy lips. He lets his teeth dig into his bottom lip when you moan at a particularly deep thrust of his fingers, his digits long and precise, and you know it’s not going to be long until you cum. Your head feels dizzy with it, preheat engulfing your senses and making you think nothing more than Jeongin, alpha, Jeongin, Innie, yours. “Innie, Innie, when I- when I go into heat, I want you to just take it, please! Take what you want, take me, I’ll present for you, I promise-”

“Fuck, will you?” He groans, hips rutting into your thigh. It’s the first loss of his self control, and it makes you gush down to his knuckles. He grinds his palm into your clit, wet and messy and sloppy, and your eyes roll back into your head. “Be a good breeding bitch for me, yeah? Alpha will take what he wants, baby, don’t worry.”

“Oh, oh- oh, p-please, please, I’m gonna cum,” You stammer, hips starting to grind into his hand. He yanks your shirt up then, exposing your tits, nipples hard and peaked, and he spits onto your chest. He rubs it in with his spare hand, barely holding himself up with his elbow, and you moan when you smell his scent spreading all over you as if he’s marking you. You want more, though. “Jeongin, alpha, alpha, lemme- lemme scent you, please? Please, wan’it when I cum, please!” 

He nods eagerly, and he slides a third finger into your fluttering hole just as he guides your head to his neck. You lick over his scent gland, messy and imprecise, and a well-calculated grind of his palm has you falling into the throes of your orgasm. You shake, keening all the way through it, and your pussy gushes more slick all over his digits. You almost feel bad until you hear the way he’s moaning back at you, letting you suck over his scent gland and get fully enveloped in him. 

You’re nearly drunk with it, and it takes an inhuman amount of strength that no omega should have to pull yourself away and tug impatiently at his shorts. Jeongin finally lets his fingers slide out of you, and then he’s using both big hands to wiggle the offending fabric down. You smile satedly when he leaves them in your nest, but then you’re gasping at the sight of him naked.

Jeongin’s big. You knew most alphas were, since Chan and Minho were, but his cock hangs heavy and leaking between his legs. His knot is fully formed already, waiting for you, and you moan, soft and needy. You make grabby hands at him until he’s settled between your legs.

“Fucking- shit, baby, you want it? I can- I knot a lot, I can still knot you through your heat,” Jeongin assures, and you let him push your legs backwards to spread you open. Your pussy is still creamy and messy, and you obediently cup your hands in the pits of your knees to give him a good look. Your clit throbs when he rubs his cockhead against it, peeking out of your folds with how swollen it is. With a small, impatient whine from you, he’s sliding home. He bottoms out instantly, and your clit rubs against the thatch of hair at his base deliciously. 

“Big,” You say, breathless, and Jeongin chuckles. “Big alpha cock. Mm, gimme, c’mon, fuck me with it.”

“I’m gonna fuck you with it. I’m gonna fuck you senseless,” He says, and then his hips are kicking up. All of his dance training has paid off, and his cock thrusts into you so fast your bed is squeaking. You’re happy you’ve had everyone else in the pack in this exact position already, otherwise your cheeks would burn crimson. You’re too busy whining and drooling all over your nest to care. “W-wet. Wet omega pussy, holy shit.”

“I’ll cum quickly, I’ll cum so quick, fuck- I’m gonna squeeze you so tight, alpha, I promise,” You wail, eyes finally leaking tears from the pleasure. His cock is heavy inside of you, and his head drops to your neck again, teeth just barely nipping at your scent gland playfully. With a shift of his hips, he’s fucking against your g-spot, and the feeling of his balls slapping against you drives you borderline insane. “Alpha! Alpha, oh, it’s s’good, s’good!”

“I know, fucking hell, baby,” He huffs, laughing in disbelief. “I’m gonna knot you. Fuck, baby, I can’t, I’ll last longer next time, I promise, just- let me knot you? Fuck, let me breed this cunt, please, omega, please, let alpha.”

“Alpha, please, yeah, yeah!” You babble, nodding impatiently, and his teeth bite into your scent gland firmer this time, just above Chan’s pack alpha bite. With another few thrusts, you feel his knot finally slot into your pussy, and the feeling has you squirting all over him again. You know he’s probably soaking with it, but the thought only makes you cum harder, especially when you feel his cock start to spurt hot cum inside of you. His knot causes it to leak out around his shaft, and you keen loudly, trying to grip his cock tighter with your hole to keep his load inside. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Jeongin coos, out of breath. His cock is still spurting inside of you, and his hips stutter to try and push it further inside despite the knot keeping him firmly in place. “I’ve got more cum for you later, pretty, I’ll give you my pups.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You wake up to the scent of lavender and pain in your tummy. It’s hit, you realise, no doubt spurred on by the alpha who’s let you sleep on his chest. You’re both still fully naked, his cock half-hard against the base of his tummy, and your pussy’s gushed a puddle onto Felix’s pillow. You almost feel a little guilty until you realise he’ll definitely just lick it clean and thank you for it.

Your limbs are still heavy with sleep, but you attempt to stretch out your legs. The movement just makes the cramps hit a little heavier, and you whine in pain, moving to scent Jeongin and try to calm your heat. You’re sweaty, a sheen beading on your chest and over your forehead, vision blurry, and Jeongin pulls you closer into his neck despite still being asleep.

Inhaling deeply, you run your hand down his stomach just like he’d made you do earlier. His muscles ripple under your touch and you feel like you’re about to go cross-eyed. You’re not even sure what time it is. Your phone is dead somewhere inside your room, and Jeongin discarded his own phone in his room when you’d jumped him. The memory almost makes you snicker, but the scent of lavender hitting your nose almost immediately quells the cramps in your tummy and you moan into his skin.

Feeling a little impatient, you let your hand run down to the base of his cock, fingers stroking over the thatch of hair. Would he let you, in his sleep? He’d been so caring, so willing to bend for your needs earlier. Could you just… straddle his lithe thighs, let his big cock slide into your hole and wake him up with his knot locking you together?

You’re so delirious with it you shake your head against his skin, sighing out a stuttered breath and trying to keep yourself together. You can’t wake him up, not now, not when he’s just treated you so well and is just getting some sleep. You shift on the bed again, trying to move away and calm down, but a hand moving to your hair has you gasping in surprise.

“Your heat’s hit, yeah?” He murmurs, voice heavy with sleep. It brings a deeper tone to your alpha’s voice that makes your pussy gush impatiently onto his thigh, and he treats you with a fond chuckle at the feeling. “C’mere. You wanna ride me?”

“Yes, yes, please, please, Iyennie,” You beg, and he nods, finally opening his eyes. They’re dark when he finally looks at you, his strong cheekbones only slightly illuminated by the streetlights outside, and you clamber on top of him. You’re so wet, dripping over his body until you finally grip the base of his cock and slide down onto him in one go. “Oh my god. Oh my god, alpha, oh my god, oh my god, big, big-”

“Ssh,” He comforts you, thumbs moving to rub circles into your thighs. “Bounce on it, baby. Let alpha wake up a little.”

So you do. Your hips bounce on top of him and you work yourself up into bliss. He just stares at you with half-lidded eyes, little grunts slipping from his lips when you hit it particularly deep and gush even more on top of him. 

“If you need it, you just take it,” Jeongin says, and you’re confused until you realise how he’d woken up to you in such a worked-up frenzy. “Take it whenever. It’s yours, omega, let me wake up to this messy pussy and I’ll- god, I’ll knot you whenever you need it.”

“I need it. I need it, I need it, oh, oh, alpha, I need it!” You wail, tits jiggling with your bounces, and Jeongin hums in response. He looks to be considering something, and after a long blink his eyes are open wider, more awake. With his alpha strength, he manages to pull you off of his cock, and you immediately begin to sniffle.

“Why? Why? You said I could, you said I could, alpha, you said-”

He’s flipping you onto your stomach in a quick movement, a growl leaving his lips when you just squirm on your tummy. Your pussy’s leaking even more now, and you’re crying, too, desperate for your lavender boy and his big cock.

“Remember what you said to me?” A large palm smacks your ass, and you squeak, pussy clenching and gushing. “Hands and knees like a good breeding bitch, c’mon, be a good omega for your alpha.”

“Oh, fuck,” You respond, quite intelligently, but then you’re deliriously pushing yourself up onto your knees. You arch your back for him, letting him see the way your hole flutters with emptiness, just slightly gaping from his thick length. 

“Fuck, baby, alpha’s gotta- I need to taste you,” Jeongin moans, and then his nose presses into you with a deep lick. He positively whines into your folds at the taste, tongue flicking over your clit and hand wrapping around your thigh to keep you supported. Your toes curl into the sheets, head dropping to your pillow with a loud, strangled moan. His t-shirt is still next to your pillow, and your nose buries into it, inhaling deeply with every moan he punches from your lungs. 

“Please, please, please,” You slur, muffled in his t-shirt, and he hums against your hole. It has you bucking back into his mouth, and when his mouth leaves you you really do sob this time. “Alpha, you said I don’t have to beg, being- being mean, being mean, Jeonginnie, Innie, why, why-”

You’re cut off by him sheathing his cock into your heat again, balls deep and heavy inside of you. He moans loudly, hand slapping down onto your ass again, and you whine in response, shaking your hips backwards onto him. It’s only a brief moment before he’s bunny-fucking into you just like he had earlier in the day, cockhead kissing your cervix with every thrust.

“Fuck. F-fuck, omega, do you always get this wet?” Jeongin keens, voice airy, and the break in his resolve has your head spinning. You squirm against him, and his hands move to your waist, trying to hold you still. “W-wet, wet, so wet, fuck. You’re making alpha’s cock feel so good baby, so pretty in your little nest.”

“W-wanted your things in it, Innie, wanted- wanted to smell you, I- please,” You’re babbling again, but you can’t help it, drooling all over Jeongin’s t-shirt while he fucks your pussy into oblivion. “I wanted you, Channie- Channie made me ask, and, and I was scared, and-”

“Never be scared, b-baby, not to ask me to fuck this little pussy,” He reasons, and you nod, whining. His cock presses deeper into you, and you feel him reposition on the bed, and then his foot rests on your head, pushing you down. “Is- is this okay, omega? Keepin’ you in place for me to fuck you, yeah? S-squirmy girl, you are.”

“‘S okay, ‘s so okay, so okay,” You try, but it’s still muffled. Your eyes are rolling back into your head at this point, your mattress squeaking and headboard thudding against the wall. Despite him holding you down you’re still trying to move, to grind your clit against something, anything, and you moan gratefully when one of Jeongin’s hands moves from your ass to underneath you, letting you grind your messy clit against his palm. 

“Make yourself cum,” He instructs, and you nod, fingernails digging into your nest. It must be a mess by now, laden with cum and your scents, but you don’t care - Jeongin will help you fix it later. You know he will, even through your delirious mind and your pussy gushing slick out over his cock and his knot. You still grind yourself downwards, feeling yourself inching closer and closer to your orgasm, and his foot holds you down harder. You whine, arching your back to the point it’s almost painful.

You feel it start to gush out of you before you even know it’s happening. “C-cumming! Cumming, alpha, alpha! I’m cumming, alpha, please, please-”

“What are you begging for?” Jeongin chuckles deliriously, hand smacking your ass. “Let it all out, a-all over me, all over your alpha’s cock. Give it to me, that’s it.”

You do. Your pussy gushes over and over, and with a loud growl, Jeongin’s knotting you again. His knot swells to the point that you know it’s going to be a stretch, and it slides inside with a wet noise before he’s filling you with his cum again. It’s thick, abundant, but his knot is so big this time it keeps it nice and secure inside of you.

“Fuck, breedin’ you nice and full, yeah?” He murmurs, and you nod satedly, your eyes fluttering shut. You could sleep like this, especially when he finally repositions you to lay with your back to his chest on your side, his knot steadily pumping cum inside of you. Part of you hopes it takes despite your birth control. His hand rubs over your tummy, and he snickers when he rubs one finger over your clit and makes you whine in overstimulation. 

A few minutes pass, and Jeongin manages to slide out of you, leaving your pussy gaping and messy. You want to make a noise of dissatisfaction, but you’re too tired, your heat leaving you sleepy and Jeongin leaving you satisfied.

“C’mon,” Jeongin huffs, fingernails tracing over the small of your back. “Let me run you a bath, omega. A bath and then food, yeah?”

“Hnnnfg,” You murmur, eyes fluttering shut. He’s fucked you so good it’s got you feeling floaty, heat completely sated until the next wave of arousal hits you. “‘M tired, Innie.”

“A bath and then food. That’s it, I promise. Let me take care of you.”

You can’t say no. You swing your heavy limbs to the side of the bed and follow Jeongin to where he’s fiddling with the bath taps, running you a nice, warm bath. He lets you press your face into his neck from behind to keep you grounded while he gets it sorted for the two of you, and you wrap your arms around his middle with a happy grin on your face. When he finally guides you into the bath with nothing more than a kiss on the cheek, you’re happy to stretch your legs out and let him wiggle in behind you.

“Ah, there. Feels good?” He questions, tucking your hair behind your ear, and you nod. He pecks your cheek again, before he’s using plain water to reach up and massage over your thighs. The movement doesn’t get you horny again, but moreso relaxed, and you lean your head back onto his shoulder while he looks after you. 

A knock on the door snaps you both from your serene moment, and Jeongin lets out a noise of surprise. You protest agitatedly, but make a noise loud enough to let the other person know they can enter.

Chan pokes his head in, eyes soft but fond. “I’m just checking everything’s going okay. Omega, how are you feeling?”

“I’m good, Channie-”

“Hyung,” Jeongin grumbles, hands wrapping tightly around your middle. The strength of it makes you squeak, eyes widening comically. “Please go. Not right now.”

“Iyennie,” Chan begins firmly, but seems to falter at seeing the look in his eyes. He chuckles awkwardly, scratching his neck. “Are you sure? I can help, or-”

“Hyung,” Jeongin says, firmer, and when you manage to crane your neck to look at him his jaw is set in a deep line. He’s getting possessive, you realise, not wanting Chan to be involved in your heat this time around or be anywhere close to you when you’re relaxing. The realisation has you heating up again, even in the bathwater, and you reach a hand up to grip Jeongin’s wrist. 

“I’ll set off,” Chan recognises, eyes flickering between you two. “Love you both.”

“Love you Channie,” You murmur, pussy throbbing between your legs where they’re splayed over Jeongin’s, and when the door shuts again he’s pouncing on you. 

“Heat hitting again?” He questions casually, but the heavy breaths he’s letting out on your shoulder and the hard cock pressing against your back has you knowing he’s anything but casual. You nod in response, and he pulls you around by your waist, making you face him. The steam from the bath has caused his hair to be slightly damp, and you push it back from his features, taking in just how handsome he is - and he really is like this, all domestic and boyish for you. His bottom lip is a little pouty, and you kiss it chastely, before you’re reaching down to grip his cock. 

“I gotta- next time, in your rut, let me,” You murmur against his mouth, still a little lucid despite the new wave of heat hitting. “I need to- to worship this cock, and suck it, and-”

“Fuck, omega,” He cuts you off, groaning, deep and gravelly. You pump his shaft a few times, but you’re too impatient, wiggling onto his lap further to let his cock press against your clit. It’s swollen and achy already, and with another moan Jeongin grips the base of his cock himself and guides it into your soppy hole. You’re still gaping a little from the previous time, but your lavender boy acts as if it’s the tightest hole he’s ever fucked into, a gasp leaving his lips. “Ah, there’s that pussy. I almost started missing it.”

You giggle breathlessly, forehead resting against his as you start to grind on his lap. The bathwater sloshes around you, some hitting the floor, but you can’t find it in you to care. His cock hits you deep like this, and you let out a sigh at the way his swollen cockhead presses against your g-spot. “I m-missed your cock already, alpha.”

“Yeah?” He muses, lips moving to messily kiss at your neck. “Ride it like you mean it then.”

You can’t help yourself. You start to bounce, and Jeongin’s lips latch onto your nipple immediately. He licks over the sensitive bud and you moan loudly, not caring who hears you over the sound of the rippling bathwater, and when he pulls away with a light bite of his teeth to your nipple it makes you gush fresh slick all over his cock, down to his balls. There’s still that interaction with Chan on your mind, though, and you have to ask about it.

“Innie,” You say, breathless, and he hums in response. The noise reverberates around your breast, where he remains with lips parted just above it, and you bounce a little harder in response. “Y-You didn’t want Channie to see me.”

Jeongin grabs your hips then, sharp and firm, and starts to thrust upwards. The movement really does make the water start to pour out of the side of the bath, and you move your fingers to dig into his shoulders for support. He smirks at you knowingly, and thrusts so hard it makes you jostle in his lap. “I didn’t want him to see us. You’re mine this time around.”

You wail, loud and incoherent, and you start to feel your head getting dizzy again. Your alpha looks after you, hand moving to your neck. You gasp when his grip tightens around the column of your throat. His hand holds you down onto his lap as he thrusts relentlessly into your pussy, wet and aching, and you can’t help the amount of slick flooding out of you. 

“Do you like being mine? Just for a few days?” He questions, chest heaving, and you nod eagerly. You realise your fingernails must be scratching him, and when you look to his shoulders you can see the slightest bit of blood on his milky skin, but he seems more bothered about getting you to cum on his cock again. “Fuck- I can’t- baby, I can’t knot you in here, it’s not comfortable-”

“L-let me swallow it,” You whine, barely audible from his tight grip on your throat. He lets go of you then, but doesn’t stop thrusting into you, letting out a loud groan. “Alpha, alpha, let me swallow it, let me taste it, please-”

“I’m gonna cum soon, omega, I’m close, fucking- baby, cum, cum for me, please?” Jeongin’s eyes are glassy, his bottom lip covered in spit, and you whimper, nodding. Your fingers move to your clit, and you start to rub in the same rhythm he’s fucking you in, feverish and fast. 

It doesn’t take long until you’re shaking through yet another orgasm given to you by your alpha, breathless noises leaving your lungs, and then he’s pulling out. Your pussy clenches with the loss, empty and upset, but he’s quick to scramble from under you and stand out of the bath. 

He stands in front of you, stripping his cock, his knot just barely inflated at the base. “Suck the tip, just the tip, just the tip.”

You lean over pliantly, sucking his cockhead into your mouth, and he groans. His hand moves to your hair, pulling it back slightly, and when you look at him through your lashes he’s done for. He spills into your mouth, messy but not too much given that he didn’t knot you, and he groans through his orgasm until his cock starts to go soft. He pulls out of your mouth gingerly, and you lick your lips clean. 

Even half hard, it’s still a spectacle, and you scrabble to try and get his cock into your mouth again. Jeongin only pushes you off playfully by your forehead, before he’s leaning down to kiss you, a lot more innocent than any of your prior kisses. 

“Mm,” He moans against your lips, and then he’s kissing your forehead, nose and cheeks, all in a triangle. When you pull away, he’s grinning, eyes scrunched up in that silly little smile he does. “Shall we actually get clean now?”

You giggle, leaning backwards against the other edge of the bath. The bathwater sinks to your breasts, and you try to ignore the way his eyes falter down to them. “It might be a good idea. Get back in?”

“You’re a heathen,” He says, trying to be condescending, but that smile is still on his face. “We can’t fuck in here again. The bathwater will go cold, and I actually want us to get clean and have some food so that we don’t die. Sounds good?”

“I’ll try to keep my hands off you,” You smile, wide and toothy, and he points an accusing finger at you when you look down at his shaft again. 

“Watch yourself, omega.”

“Yeah, like that’s not gonna get me turned on again,” You huff playfully, and Jeongin only tackles you into the bath and kisses your cheeks again. He leans his forehead against you, and you can see he’s blushing despite his playful front.

“Clean-up time, okay?”

[simpforrooster]

nothing but a gentleman.

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x F!Reader

summary: jake is obsessed with you. you eat it up. you’re obsessed with his obsession. but also with him.

t/w: soft!jake, some cursing

"Get out of here, Bagman. You're giving me a headache."

The blonde aviator grabs at his chest. "God, I love it when you're mean to me." Those green eyes sparkle with mischief under the lights of the Hard Deck.

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin has been pining after you for months.

& you have been loving every second of it. Miramar's resident playboy has only had eyes for you. You haven't seen him spare a glance at any of the other ladies in the bar.

Believe me, they've been looking at him.

"Y/n, how long are you going to keep my boy at arm's length?" Coyote asks from the other side of the pool table. Jake saddles up next to him and feeds you the saddest pout he can muster.

"Yeah, y/n, how long?" Jake asks.

Your intention wasn't to drag this hard-to-get play out for so long. Truthfully, it's becoming hard not to give in to those strong arms. To not lean in when he invades your personal space, feeding you a smart ass comment.

Your shoulder comes up to your ear and falls back down. "Hard to say, Bagman."

"Let's play for it," he tells you. Jake saunters over to you, and leans against the pool table. Crossing his arms over his fit chest, he situates his mouth just outside your ear. "If I win, you've gotta give me a kiss, darlin'."

The way his hot breath falls across your ear causes goosebumps to appear down your arms. Jake notices, and a blonde brow raises.

"What are you? Twelve?" you antagonize.

"Oh, honey. I'm willing to try anything at this point."

"Rack 'em. Honey." You lightly shove him back, your hands reacting to the small second they were on his chest.

"If I win, you give it up," you send the man a sad look.

"Give what up?" he asks.

"All this pining'." Your hand gestures wildly around in the air.

For a moment, despair crosses over that handsome face. He recovers quickly. "Oh, I'm not worried."

Jake lets you break. Two stripes fall into the pocket. Jake comes up behind you before your next shot. His hand slides across your waist and he pulls you into his side.

Right as you pull back, Jake leans down. "Don't scratch."

The cueball follows your striped ball into the pocket.

"Damn," he murmurs. It takes a full 45 seconds to get your heart rate under control.

The jig is up once Jake get in control of the pool table. Not only is he the dagger squad's best dart player, he's got the best pool table on lock, too. There is no way he's going to take it easy on you.

Naturally, he doesn't.

"One more and Hangman gets a kiss," he smirks. He doesn't take his eyes off your as he pulls back and send the cue ball sailing.

The eight ball falls into it's intended pocket effortlessly. Followed right by the cue ball.

Shock falls across all your faces. Jake has never lost a game of pool. Ever.

Jake sets the cue stick down, and rounds the table. Standing toe-to-toe with you, he feeds you a delicious smirk.

"Darlin', I ain't gonna make you kiss me if you don't want to. Furthermore, I only want your kiss if its of your own volition." He tucks a strand of stray hair behind your ear.

Your eyes lock with his and the world stops. What a fucking gentleman.

Fisting the front of his shirt, you yank him down to your mouth. Jake relaxes into the kiss immediately and allows his hands to slide around your waist.

Jake takes control, changing the direction and deepening the kiss. Your hands move from his shirt to the nap of his neck, fingers knotting in his hair. His hair that’s gotten just a bit long.

Jake pulls back just a hair, his lips a breath away from yours. “Damn,” he mumbles, again.

“My own volition, huh?”

“I’m nothing if not a gentleman,” he winks. “A gentleman who is dying to kiss you again.”

You guide his lips back to yours.

“Kiss me, Hangman.”

master list.

a/n: been a little while since i wrote for ole jakey. i hope y'all like it!

[rachalixie]

a/n: cracks knuckles busting out some rusty writing skills for a teeny comfort thing. imagine changbin in a comfy hoodie. eee. tw: mental health, hurt/comfort

“bin,” you reach a hand out towards him in a greeting as he walks through your front door, palm upturned for him to take. “come here?”

“what if i don’t want to?” he teases, a normal thing for your typical dynamic with him. usually, he’d tease and you’d tease back, going back and forth for a bit. usually, he would relent within a minute, giving in to your every desire like he was fundamentally unable to disobey you. usually, you’d be within his arms within mere seconds, and the conversation that preceded it would be forgotten. 

but today, with the way your head has been jumbled into knots since you woke up, his words seem real. hot, traitorous tears well in your eyes as you turn away from him, curling your hand into your stomach. you blink rapidly, trying to clear the blur in your vision, and you nearly miss him rounding your couch and crouching in front of you. 

“hey, you know i didn’t mean it,” worry drips off his words and that makes you feel worse; he cups your face in his palm and runs his thumb under your eye, but it comes away dry. you don’t want to let the tears fall. 

“sorry, i-” your breath catches on the word and a horrible mix of shame and embarrassment takes over, making your body deflate completely. “i don’t know.”

but you do know. you want him to know without having to say it. you want him to understand everything, for him to know when things are wrong even before he lays eyes on you. you want him to know which one day out of every hundred that you can’t handle banter, you want him by you all the time and you want him to want to be there. but above all else, you want to not be a mess like this. 

“that’s okay,” he soothes, leaning forward to press a kiss to your head. he lifts you up and spins, plopping down and pulling you with him until you’re straddled on top of him. his arms cage you against his chest, every inch of you feels connected to him, like a soothing balm for injuries that your eyes can’t see. he doesn’t ask if it’s okay, doesn’t check to see if you want to be left alone, because despite your worries he does know you. 

you let out a sigh into his t-shirt, replacing your breath with the scent of his laundry detergent. you try and focus on his heartbeat, letting the thumps of life under his skin wash away any coherent lines of thought. 

“whatever is happening in here,” he bumps his chin against the top of your head gently. “is real. you’re not crazy, okay?”

“feels like i am,” you mumble, burrowing further into him. you don’t have it in you to argue. you don’t fully believe him, but his perception of you matters more than your own. 

“it’ll be okay,” he says, and despite his constant claims that he never knows the right thing to say, it’s working well enough right now. “this will pass, you know it will.”

“what if it doesn’t this time?” it’s a constant worry, that the way when things are okay will never come. 

“then we will figure it out together,” he takes a breath and your body moves along with him like riding waves. “i’m not letting you go anywhere without me by your side.”

it’ll be tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that where you will wake up and be able to breathe on your own again. but today, like every one in a hundred day that comes like this, he can breathe for you.

[covetyou]

howl-o-ween

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader  rating: Explicit (18+ only!)  warnings: sex toys (a cock sleeve like this one), unprotected P in V, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), squirting, creampie, Joel in a dress, reader likes Joel in a dress, teeth as a euphemism for balls, talk of knots but this is not a/b/o, fluff. word count: 6k summary: The light beckons you over like a moth to a flame, and your weary bones follow, taking you across three lawns and up the steps, straight into the arms of Joel Miller.

A/N: a few months ago @missredherring said "how do you feel about those werewolf dildos?" and changed the entire tragectory of this fic. thank you, I love you 💛 this one's for you bb, and that beaut of an oracle card you pulled, position and all.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

The porch light is on when you get home and pull into your empty driveway. It was like a beacon - drawing your eye where it so often drew all of you; across three lawns and straight up the steps to Joel's front door.

Though, this time, it's not lit for you. It's not there to guide you through the darkness and into his waiting arms. And, though you'd never admit it, you feel oddly territorial about it - jealous. That's your light. Except, for today, it's not.

Today, it's illuminated for the swathes of little ghouls and beasties that have been stomping the streets in search for treats, swarming like a plague of locusts on each household until candy buckets were empty and one by one, the lights shut off.

But not Joel's.

You try to push it to the back of your mind as you fumble with your keys in the darkness of your own front porch, and stash yourself away inside to wearily climb the stairs to wash the day away. The shower you take is hot, yet the heat does nothing to stop you thinking of him, wondering whether that light was just a forgotten detail of the day or a beckoning call to the only person who would really understand it.

Even when you step out from the stream of water and stretch, pushing deep into one hip and another, all you can think about his him and how much better he could make all of this. The pains he could soothe, the emptiness he could fill, the ache between your legs he could make so much, much worse.

That's how you end up standing at your front window, face pressed to the glass, staring at the light that's still taunting you, wondering if maybe it is on for you after all.

It's also how you end up halfway down your driveway before you even think to call or text him.

And, as you step onto his porch in mismatched pajamas, unlaced shoes, and a flannel shirt that wasn't your own, you think you're somehow the most strange and yet most normal thing to have climbed up here tonight. There's no witches hat or vampire teeth. No empty bucket in your hand or silly t-shirt.

No, it was just you - tired eyes and all, hoping that the light that had been a signal to them was now a signal to you, and that he'd be happy to see you.

There's a shuffling stomp behind the door after you knock. Then, it's swinging inward so suddenly you jump back as something distinctly Joel-sized growls from behind a black net, only to stop with a surprised cough when you stare at it with wide eyes. One large hand tugs the net down and tosses it to the side, and the toothy grin of a dark eyed wolf greets you in the doorway.

It's undoubtedly Joel. You'd know those shoulders anywhere, even if they are beneath the prettiest pink dress you've ever seen. You look him up and down, eyes darting from the bonnet on his head, the stifling plastic mask strapped to his face, before pulling down his chest, following pink all the way down until pink turns into the gray of well worn sweatpants.

With a huff, he tugs at the mask, yanking it from his head to reveal ruffled hair, rosy cheeks, and a bashful look in his eye that says he's almost embarrassed to see you.

"Thought you were a trick-or-treater," he says, with a nervous rub to his neck.

"And I thought you were my Grandma."

"Very funny," he says, rolling his eyes and pulling you in toward him, closing the door the second you're in over the threshold. "Been waitin' for you."

If that wasn't the confirmation you needed, it is when he snaps the porch light off and leans down to kiss you against the wall, pinning you there with one broad hand to your waist while the other latches and locks the door.

"Joel, what about Sarah," you say after a moment, turning your head from the heat of his kiss.

"Little Red ain't here. Last minute change of plans. Her mom came to pick her up for some party her neighbor was throwin' for the kids. Been on solo door duty all evenin', killin' time waitin' for you."

You kiss him then, tugging at the curls at the back of his neck while his hands roam under the flannel shirt you'd stolen from him some weeks ago, feeling up and down the curve of your spine as you arch into him. Where you had felt so exhausted moments ago, you now feel energized, ready to leap at him and let him do as he pleased with you, even if it was right here against the door.

"So..." you mumble into his mouth, through soft kisses neither of you seem to be able to resist pressing to each others mouths. "You've been by yourself... for four hours... in a dress?"

Joel stops kissing you the moment he feels your lips twist upward into a smile.

"What if I have? Problem with that?" he says, with a quirk to his eyebrow as he stares down at you, still pinned to the wall.

Briefly, you consider if you really do have a problem with it. Mostly because you realize, as you look at him and the dress wrapped around him, that you really, very much, do not have a problem with it at all. Even in swathes of pink and frills, he's beautiful, and you can't stop thinking about the shape of him hidden beneath the loose drape of fabric.

"No," you say with a shrug, trying to keep the heat out of your cheeks. "You look great. Pink suits you, Grandma Joel."

A growl makes it's way up Joel's throat and he nips at your lips, tilting your head back with one strong hand and grabbing your wrist as your fingers plays idly with the fabric of his dress with the other.

"Do not call me Grandma," he says, pulling your hand down to the front of his skirt. "Feel like a Grandma to you, darlin'?"

"I can't say I've ever felt a Grandma before but - Oh, my," you say with a smirk, catching Joel's eyebrow raised in warning. You grind your palm gently against him, wiggling your fingers down and down, cupping the heft of his balls, feeling as the blood that was reddening his cheeks pumps to his cock, thickening it beneath your hand. "What big... teeth you have. Very big teeth."

"You sure about that?"

You nod into the cradle of his hand, his fingers scratching gently at your scalp as you tease and taunt him. "Uh-huh. Biggest teeth. Best teeth. My favorite teeth, actually."

"Never had any teeth you like better, huh?" he says, holding back a laugh.

"Never," you say, grinning back. "Question is, are they still your own teeth, Grandma?"

He growls again then, spinning you from the wall and scraping his teeth against your neck. He moves you back - further from the door and further into his home, guided only by the flickering light of the TV. He sucks the blood to the surface on your neck, bruising you while you sigh and turn to putty into his arms and then, with a sharp pinch to your ass and a swift smack that sends the muscle jiggling, he's pulling back and pushing you toward the stairs.

"Get your ass upstairs. I'll give you fuckin' Grandma."

You practically squeal in delight, cackling as you kick off your shoes and make a run for the stairs, legs quaking as you try to take them two at a time, give up half way and scramble up the rest of the way with your hands.

At the top, you turn to look at the smirking figure of Joel.

"Are you gonna come eat me, Grandma Joel?"

You can hear as he cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders, clicking his tongue against his teeth. You can barely hold in your giggles as he tries to look menacing in that pink dress, slowly ascending the stairs and staring daggers into you.

"You're lucky you're so damn cute, or there'd no fuckin' chance I'd be getting hard enough to give you what you're actin' out for," he grumbles, having to lift the skirt above his knees to stop himself from tripping.

"Is Were-Joel better?" you say through a laugh, taking a step back as he finally towers above you again when he reaches the top of the stairs and drags you toward his room.

Pulling you inside, he claims your mouth with a bruising kiss, cradling your head in his two massive hands while his tongue licks into your mouth.

"Were-Joel is stupid, but yeah," he mumbles into you, "Were-Joel is better."

Together, you make quick work of your own clothes. The flannel is the first thing to go, tossed straight onto Joel's laundry hamper for him to deal with. You'd steal another soon anyway. Your pajamas follow - t-shirt dumped on the floor and shorts pulled low enough for you to wiggle them the rest of the way down and kick them off the end of your feet. You moan the moment Joel's warm, rough hands connect with your bare skin, grabbing every part of you he can reach. He gropes your breasts in both massive hands, puckering the flesh with the soft grip of his fingertips, while your hands find his neck and scratch. He groans, stretching into the itch of your nails across his skin.

The front of Joel's dress has started to tent. You can feel it every time he grinds forward, pushing you back until you're forced to hop up onto his bed, legs spread so he can slot between them.You hold yourself to him, scratching through the pink fabric while his soft bulge stiffens with each roll of his hips into your clothed core.

Then, when he goes to yank the dress over his head, you stop him, gripping tight to his hands and sheepishly shaking your head.

"Leave the dress on? Just for a little bit."

Your face is hot as you say it, and Joel's inquisitive look turns to a laugh, then a smile, crinkling his eyes just before he gently bumps his nose into yours.

"Yeah?" he says. "You really like it, huh?"

You shrug, "Pink's your color."

"Really? S'the color that does it for you."

"Careful."

"Careful?" he taunts, licking his tongue across his teeth and looking you up and down. "Or what?"

He's still between your legs. He's still hard, he's still looking down at you, and he's still between your legs. Taking a deep breath, you try not to let the heat of him distract you, or the way he looks at your near naked body as you straighten your shoulders and look him straight in the eye. "Or I'll... huff and I'll puff and I'll blow you...r house down."

You hear his eyes as they roll in his head, and you have to stifle a laugh with a hard bite of your bottom lip.

"Come on. Ain't even the same fairytale any more, darlin'."

"So?"

"So, as the only wolf around here, and given you ain't got anythin' for me to blow, I best get to eatin'."

You fake gasp and clutch a hand to your chest, giving him a scandalized look as you try to mask the not so subtle way you feel the muscle of his arm flex beneath your other hand.

"No, Gran- Were-Joel, don't eat me. I promise I don't taste good."

"Now that's a damn fuckin' lie," he says just as your world is tipping on it's head, your legs pushed back and toppling you back onto his sheets in fits of laughter. "Best pussy I've ever tasted."

Forcing a deadpan look onto your face, you sit up on your elbows while he tries, and fails to grab hold of your panties. "Oh," you say. "Oh, we're talking about that kind of eating?"

One long, slow blink from Joel later, and you're laughing again, curling in on yourself, while he gives up with your panties and instead pulls down his sweatpants beneath the dress, and kicks them away.

"You're gonna be the death of me, you realize that, right?"

The touch of his lips to your thigh calms your giggles in an instant. Then, when the scruff on his cheek brushes your other thigh, you let your legs fall apart.

"There she is," he murmurs between your legs. "You gonna stop playin' around and let me take care of her now?"

You nod down to him, breath suddenly stolen from you as you look down at Joel, pretty in pink.

"Good."

With that, he presses a kiss to your clothed mound, taking a deep breath and mumbling something you think sounds like "so fuckin' good", before working fingers under the waistband and pulling them off your legs, leaving you totally nude.

"So fuckin' beautiful," he says, as he lowers himself to the floor between your legs. "Get more beautiful every time I see you, y'know that?"

His lips suck at your inner thigh then, nipping the skin before he trails kisses up higher and higher, tugging you slightly to pull you down the bed and closer to his waiting mouth. You're in half a mind to joke about your pussy being flattered, but you know the time for jokes is over, and that what he said he very much means, when you look down to see his dark eyes staring straight back at you before he makes that first, delicious swipe of his tongue across your cunt.

He starts softly. Kitten licks to your labia, slowly tasting all of you, before kissing around your clit were it waits for him, less and less patient as his teasing goes on. His thick fingers rest on your thighs, kneading and stroking the delicate skin while is tongue flicks out to make a tentative, soft lick over your clit. Then, he's sucking it into his mouth, releasing, licking, and kissing it before starting the cycle all over again, making out with the sensitive nub and suckling away at it while you start to moan and sigh beneath him.

You were right. This was the exact kind of ache you wanted him to give you. Throbbing, deep, and desperate. Each swipe of his tongue making you want more. A self fullfilling prophecy of tongue fucking you into oblivion, and you wish you had the patience to stay here forever, to not want to be pushed over the edge by him and his wicked tongue.

He parts you with his thumbs, spreading you wide and using the digits to dip inside ever so slighty, igniting your core and making you whine for more. He gives it to you - one finger slipping into his mouth and coming out slick before tentatively dipping into your hole, fucking you with the tip until he can sink it down to the knuckle.

Sliding another finger in, he circles your clit with a soft tongue, fingers moving slowly as they stretch you. You arch your back into him, already feeling the tightness in your belly coil, ready to snap the second he picks up momentum.

"Two good?" he murmurs, breath ghosting over your twitching clit.

The noise you make is neither a yes or a no. Two is good, but you're not really sure two is enough. There's a stretch you're craving, you think, and you don't quite know how to put words to it, so your vague "ungh" will have to do.

Somehow, despite not even really knowing yourself, Joel does.

"Want more? I can give you more, darlin'," he says, slipping in a third finger, letting the stretch ease as you groan through it, before pumping them gently and returning to his steady, measured licks over your clit.

That's it, you think, and your eyes are closing, sending you away with the sensation of Joel between your legs, fucking his fingers deep and flicking his tongue against your swollen clit again, and again, and again.

Your fingers are gripping the sheets, your head is turning from side to side, your back arching as you whine and quiver, begging Joel for something, anything, and then the pace picks up, the delicate circles of his tongue turning firmer until your feet are pressing into the mattress and you're pressing into his face, the orgasm you were chasing smashing into you while you fuck yourself against his fingers, his mouth.

Then, he's pulls the wet heat of his mouth off of you, kissing all around your dripping pussy as it pulses around his fingers, your legs now floppy and boneless.

"Y'good?" he pants, sliding his fingers from your core and giving you one final lick, tasting your slick hole and nudging his nose into your clit, humming a laugh when you twitch with sensitivity.

"So good," you slur, watching him stand up, pink dress creased at the knee, and a distinct darker pink spot right at the tip of the prominent tent in the fabric.

You're very awake suddenly, when you see it.

"You can take it off now," you say, not bothering to look him in the eye when something much more important has your attention.

"Can I?" he teases, wiggle the dress up to his knees before dropping it down again.

"Take off the fucking dress, Joel."

You can't explain how much you want him in this moment. Your slick is still on his fingers and his chin, and he's rock solid for you beneath the dress and you think that, somehow, he's never looked better. Only, you think - no, you know - he'd look better with the dress off now, wearing nothing but you sheathed around his cock.

He grabs at his crotch through the dress, gripping around his length so you can see the outline of him clear as day, a trail of wetness pulling up from the bigger patch that had been forming.

"It's Were-Joel," he teases.

"Take it off, Were-Joel."

He does. One second its around his broad shoulders and the next it's off, thrown somewhere behind him, and he's completely naked, cock standing to attention in front of him, the tip slick and shiny with pre-cum.

"This what you after?" he says, holding the thick shaft by the base and shaking it toward you.

"Just give me your werewolf cock already, Were-Joel," you joke, reaching for him and spreading your legs shamelessly for him. "Or I swear, I'm gonna start howling."

You can practically see the lightbulb flick on above his head.

"Oh, I got somethin' to give you alright," he says, and you watch his work-toned back as it retreats into the bathroom, ass wiggling with each step.

"Don't you dare, Joel," you say as the door pulls closed, leaving you there on the bed. "Joel!"

Of course, you could get up and follow him. You could throw yourself back and get frustrated with being left so suddenly.

Instead, all you feel is excitement as it creeps up your toes, wiggles its way through your belly, and settles at the back of your throat in an excited, stifled, giggle. You hadn't had a surprise from Joel in some months and, while the sex was excellent, there was something thrilling about not knowing what he'd come out with next. You already knew there were some secrets he was keeping - he never did let you into his toy drawer unsupervised - but knowing you were very likely about to get treated to one of the many weird and wonderful toys Joel had was making you giddy.

You just about stop the excited vibration of your legs when Joel comes out of the bathroom. You're not sure what you expected, but at first glance, you don't see much of anything wrong.

Even when he tosses a bottle of lube onto the bed behind you, you can't see anything different. It's only when he turns to the side before climbing up beside you that you see the seeming deformity to his cock - a large bulge near the base that definitely wasn't there before.

Then, you see the silicone ring hugging his balls, and it all clicks into place while Joel looks at you with amusement.

"Oh my god," you say, staring at it with your mouth open.

If it wasn't clear silicone, maybe you would've seen it more easily. The lump is sheathed over his dick on a cock sleeve, held to him with a cockring fitting snugly over his balls, and sat right at the base of him where you so liked to sit yourself.

"Wanted a werewolf cock, didn't you?" he says, grinning lopsidedly while you stare. "Remembered I had this thing."

"There's no way I can take that, Joel," you say, finally looking up at him now that he'd climbed beside you, hands skating over your body again now that he was finally close enough.

"Don't have to take all of it, darlin'," he says, kissing your shoulder. "Can take it off right now if you really want. Though I do remember a certain someone takin' both my balls in their tight little cunt not too long ago."

You swallow thickly, his mouth sucking gently at your neck while his hands stroke softly across your belly, your thighs. "That was different, I... fuck, Joel."

In truth, you do want it. The whole thing, weird Were-Joel knot and all. So, you turn to him, catching his mouth with yours, and reach for that bottle of lube, steely determination in you when you finally grip his cock with your free hand.

"Give it to me."

He lights up, fire in his eyes, and pushes you down, grabbing and kissing you as you try to push him up, hook your legs around him, pull him in closer, to line him up with your core so you can feel the rippled bulge of the silicone knot as it slips up and down your slick pussy.

Joel drizzles lube over the top of his cock, gasping when the cold liquid hits him, before turning the bottle to you, watching the clear fluid dribble out over your cunt. It's cold when it hits, trickling down your seam to wet the bed beneath you. Neither of you care, not when Joel's fingers are swiping through the mess and pushing in, other hand on his own cock, stroking the head as he fucks fingers into you and feels you flutter around them.

"Don't think you'll have a problem takin' all o' this, darlin'," he says to you. "You want it fuckin' bad, don't you?"

You haul yourself up to kiss him while he finger fucks you and fucks his own fist. If you didn't know about the thing wrapped around his dick, you'd settle for tonight ending like this, his fingers knuckle deep while he spurts ropes of cum all over you. But, you want it, so your fingers snake up his leg to squeeze gently at his balls, slick with lube and taut from the ring around them.

"I always want it bad, Joel."

Legs splayed, he pushes you back, and swpies his cock through the mess between your legs. He wastes no time pressing his broad tip into you. You gasp the second he breaches you, your hands finding purchase on his golden shoulders while he teases the tip in and out, before pressing in deeper.

"How do you always feel so good," you say in breathless amazement when he's half way burried in you. "Every time."

You both groan when he pulls out and pushes back in, deeper still, until you feel the edge of the toy nudging at your entrance, and he stops.

"Magic dick," he jokes, voice low and husky. "Maybe I shoulda been a witch this year."

"Not a wizard?"

He shrugs, moving onto his forearms to kiss you without pressing further in, beyond the rim of the knot strapped to his cock. "You liked the dress."

There it is. That feeling that'd been pushing down for months, blooming in your chest again. He so often said things like this - little things that meant not much of anything to most people, but meant the world to you. It wasn't about the dress, if you thought about it. It was knowing that there was someone in the world that was happy and willing to do something, just because you liked it.

You're still and staring at him with glassy eyes when he nudges your nose with his own.

"Think you can take more?"

"Yeah. I want it, Joel, please."

He's gentle when he presses forward next. He reaches a hand between you, pulling you open as he pushes in, checking the toy strapped to him is lubed up enough to not feel dry as it spreads you wider than you'd been in some time.

Because, despite what he said, it is bigger than his balls. They were pulled tight into a ball-torpedo that day, and while the girthy stretch of it was amazing, it was nothing compared to this. This one felt like him.

You could feel his head push deeper, while the solid slickness of his shaft parted you wider, and then the stretch of the silicone knot - firm but yeilding, and as warm and wet with lube as the rest of his cock. You could barely tell where he ended and it began, and you didn't really care to work it out. Even when it stretched you to the widest point, pressing into your entrance with the rest of him to finally slip home with one more press forward of Joel's hips. It filled you - he filled you - and you groaned at the stretch, the feel of yourself clamping around down his cock, the knot, moulding your insides to this new shape of him.

You're breathing heavy when he stills inside you, murmuring in your ear words that you don't hear until he's gently squeezing your cheeks. 

"Y'ain't all fucked out already, are you?" he says, looking into your dazed eyes.

You aren't. Well, you are. The ridges and ripples of the toy lodged inside you along with his cock are pushing against just about every sensitive spot you have, and you don't quite think you have words to say anything, let alone explain it all to Joel.

So, you just nod dumbly at him, whining and grabbing at him to make him move.

The first rock of his hips barely shifts him inside of you, but you can't help the deep groan that pulls out of your chest. It's like he's locked so impossibly deep inside of you that every movement of his cock nudges deeper.

He's careful not to pull the full width of the knot out of you for a while. He just moves, slowly, checking your face where your brows draw tight together and your mouth quivers with the intensity of it all.

Then, when you finally adjust enough to kiss him again, he pulls out, swallowing down your gasp when the knot stretches your sensitive entrance.

Tears spring to your eyes when he pushes back in. It doesn't hurt - not even close - but it's so fucking much that you can't help it, your entire body alive and burning with each movement he makes.

"Joel," you wail, biting into his shoulder as you quiver and quake. You're entirely out of control of your body now, but it doesn't matter. It's safe with Joel - it always has been - and you grip him as best you can while the last dregs of your self control slip away.

"I got you," he says his hands sliding under your ass, and up your back, hugging you to him. "C'mere."

You're bonelessly hauled into his lap, Joel grunting with the effort and the feel of how you clench around him with the shift os his cock rooted deep in you.

"Fuck. There we go. Y'feel that?"

You do. He must know you do by how babble and whine in his ear.

However the toy felt before, it feels even more intense like this. You're sat with your legs wrapped around him, perched on his lap while his thighs are splayed wide to stablize both of you. His cock hasn't moved from it's place deep inside you, but the shift of your body is making the knot nudge that spot inside you usually only his fingers can find.

"Fff-uck, Joel. Joel," you manage to warn, before a tear spills over your waterline. "Don'tstopdon'tfuckingstop."

The flash of concern on his face is only brief as he swipes away the tear, but then he hears you, listens, and rocks against you, pubic hair grinding against your swollen clit as the knot lcosk the two of you together.

It's overwhelming how deep he is and how full you feel. So overwheleming, you just can't help it. That's your excuse, anyway.

"I lo- " you gasp, choking back your own words when he fucks particularly deep.

"What was that?" He asks, groaning as you pulse around him.

"I - I like you," you say into his neck, wincing at your fucking stupidity for letting anything slip, for being too fucked out and cock drunk to think of a better cover than you like him.

"Yeah?" Joel says, a smile in his voice. "You like me?"

You're about to answer, when he pulls back, the knot popping from you before pressing in deep again, making you scramble to grip hold tight of him with the feel of it.

"Ye-es! S-so much."

"Really?"

He does it again, this time pulling you up too, practically making you bounce and fuck yourself onto his knot, and you suddenly don't give a shit what comes out of your mouth now, just that it makes Joel keep doing whatever it is that's happening right now. You feel so wet, you're certain you're dripping, making a mess of his cock, his balls, his thighs, his sheets.

"Yes."

The knot slips out and you pull yourself down onto it this time, groaning when you bottom out and he holds you to him, fucking up into you in shallow movements that are so deep you can feel it in your belly.

"Oh god, yeah."

Wrapping his arms around you, he grinds deep then, pulling you down onto him with each roll of his hips, the friction of his pubic hair against your clit making you howl into his chest.

It feels like panic, but you know it's not. You know it's not because it's as much in your cunt, in your belly, in your spine, than it is in your throat. Still, it bubbles up just the same, frantic desperate words coming out in a stream of nonsense before you know what's about to hit you.

"Joel, Joel, fuck, Joel - I - uhhnng -"

But Joel knows.

He keeps grinding deep, keeps pulling you down, murmuring in your ear filthy encouragement. Your hands struggle to grip him now, the sweat on his skin making him slick as he holds you up, pulls you down, fucks you deeper than you've ever been fucked before.

And then, like a dam, it breaks. You silently scream into his chest, tears spilling down your face, your pussy throbbing and clenching and gushing all over him while he never, not for a second, stops fucking you through it.

Even when you slump in his arms, whining and still coming, flooding his cock, he keeps going.

"That's it," he growls. "That's it, come on it. Come all over me."

You wish you could see him. You wish you had the energy to pull yourself off of him and look at his beuatiful cock and the mess you'd made of it, how throbbing and desperate it was for you, balls gripped tight by the ring and base held stiff by the knot. You'd fuck yourself onto it, if you could. Instead, you just pant in his arms, nodding into his chest, kissing and licking at just about any part you can while he ruts into you.

"You want this?" he grunts, grabbing your ass and spreading your cheeks, letting you somehow slip further down him with the spread.

He grunts loudly in your ear then, panting deep breaths while his chest heaves. "Fuck - fuckin' thing on my balls, not gonna last, say you want it," he begs. "Tell me you want it."

"I want you, I want you, Joel, I want you," you babble into his neck, grabbing his face, kissing him as he grunts into your mouth, cock throbbing where it impales you, balls tight as he comes as deep in you as he's ever been. You think it might just be the hardest he's ever came in you, with how still he goes, and how long he groans - the deep sound of it turning into a desperate whine while his hips cant and rock and fuck you like he's possessed.

And, when it's over, he holds you still, unconciously rocking the two of you gently, bodies so slick with sweat and come that it's a wonder you can even keep yourselves held together.

It's with a groan that he lays you both back. Then, gingerly, he pulls out and tugs the toy off his cock and balls, throwing it to the floor. With delicate kisses to your sweaty chest, he milks the last drops of cum from his cock, smearing it over your used, swollen cunt, as more of him dribbles out of you onto the sheets.

"Marking your territory are you, Were-Joel?" you say with a sleepy, contented smile up at him.

"Not much o' one for pissin' on people, so," he says with a lopside shrug and a soft smile, "Yeah." And he wipes the last drop of cum onto your clit, before kissing you and falling beside you, pulling your legs over his and cradling your spent body against his chest.

You cuddle for a while, falling into a sleepy doze as your hands wander. Then the warmth of him is away, kissing your hairline, and back not a moment later with water placed on the bedside table and a damp towel for between your thighs.

The wet patch is whisked away, dragged off the bed by Joel and replaced with a different comforter as you crawl into his bed, waiting for him beneath the fresh sheets, where he flicks the room into darkness and holds you to him once more.

When you're both settled, your heartbeats calmed and your breaths shallow and sleepy, Joel clears his throat.

"You do know Were-Joel is just man-Joel, right?" he says, his voice rumbling in his chest and straight to your ear.

"Mhm," you yawn. "I told you ages ago I like man-Joel best of all. I'd take him over any of the other Joel's any day."

"Hm," he says with a smile. "That so?"

"Yep."

"Nothin' else?"

"Nope," you mumble into his chest, sleep coming for you quicker and quicker now that his voice is right there soothing you to sleep.

"Alright then."

And you think that's it, that that is all he has to say, that you can both drift off to sleep, warm and safe in each others embrace.

"I love you too."

Your head snaps up to look at him in the dark. He pushes your hair from your face, and you laugh, suddenly giddy and silly and with too much energy and nowhere to put it. "Joel!"

You can see a sliver of his gentle smile in the dark, feel it as he presses it to your forehead, and your laughter dies down knowing that it's not a joke, that he heard you, that he knows, that he accepts your silence not as rejection but as something else, something you know to be true but can't name, even to yourself, even here so safe and warm and content in his arms that it could never be anything else.

"G'night, darlin'."

And as you fall asleep you just hope that maybe, in the morning, you'll be able to say those three little words too.

next part

taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

@youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123

@valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather

@stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr @joelsdagger

[heich0e]

rintarou's sheets are scratchy.

they're new, and haven't yet gone through the wash enough times to properly soften. they haven't been slept on enough times to be fully broken in. you know he bought them because you always used to tease him about his old sheets: faded with some holes in them—a mismatched fitted sheet and top sheet in two different shades of blue, unbefitting of a grown man making grown man money.

so, he got new ones.

these new sheets are green, in the exact shade you like so much—the one you always point out when the two of you are walking in the park near your office on your lunch break. he sent you a picture of the package when he got them home, fishing for praise you refused to give him for doing the bare minimum. they're nice sheets, though. expensive, organic cotton with a high thread count.

but right now, they're scratchy.

and they're irritating you as you lay tangled up in them, the top sheet wrapped around your waist like a belt and twisted around one of your bare legs. you must have been tossing and turning a lot in your sleep, because when you properly rouse from your slumber to take inventory of your surroundings, the first thing you notice is that you're practically knotted into the stiff, new cotton.

you extract yourself from the blankets, stumbling a little towards the door in a fog, and make your way from rintarou's bedroom in the direction of the kitchen.

"oh," rintarou perks up once you appear around the corner, his eyes bright when they spot you. "you're up."

you shuffle around the kitchen counter towards him, your head heavy and pounding, your mouth dry. you feel nauseated, and without thinking, you slump against him with your forehead pressing into the valley between his shoulder blades. you're confused. you're hungover. but he's warm, and smells like laundry detergent. suddenly you feel a little less queasy.

"what's going on?" you grumble into his back. you peel yourself away from him, blinking slowly, and sweep your gaze around the room to get a better sense of things.

suna holds up a frying pan and a whisk. "i'm cooking!"

you blink again. "okay?"

it's not what you meant when you asked him your first question, but rintarou simply smiles. he has an almost puppy-like personality when he gets like this—you can almost picture ears atop his head and a tail wagging happily as he stares down at you.

"how'd i get here last night?"

rintarou freezes, but only for a moment. he quickly turns his back to you again to continue on whatever misguided culinary adventure he'd been attempting before you woke up. "you were pretty drunk."

"my seniors kept egging me on," you complain, rubbing your forehead as the hazy memory surfaces from the night before. it was a company dinner you couldn't get out of, and it had quickly spiralled out of hand. "i don't even remember leaving."

rintarou laughs a little. but he still won't look at you.

"suna."

he doesn't turn, whisking something you can't identify but that you're almost certain should not be whisked in a bowl in front of him on the counter.

"suna." you repeat yourself again.

suddenly, a wave of nausea overtakes you.

no.

no.

you pat yourself down in search of your phone, but the attempt is useless. you're dressed in one of rintarou's t-shirts and boxers, neither of which come equipped with any pockets, and your phone is nowhere to be found. you whip your head around in search of it, but don't spot it anywhere in the immediate vicinity.

"hey—" rintarou finally looks at you when he senses your alarm, and his tone mirrors your own panic. "don't—!"

you swipe his cellphone off the counter in front of him, using the passcode you'd managed to weasel out of him a few months ago to unlock the device and navigate to his call log. you take off running as you tap your way through the various screens on his phone, but he's quickly in pursuit of you—leaving whatever he'd had on the stove to burn like he world's saddest funeral pyre.

"stop, stop!" rintarou is faster than you are, and has longer legs, but even by the time he catches you, you've already found what you're looking for in his call history. he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you down onto his sofa with him in the living room, and the two of you land in a tangle of limbs against the cushions, your breathing laboured.

"i didn't make this call, did i?" you ask meekly, pointing at a brief call in the late hours of the night prior that sits at the top of his call history. it's from your number, but you're confident you hadn't been the one to dial.

rintarou pouts a little bit, avoiding your eyes. after a moment he shakes his head. you groan, rolling over on the sofa underneath him and hiding your face in your hands.

"i wasn't even there long, i promise," rintarou says, his voice impossibly close because of the way the two of you are sprawled across the sofa. his breath is warm against the column of your throat when he speaks.

you refuse to look at him.

"i didn't even say anything embarassing."

you still don't budge.

"i made sure to thank your coworkers for calling me to come get you and everything."

your hangover has been overtaken by your own mortification, a horrible heat creeping up your face to accompany the taste of bile in your throat. you've been so, so careful not to let your relationship and your career overlap thus far. so cautious about introducing rintarou into parts of your life that would make it even harder to face if or when the time came that he wasn't around anymore.

"are you embarrassed of me?"

his question makes your chest ache. the way he says it twists the knife.

you lift your face from your hands and peek at him over your shoulder. he's so close that your noses almost brush.

"no." you mean it.

the anxiety in rintarou's gaze eases. he presses closer.

"you sure?"

you narrow your eyes at him. "depends. were you wearing that awful yellow track suit?"

rintarou laughs, all breath, and then dips down to kiss you softly. you want to complain that you haven't even brushed your teeth yet, or that you kind of feel like you might be sick, or that whatever he was trying to cook is on the brink of burning down the building. but you don't. you just let him rest on top of you. you let yourself enjoy it.

when he finally pulls away, rintarou has a somewhat sly smile on his face.

"what, rin?" you ask him gently.

"just wondering if now that i've met your coworkers you're going to let me come visit you at lunch, or if you're still gonna make me hide in the park."

"i like the park," you pout.

because the park is green, the colour you like so much. like rintarou's scratchy bedsheets. and his eyes.

"okay, okay," he laughs, pressing his forehead against yours. "i like the park, too."

[kkanabel]

co-pilot mischief ✫ both broken ✫ chapter tres ✫ finale

captain curly x teasing!reader

it’s been a month since your epiphany that Captain Curly has a sweet little crush on you, and you’ve been teasing him the entire time. what happens when you push him even closer to the edge? you asked that question, and here we are: Curly has officially broken.

directory/m.list ⇦ previous chapter

words: ~6.1k

t/w: sex, minors dni, overstimulation, fingering, REALLY OVERSTIMULATION, multiple orgasms, curly being a lil shit, so much yucky, gn!reader who wears a bra, no specific genitalia mentioned for reader (if i fucked up & did somewhere, pls lmk), any other things i should mention?

a/n: hi. been obsessed with this video game recently—well, especially with Curly (go figure. i like fictional men). i needed to make something self-indulgent bc i just like this man way too much. and because i just want to make a world where none of them have to suffer. enjoy~ 

~jeremy does not exist in this world~

Planned Shipment Duration: 382 Days Elapsed Transit Time: 342 Days

Since the incident, you’ve noticed Curly’s behavior shift from his usual awkward-but-adorable responses to something else entirely—avoidance. Every conversation with him feels clipped, every interaction rushed. This avoidance comes to a head when you have to discuss the ship's fuel readings.

“Captain, can you double-check the fuel calibration?” you ask, stepping into the cockpit with a tablet in hand.

Curly is already seated at the console, his back stiffening at the sound of your voice. “It’s fine,” he mutters without looking up, his fingers flying over the controls.

You narrow your eyes. “Fine? It’s been showing inconsistencies for two days now. Can we be sure it won’t cause an issue later?”

He exhales sharply through his nose, his jaw tightening. “I’ll… take care of it.” Still, he doesn’t glance at you, his gaze fixed on the screen as if the fuel levels are the most riveting thing he’s ever seen.

You step closer, placing the tablet on the console in front of him. “It’d be quicker if we checked it together,” you say, deliberately leaning over just slightly to try and catch his eyes.

But he shifts, pulling back as if your proximity physically burns. “I’ve got it,” he says tersely, still avoiding you.

The clipped tone stings more than you expect. You hesitate, studying him. His hands grip the edge of the console, the veins in his forearms standing out as though he’s using every ounce of willpower to keep his composure. He looks tired—no, exhausted—but there’s something else in his expression, something tight and defensive.

You pull back, watching him with a frown. There’s an ache in your chest you weren’t prepared for—a pang of guilt mixed with frustration. You liked teasing him, pushing his buttons just enough to see the cracks in his armor, but this? This feels different. It’s like he’s shut a door between the two of you, and you can’t help but wonder if you pushed too far.

You bite your lip, torn. Was it the water incident? The shirt? Or maybe it’s been everything—the touches, the flirtation, the unspoken tension you’ve been toying with for weeks. Whatever it is, the wall he’s built feels higher than before, and it leaves you restless, your stomach knotting with something that feels a lot like regret.

That night, sleep refuses to come. You lie in your bunk, staring at the dim ceiling of your cabin, your mind replaying every moment from the cockpit earlier. His stiffness, his avoidance, the way he couldn’t even look at you—it all swirls together, making your chest feel heavy.

Was he angry with you? Embarrassed? Or worse—had you made him so uncomfortable that he didn’t want to be around you anymore? The thought makes your throat tighten, and you sit up, running a hand through your hair in frustration.

The hum of the ship’s engines fills the silence of your cabin, steady and soothing, but it does little to calm the turmoil in your chest. You’ve been lying there for hours, staring at the ceiling, your blanket pushed to the side as your mind cycles endlessly.

You can’t stop thinking about him.

The look on Curly’s face earlier had been… different. It wasn’t just the usual exasperation you’d grown fond of teasing out of him. It was heavier, like he was carrying something you couldn’t quite name, something you weren’t sure you should have pulled at.

You close your eyes and groan quietly into the darkness, guilt and frustration twisting in equal measure. Sure, it’s fun to watch him squirm, to push his buttons just enough to see the cracks in that carefully constructed exterior. But you may have gone too far—even if the water spilling on your shirt was a complete accident. His jaw had set so tightly, his words clipped in a way that left no room for your usual playful retorts.

The memory sits heavy in your chest now, pressing down like a weight.

You roll over for the hundredth time, but the ache of regret and the nagging spark of curiosity keep you pinned wide awake. It’s not just the teasing, is it? Not really. It’s the way his silence speaks louder than his words, the way he looks at you like he’s bracing himself to lose something he doesn’t even have yet

You sigh, sitting up and running a hand through your hair. You know you should leave it alone, let him come to you when he’s ready, but patience has never been your strong suit.

Sliding out of the bunk, you glance at the reflection of your sleepwear in the metal panel across the room. The skimpy fabric makes you hesitate, but only for a moment. If you’re honest with yourself, part of you still wants to provoke him. But another part—the part twisting in your gut—just wants to be able to speak to him normally again.

The ship feels colder at night, the air biting against your bare skin as you make your way down the narrow corridor. The faint glow spilling from the cockpit confirms your suspicion: he’s there, just as you expected.

You pause in the doorway, your heart beating harder than you’d like. He hasn’t noticed you yet. His head is bowed, his fingers raking through his messy blond hair as he leans over the console. He looks… defeated. The sight sends a pang through you, sharp and unwelcome.

Taking a breath, you step inside, keeping your voice soft as you speak. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He straightens abruptly, his shoulders stiffening as his chair creaks under the sudden movement. His eyes meet yours for a moment before flicking downward and darting back up, his jaw clenching. You catch the faintest flush across his cheeks, but his expression is unreadable.

“What are you doing here?” His tone is flat, but there’s a strain beneath it, like he’s barely holding himself together.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You try to smile, but it falters. Stepping closer, you cross your arms, suddenly feeling more self-conscious than you expected. “I—” You stop, unsure of how to begin. “I just… I wanted to check on you.”

His brows furrow, suspicion flickering across his face. “Check on me?”

“Yeah.” You force a small laugh, but it sounds hollow even to your own ears. “You seemed… off earlier.” You hesitate, glancing at the console to avoid his gaze. 

The silence that follows feels heavier than when the ship’s gravity went haywire and pushed down on you all. You risk a glance at him, only to find him watching you with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. His hands grip the armrests of his chair like they’re the only thing anchoring him, his knuckles pale.

“It’s fine,” he says finally, his voice tight, controlled. Too controlled. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

The way he says it makes something inside you crack. You know that tone, the one he uses to push people away, to keep himself locked behind walls you’ve only just started to glimpse behind. And it hurts.

“Curly…” You step closer. “That’s not what I—”

“Don’t,” he cuts you off, his voice sharper now, his eyes flashing with something you can’t quite name.

But you don’t back down. Not this time.

“Don’t what?” you challenge, leaning closer to him. You keep your voice soft, almost hesitant, but there’s no mistaking the edge behind it. “Don’t worry about you? Don’t care?”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think he might not answer. He just stares at you, his stormy blue eyes locked on yours, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he finally says, but there’s no conviction in the words. They’re a shield, flimsy and cracking.

You tilt your head, your voice dropping lower. “Why not?”

“Because…” He looks away, running a hand down his face, and you see the way his fingers tremble. When his gaze snaps back to yours, there’s fire in it, raw and unfiltered. “Because I can’t keep doing this, alright? I can’t—”

He stops himself, his voice breaking on the last word, and your heart stumbles in your chest.

“Can’t what?” you press, taking another step closer, your bare feet brushing against the cool floor. Your voice softens, and this time there’s no teasing, no game. “Curly, just tell me.”

He lets out a frustrated sound, somewhere between a growl and a groan, and rises abruptly from his chair. The suddenness of it makes you flinch, but you hold your ground.

“You don’t get it, do you?” His voice is louder now, but it’s not anger—it’s desperation, raw and bleeding. “You waltz in here in your—” His eyes flick down to your barely-there pajamas before snapping back up, his expression torn. “—your… whatever that is, and you look at me like that, and you think it’s funny, don’t you? Messing with me, pushing me, like it’s all some game!”

You blink, stunned by the outpouring of words. “I—”

“No,” he cuts you off, his voice cracking. “You don’t get to talk right now. Do you know how hard I’ve been trying? Trying to keep this… whatever it is… locked down? To keep things professional, to not…” He trails off, shaking his head like he’s trying to dislodge the thought.

“To not what?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“To not ruin everything!” he bursts out, and the words hang in the air between you, heavy and unrelenting. “Do you have any idea what it’s like, waking up every damn day and seeing you, knowing I can’t—shouldn’t—feel this way?”

His chest heaves, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He’s closer now, the space between you shrinking with every ragged breath.

He leans in closer, his forehead nearly brushing yours, and you can see the tension in his jaw, the flicker of hesitation before he barrels on. “Do you know what it’s like to sit next to you every day, to have you so close and know I can’t touch you? Can’t tell you?” His laugh is bitter, almost self-deprecating. “God, I can’t even think straight when you’re around. You’ve got me walking into walls, screwing up flight routes, forgetting my own bloody name half the time.”

“Curly…” You reach out, but he grabs your wrist before you can touch him, his grip firm but not painful.

“Don’t,” he says again, but this time it’s a plea, his voice breaking. His gaze locks on yours, his eyes glassy with an emotion you’ve never seen from him before.

And then, before you can say anything, he moves.

In one swift motion, he pushes you back against the console, his hands braced on either side of you, caging you in. His face is inches from yours, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him, the unsteady rhythm of his breath.

“I can’t…” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Your heart pounds so loudly you’re sure he can hear it, but you don’t move, don’t dare to break the fragile moment hanging between you.

“Then don’t,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

His eyes search yours, and for a heartbeat, everything stands still. Then, with a groan that sounds like defeat, he closes the gap, capturing your lips with his in a kiss so fierce it steals the breath from your lungs.

The kiss is not soft or measured, but raw, desperate, and full of everything he’s been holding back for months. His lips crash against yours with an intensity that makes your knees go weak, and you gasp into him, feeling the weight of all his pent-up frustration pouring out into this moment.

His hands, rough and calloused, grip the edges of the console beside your hips like he’s barely holding himself together. You feel the tension in his arms, the way his muscles cord and flex, the sheer power of him caging you in.

And then, suddenly, his hands shift. One moves to your jaw, tilting your face to deepen the kiss, while the other slides down to your hip, pinning you firmly to the console beneath you. The cool surface bites against your skin, grounding you as his fingers wrap around you with just enough force to keep you there without hurting you.

He pulls away for a moment, searching your eyes for any hint of rejection, finding none.

You open your mouth to speak, but he doesn’t give you the chance. His lips crash back down onto yours, more insistent this time, as if he’s trying to erase every teasing word and playful glance you’ve ever thrown his way.

His body presses closer, and you’re keenly aware of every inch of him—the strength in his broad shoulders, the solid weight of his chest against yours, the way his body is being held between your thighs (which you’ve just realized that you wrapped around him), keeping you and him firmly in place. His free hand trails down your side, his touch firm and possessive.

“Curly,” you keen, eyes fogged from the kisses he just gave you.

“Don’t,” he warns, his voice low and rough. “Not unless you’re ready to take responsibility for what you’ve started.”

The words send a shiver through you, and you meet his gaze, your breath catching at the unrestrained emotion in his expression—anger, yes, but also longing, vulnerability, and an aching kind of need that makes your chest tighten.

“I’m not sorry,” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling but steady enough to hold his gaze.

His lips curl into a gentle smile, and he shakes his head, leaning in until his forehead rests against yours. “I expected such,” he murmurs, his voice softer now but no less intense.

And then he kisses you again, slower this time, but just as overwhelming. It’s less about frustration now and more about everything else—the want, the need, the relief of finally letting it out. His hand slides from your hip to thread his fingers through yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as if to soften the moment, to remind you that despite the force of it all, he’s still Curly.

Even then, as he pulls his lips away to trail his kisses down that delicious neck of yours that he’s been fantasizing about for the past couple months, he bucks his hips into yours subconsciously. 

His eyes widen at the realization of what he just did, and he’s just about to apologize when he hears your soft groan, your hips grinding back into his. 

You’re going to be the end of him. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, his mind goes entirely blank while reaching his hands to grab onto the mounds of your chest as he places wet kisses all over your neck. 

The sensation makes you gasp—his warm lips suckling all over the crook of your neck, trailing slightly further down as his large, warm hands grasp at you, fingers gliding against the thin fabric over to the tips of your nipples. He teases it over the fabric, each graze sending a jolt down your core as his pants get tighter.

You watch as Curly’s eyes glaze over while looking at the thin fabric of your shirt, watching your nipples peak and harden under his ministrations. One of his hands pulls away from a breast, brushing down your body until he pulls the skimpy fabric of your shorts and your underwear to the side and places his fingers right onto your heat at just the right spot, rubbing at it.

Your gasping, arms tightening around his neck, and your hands gripping at the hair on the base of his neck only serves to spur him on. His eyes are still hazy with a sheen of lust as he brings his fingers to his lips and licks them lasciviously before easing a finger inside your hole, slowly massaging at your walls until he finds your most delicious spot. 

When you tense up and you let out another gasp, his tongue darts out to lick at his lips, knowing that he’s found it. As you reach up to capture his lips with yours, he slips another finger in. 

As you’re kissing, you let out a choked moan as he only rubs against that little spot more, fingers starting to curl up rougher and faster. His fingers filled you up so well—so thick and long, pressing your insides in all the right places. 

When you clench and spasm around his fingers, you expect him to slow down, but his fingers only get faster through your orgasm. You squeak in response, and his eyes are hooded as he finger fucks you into oblivion.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growls against your lips, his voice thick with frustration and something darker. His breath fans hot against your cheek as he pulls back just enough to speak, his eyes blazing as they meet yours. “To push me until I couldn’t take it anymore?” 

His face is a storm of emotions, each one fighting for dominance. His jaw is tight, clenched as though he was holding back. His lips are red and slightly swollen from the kiss, a stark contrast against the stubble shadowing his sharp jawline. 

But it’s his eyes that leave you breathless—dark and blazing with an intensity that borders on feral. Those blue eyes, turbulent and unyielding, locking onto yours like they’re searching for every answer you’ve ever hidden. It combines with the feeling of his fingers pressing you in the right spot, making you see stars.

“You’ve been playing with fire, haven’t you?” he breathes, his voice rough and biting. His lips curl into something that’s not quite a smile—a shadow of one, edged with frustration and disbelief. “All those looks, those little comments. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

His hand at the console shifts, and he presses a little closer, his body heat seeping into you. “God, do you have any idea what it’s been like? Watching you parade around like that? Laughing, teasing, pretending you don’t notice what you’re doing to me?” His words are a low snarl now, sharp with exasperation and tinged with lust as he drives his fingers deep into you, earning a squeal from your lips.

“Every time I thought I had it under control, you’d pull something new. A touch here. Showing off some skin there.” His free hand slides along your jaw, his thumb brushing deliberately across your cheekbone. His touch is gentle, almost a mockery of the fire behind his words and the intensity behind his fingers. “You really thought I would break eventually, didn’t you?”

His eyes flicker to your lips, and his fingers keep curling and thrusting inside you in a way that makes you squeak. The sound makes his gaze snap back to your eyes, his expression darkening further. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, trying to ground yourself from this onslaught of pleasure.

“Was this the plan all along?” he taunts, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “To push me so far I’d lose control? Or were you just so sure I’d never cross that line?” He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “Well, congratulations. You’ve got me right where you want me.”

He pulls back just far enough to meet your eyes again, his lips curling into a wicked smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “So tell me,” he murmurs, his tone both a challenge and a warning, “what are you going to do now?” Your gummy walls clench on his fingers as he works you undone again—with both his fingers and his words.

“Please,” you keen, voice breathless. “Just fuck me, Captain.” 

The use of his title in that pleasure-drenched voice of yours makes him sharply inhale. He leaned back, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Not yet," he says, his voice low and commanding. "You're going to need to be ready for me. Really ready. So, I’m going to take my time." He knew the company regulations like the back of his hand—no personal items, especially not the kind that could be used for pleasure. And he knew you hadn't had anyone else in almost a year.

Your eyes go wide with shock as he speaks, and you realize what he meant. "But I... I've been... stretching," you protested, face heating up at the implication. 

Curly's smile grows, and he leans down, his mouth hovering just above yours. "With your fingers?" he asked, his voice filled with amusement. "That's not enough. Not for what I've got in store for you." You look up at him in shock.

"Trust me," he murmurs against your lips. "You'll thank me for it later. Especially when I break you like you tried to break me. I’ll have you begging, you little tease." His words send shivers of excitement up your spine.

With that, he slides his hand back down your body, his fingers slipping into you again. Your muscles are still contracting from the aftershocks of your two climaxes. He pumps his fingers in and out, watching your face contort with pleasure and overstimulation. But he knew he had to prepare you, had to make sure you could take him.

He leans in, whispering in your ear. "You're going to come again," he tells you, his voice a promise. "And then again. And each time, I'm going to make you feel so good that you'll forget your name."

Your eyes close, breath coming in short pants as you moan into his mouth. Curly revels in the feeling and the view of your hips moving in time with his touch. 

Curly slides in a third finger, curling them gently, feeling the slickness of your arousal. Your eyes fly open, and you look at him with a mix of shock and need. "Curly," you gasp, your hips bucking against his hand, hole stretching around his fingers. "Please..." He strokes you in a steady rhythm, watching your face contort with pleasure. You bite your lip, trying to be quiet, but the occasional whimper escapes. 

He pushes your tiny tank top up, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling it as he continues to play with you. Your hands pull him closer, urging him on. He can feel your body tightening, your legs starting to tremble. He knew you were close.

And then it happened. With a cry, you cum again, your muscles clenching around his fingers. He still doesn’t stop, though, instead curling his fingers deeper inside you, keeping the pressure on your sweet spot. Your orgasm went on and on, your body shaking with pleasure, legs giving out.

As the last of your tremors subside, he pulls his hand away, bringing his fingers to his mouth. He tastes you, watching as your face heats up. "So good," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “I’m going to push you until you can’t take it anymore.” 

Without warning, he slams his mouth onto your core, his tongue flicking you rapidly. You scream, hips jerking up. Your nails claw at the console, searching for any kind of purchase before gripping his blonde locks.

Curly feels the warmth of your orgasm wash over his hand and lips, juices coating his fingers and face as he watches you come apart in front of him. He'd never seen anyone so beautiful. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you let out a guttural cry, body arching. 

He waits for you to open your eyes, to look at him with the same hunger he feels burning in his gut. When you do, there are tears in the corners of your eyes, and you’re panting. "Please," you beg, voice a whimper. "Please, Curly. I need you inside me." Your vision was already starting to go blurry, and you felt a slight twinge of dizziness from all the mind-numbing orgasms.

His only response is a shit-eating grin and his fingers continuing to work you open. The sound of your wetness fills the cockpit, and he couldn't help but groan. You’re so tight, so perfect. And all his. He watches your face as he works into you, his tongue circling you in time with his fingers curling up and down, thrusting in and out. You’re close, so close to breaking altogether, and he can feel the tension building in your body.

“Curly, please, I-” And then, with a scream, you cum again, gushing wetness all over his hand and face. He pulls away, wiping it from his cheek with a grin. 

"See?" he says, his voice filled with pride and eyes filled with darkness. "I told you I'd make you beg for it."

Your chest heaves, breath coming in ragged gasps. You stare up at him, eyes glazed. "Curly," you whisper with a needy voice. "Please... I need you."

He stood up, his cock straining against his pants. "Not yet," he said again, his voice firm. "We have all night."

He reaches down, helping you to your feet. You sway slightly, legs weak from the intense orgasms. He swiftly picks you up and carries you to the Captain’s Quarters. The crew is asleep. The only sounds are the steady hum of the Tulpar's engines and your two footsteps.

Once inside, he places you down onto his bed gently, your legs still shaking. He hovers over you, his eyes dark with hunger. He kissed you again, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you and your desire. You moan, hands reaching up to tug at his shirt.

He breaks the kiss, pulling his shirt off. Your eyes scrape up and down the sight of his bare chest, his muscles rippling in the dim light. He leans back in, his mouth moving down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle nibbles. You shiver, skin sensitive from the previous orgasms.

Curly slides his hand down to your hole again, his thumb pressing against you as he kisses his way down your body. You gasp, hips rising to meet his touch. He spread open your legs revealing you, all bare and wet. He took a moment to appreciate the view, your swollen hole and the glisten of your arousal—the glisten of your multiple orgasms.

With a groan, he buries his face between your legs, his tongue flicking over you at the perfect spot. You almost scream, the sensation too much. He slides two fingers inside, desperate to continue stretching out your inner muscles.

He licks and sucks, his mouth a symphony of pleasure. You cum again, body bowing off the bed, hands tangling in his hair. He doesn’t let up, his tongue relentless, his fingers curling inside you, pushing you to the edge once more. Your cries grow louder, more frantic, until you’re almost screaming. And then, just as suddenly, you go quiet.

Your eyes roll back in your head, and you go limp beneath him as your body refuses to stop twitching. Curly pulls back, panting, his mouth wet with your essence. He watches your chest heave, your breath coming in ragged gasps. He knows you’re on the edge, just about to shatter into pieces.

He slides his fingers out of you, watching the way you quiver.

He stands, his own desire clear in the bulge in his pants. "You’re doing so good," he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Now you're ready." Curly chuckles as he watches your muscles twitch. “So cute,” he mumbles as he zips his jumpsuit down all the way and pulls his boxers down. It's massive, thick and long, standing erect and flushed with arousal.

You’re still unable to form words, eyes blank as you come down from the onslaught of pleasure. Your eyes flutter open when you feel him getting back onto the bed, chest heaving as you stare up at him. "Curly," you breathe, voice shaky. "I don’t… I don’t know if I can take it anymore."

He leans over you, eyes dark with need. "You can," he says, his voice firm. "You will. And you're the one who begged for it."

Curly lines up his cock with your slick entrance, the tip kissing you lightly. It's hot, and you can feel the pulse of his excitement. His reddened tip is so much larger than what you've felt before, veins standing out. Your eyes widen, looking at the size of him, and you feel your stomach flip.

Slowly, with a look of absolute focus, he starts to push in, watching your face as you bite your lip to keep from screaming. The head of his cock, that angry red tip, breaches your entrance, and you can feel your body stretching around its thickness. He goes so slowly, so carefully, that you can't help but trust him. The veins on his shaft stand out like roads on a map, and they feel like they're carving into you as he slides in inch by inch.

The pressure is intense, but you’re so wet, so ready for him. He slides in deeper, feeling you stretch around him. Your walls cling to him, and he knows he'd never felt anything so amazing. He pauses for a moment, savoring the sensation.

And to his surprise, you cum again, walls tightening around his cock. A keening sound tears from your throat, and you buck your hips against him, trying to push him deeper. He holds you still, watching your face, feeling your walls pulse around him. 

It was like nothing he'd ever felt before, a wave of pleasure so intense it almost brought him to his knees. “Fuck,” his eyes squeeze shut, voice hoarse. 

But he doesn’t stop. He couldn't. He pushes in further, feeling you tighten even more. You were whining now, a high-pitched sound that seemed to echo through the room. He knows he’s hitting all the right spots, that you were on the edge again. And he was going to make sure you fell over it.

You're so wet, so ready for him, that he's able to ease into you with surprising ease, despite his size. Each time he pushes in, you feel your muscles resisting before giving way, your body adapting to his thickness. Your walls clench around him, trying to get used to the feeling of being so full, so claimed. It's as if every part of you is being rewritten, every nerve ending remapped to accommodate his size.

His thumbs press gently against your pulse points, feeling the rapid thrum of your heartbeat. “You’ve been in my head for months. Twisting me up so bad I can’t tell what’s real anymore. Hell, I can’t even close my eyes without seeing you.” His voice has dropped lower, huskier, the edges roughened by emotion and strain.

The feeling of fullness is intense, almost overwhelming, but it's mixed with an aching need for more. You can feel your body stretching, adjusting to his size, and it's both slightly painful and incredibly arousing. He's so much larger than any toy you've ever used, and the thought of taking all of him sends a fresh wave of desire through you.

You glance up at his form, the dim artificial lights overhead casting a faint, bluish hue across his bare chest. His skin glistens faintly, a sheen of sweat highlighting the sculpted lines of his muscles—the curve of his shoulders, the sharp planes of his chest, and the ripple of his abdomen. Shadows deepen in the grooves between his ribs and along the flex of his arms as he shifts, his every movement purposeful, almost mesmerizing. There’s faint golden hair dusting his chest and trailing down his stomach.

The sight of him makes you coo, “Curly, you’re so perfect.”

His eyes never leave yours, and in them you now see a fierce concentration, a hunger that's been building for a long time. The head of his cock reaches deep into you, and you arch your back, the sensation overwhelming. You're so full you feel like you might burst. But then he pulls out slightly, only to push back in even deeper, and it's as if you've been hit by a bolt of lightning.

With one final, powerful thrust, he's all the way in, and you let out a cry that echoes through the cabin. Your nails dig into his back, your body shaking with the intensity of it all. His cock is so big, so hard, that you feel it in every part of you, filling you up in a way you never knew was possible.

Your hips are moving, rutting against him, urging him deeper. 

He starts to move, his hips rocking into yours, his cock sliding in and out of your tight hole. You moan, the feeling so intense that you don’t know if you can handle it. Orgasms roll through you, one after another, each one more powerful than the last. You couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began, they just blended together into a never-ending crescendo of pleasure.

Curly's movements then become more forceful, his thrusts deeper and faster. Each time he fills you, you can feel your inner muscles clench around him, trying to hold onto that delicious feeling of fullness. He groans, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he starts to pick up the pace.

Tears slide down your cheeks as he fucks you, each stroke hitting deeper than the last. Your eyes are now squeezed shut, and all you can see was the bright white light of pure ecstasy. You don’t know if you can take it, don’t know if you could handle his size, his strength. But you don’t want him to stop.

The room fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you. It's primal, animalistic, and you can't help but get lost in it—in the feeling of his body pressing into yours, in the heat of his breath against your neck, in the way your orgasms build and crash over you like waves.

Your body starts to shake, your muscles tensing as you feel another climax building. You look up at him, eyes pleading, and he leans down, capturing your mouth in a fierce kiss. It's as if he knows exactly what you need, and he's more than willing to give it to you.

Curly starts to hit that spot inside you with every thrust, the one that makes your toes curl and your vision blur. You moan into his mouth, your hips rising to meet his, desperate for more. Fuck, but you don’t know if you can take it anymore. He's relentless, his cock driving into you, stretching you further and further until you think you'll shatter into a million pieces. 

And then, with one final, powerful thrust, you do.

You push him away, just enough for his cock to pop out of you, and you squeal. “‘Curly,” you keen, twitching all over as you release all over yourself, him, and his sheets. His dick twitches as he watches you spasm all over his bed, coating both of you in your cum and slick. 

The corners of your eyes sting with tears of pleasure, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Curly’s gaze doesn’t waver, his lips slightly parted as he watches you, his chest rising and falling with his own labored breaths. 

“Bloody hell,” he mutters, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, his voice hoarse and rough. Then, without hesitation, he flips you over with a strength that sends your pulse racing all over again. His hands are firm yet careful, a mix of desperation and reverence in the way he touches you.

“You drive me insane,” he growls, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. The weight of his words settles over you, and you know this is far from over. His frustration, his need, his months of pent-up tension—all of it is unraveling here and now, and you’re the one holding the thread.

And with those words, you know it’s going to be a long, unforgettable night. The thought crosses your mind in a brief, hazy moment of clarity: How are you supposed to walk tomorrow? But the question is quickly swept away, drowned in the whirlwind of Curly’s relentless thrusting and the electric heat between you.

Hours later, when the two of you finally collapse into each other, exhausted and sated, there’s a rare, blissful quiet in the air. His arm drapes over you after he cleans you up, heavy and warm, pulling you against his chest. The steady rhythm of his breathing lulls you into a peace you haven’t felt in ages.

For the first time in years, Curly sleeps soundly. No tossing, no turning, no restless hours spent staring at the ceiling. In his dreams, as in reality, you’re there with him. And ever since then, he hasn’t had any insomnia.

And you? You have no regrets.

a/n: the finale~~ let me know what y'all think!

oh yeah.. smut.. neverending smut..

taglist is open! lmk if you want to be on the taglist for just curly/mouthwashing characters or if you want the news on alll my fics.

also might be accepting requests hehe! i can’t guarantee that i can do em, but i’ll accept ideas!

btw. not beta read, please let me know if there are any typos/inconsistencies stay safe & hydrated as always!

(and go to sleep if you’re reading this super late. don’t be a curly. take care of yourself!)

thanks for reading! <3

crossposted on ao3

taglist: @m-carriaga2021, @skyeconch

directory/m.list ⇦ previous chapter

[crescenthistory]

steady me, guide me, love me

Pairing: Barty Crouch Junior x Reader

Summary: After yet another fight, you have a serious talk with Junior about being careful, and he allows himself to be vulnerable with you.

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: not proofread, references to duels, blood and bruised knuckles, hurt/comfort, reader is anxious and stressed for barty, talks of dying, reader is not matching barty's freak but it's because she loves him and wants him to take a breather, barty and reader have an emotional disagreement but i would not classify it as a "fight", kissingggggg, like one innuendo

Notes: this was originally going to be an entirely different fic and not at all this emotional, but then barty had a mind of his own and took over my writing. so i am simply not to blame

***

The torches lining the Slytherin common room flickered in the dim light of the early evening. A faint breeze swept through the castle, carrying the scent of damp stone and the promise of rain. The common room was unusually quiet for a Friday night – students scattered in clusters, engrossed in studying or murmuring in low tones about the latest drama from their shared classes.

Barty was not among them. 

You sat on one of the far couches, attempting to focus on your homework but mostly letting your mind wander. It wasn’t unusual for Barty to disappear, but you hadn’t seen him for hours now, and the knot of anxiety in your stomach tightened as time ticked by. You knew him too well. Whatever he was doing, it wasn’t good.

The door to the common room burst open with a loud thud, shaking the portraits on the walls. The students nearby jumped, startled, while your heart only jumped in recognition. Barty, his hair windswept, his tie undone, and his eyes gleaming with that feral, maniacal delight he wore like armour, strode in like he owned the place.

Trailing behind him, a faint scent of burnt fabric and… was that blood?

Your stomach clenched, and you shot up from the couch, abandoning your parchment as you hurried toward him. 

“Barty–” you began, but before you could even reach him, Barty’s voice rang out, sharp as ever.

“That was brilliant!” he declared, a wicked grin splitting his face. The students in the room shot wary glances at him before quickly looking away, clearly unwilling to be caught up in whatever this is.

You stopped in front of him, hands crossed over your chest, trying to keep your voice steady despite the surge of concern rising in your throat. “What did you do?”

His eyes flicked over to you, and for a brief moment, something in them softened, only for a moment – Barty wasn’t one to linger on emotions that exposed him.

“Oh, hi, Treasure,” he drawled, closing the distance between you in two strides. He leaned down, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your ear, the smell of singed air and danger still clinging to him. “You should’ve seen it. That prat, Avery, dared to insult us–”

“Barty, what did you do?” you repeated, your voice firmer this time. You gripped his arm, pulling him slightly away from the curious eyes in the room, off to the side.

His smirk widened, unbothered. “We duelled. A proper one. Out by the forest. Let’s just say…” He waved a hand dismissively, as if the details didn’t matter. “He won’t be insulting anyone for a while. Got a good lesson in fear.”

You stared at him, heart pounding. There was a faint smear of blood near the collar of his shirt – not his, you hoped – and his knuckles were bruised, like they’d been cracked against someone’s jaw. Clearly not just a magical duel. 

“Are you okay?” you asked, wanting to ensure he was good before you rip into him for putting himself in harm’s way again.

He half-scoffed at you, waving any concern off. “I’m here, ain’t I? I’m fine, Avery’s not the worst I’ve seen.”

“Barty, you can’t keep doing this,” you whispered, eyes darting toward the others in the common room. You lowered your voice even more. “You can’t keep getting into fights just because someone runs their mouth.”

“Can’t?” he repeated, his expression twisting into a mocking smile, though you could see some uncertainty in his eyes. “You know damn well I can, Treasure. I will. If some filthy coward thinks he can throw my name – our name – in the dirt, I’ll break him.”

“You’ll get yourself expelled, is what you’ll do,” you shot back, frustration bubbling up inside you. “Or worse – someone’s going to get seriously hurt. You can’t just throw yourself into these things because– because–”

“Because what?” Barty interrupted, his voice sharper than he usually was with you. His eyes bore into yours, demanding something you weren’t sure you could give him. “Because I care too much? Because I won’t let anyone talk down to us?”

There it was again, that us he always slipped in when talking about you and him. It made you stutter in more ways than one.

You sighed, staring at him for a minute. Your heart ached. You loved that Barty cared, albeit too much sometimes, but his obsession with proving himself, with protecting what he thought was his, was going to destroy him. You could see the cracks forming already.

“Come with me,” you said quietly, pulling on his arm again. This was not a conversation to be had here, not with a dozen of already too curious eyes watching. You needed to get him away, alone, where he could let down his guard fully and you could hopefully talk some sense into him.

His gaze flickered around the room, but he didn't put up a fight, he never did with you about these things. “Fine,” he muttered, letting you guide him out of the common room.

The hallways of Hogwarts were mostly deserted at this hour. The faint echo of your footsteps bounced off the stone walls as you led him down the stairs to a more secluded corner near the dungeons, where the stone was colder and the shadows thicker. Barty, as always, followed with a mix of curiosity and defiance in his eyes, the corners of his mouth still turned up in that maddening half-smile.

Once you were out of earshot from any stragglers, you stopped and turned to him. 

“Let me see,” you said, reaching for his hand.

Barty raised an eyebrow, but didn’t pull away as you gently lifted his bruised knuckles toward the dim light of a torch. The skin was split in a couple of places, dried blood smeared along his fingers. You swallowed the knot of worry in your throat, your thumb brushing against the cuts.

“What did he say?” you asked quietly.

“Doesn’t matter.” 

“It matters to me,” you insisted, not looking up from his hand.

He sighed, his free hand coming up to run through his dishevelled hair. “Something about my father. About how I’m ‘just like him,’ bound to be a disappointment. Then he said something about you. Called you…” He trailed off, anger clearly still knocked fully out of him. “Well, I don’t think I need to repeat that.”

Your stomach twisted. Avery was known for being a bully, but dragging you into it, using Barty’s relationship with you as some kind of twisted insult, was beyond cruel. Not to mention, beyond stupid.

No wonder Barty had reacted the way he did.

You stopped your inspection of his hand, instead interlacing your fingers with his as you leaned back against the cold stone wall. “You can’t keep doing this, Barty,” you repeated, your voice softer now, the fight draining out of you. “Don’t get me wrong, I understand, really I do. But you can’t just… lose yourself every time someone says something cruel.”

He stepped closer, his intense gaze locking onto yours. “I’m not losing myself,” he said, his voice low, the words a steady pulse of loyalty. “I’m doing what’s necessary. What no one else will do. I’m keeping us safe.”

You shook your head, blinking back the frustration building in your chest. “And what if next time, it’s not just a duel? What if next time you really hurt someone and get in serious trouble for once? Or, gods forbid, they hurt you?”

Barty laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “They can try, Treasure. But they’ll have to be a hell of a lot smarter than Avery.”

“That’s not the point!” you snapped, pushing off the wall and closing the space between you. You grabbed the front of his shirt, your fingers tangling in the fabric. “You’re going to get yourself killed one day, and I can’t–” Your voice cracked, the weight of your worry pressing down on you. “I can’t stand it.”

His smile faltered, and you saw the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. It was brief, but it was there, like a flash of lightning in a storm, gone before you could fully grasp it. 

His hands moved to your wrists, gently prying your fingers away from his shirt, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he held your hands in his against his chest, his thumb brushing against your skin in slow circles, grounding you in the moment.

“You worry too much,” he murmured, his voice softer now, as though the fight in him had dulled with the weight of your concern. “I know what I’m doing.”

“You think you do, but you don’t,” you whispered back, your voice almost breaking. “You think throwing yourself into danger is some kind of answer, that it’ll make you feel something, or prove something– either to them, or to yourself. I don’t know, but one day, Barty, it’s going to be too much, and you–”

You cut yourself off, biting down on your lip to keep your voice from shaking. You weren’t sure how to finish that sentence. Thoughts often consumed you of a world where Barty’s recklessness finally caught up to him, your own unhealthy way of coping with your feelings for him. He had his fists, you had your thoughts, and you both had your spirals. The thought of losing him scared you more than anything else.

His fingers tightened around yours, and his eyes flicked madly between yours and your lip you realised had quivered ever so slightly. For a moment, you thought he might agree, that he might actually take what you were saying to heart, but then that familiar smirk curled back up on his lips, and his mask slid into place again.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice low, smooth, with that edge of defiance you knew so well. “Not unless you’re coming with me.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding against your ribcage. The way he said it, like it was so simple, like the idea of you not being by his side was unthinkable, made your chest tighten. But it didn’t erase the fear that gnawed at your insides, the knowledge that Barty didn’t care about consequences in the same way you did. He only knew how to burn, and he didn’t care if he burned out in the process.

You took a breath, trying to steady yourself. “You can’t keep fighting for me, Barty. I don’t need–”

“Don’t,” he cut you off. His eyes flashed, something dangerous sparking behind them. “Don’t tell me I can’t fight for you. Don’t tell me to sit back and let people say whatever the hell they want. You are mine to protect, Treasure, whether you like it or not.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. There it was again—that raw, possessive streak that ran through Barty like a current, so powerful it was almost overwhelming. The way he looked at you, like you were the one thing in the world that made sense to him, the one thing he could claim as his own, made your heart race. It wasn’t the first time he’d said something like this– something that hinted at what you both knew was there between you.

He never said “I love you,” never asked for anything, but this– this was his way of showing it. He’d destroy anything, anyone, who threatened what was his.

“I am,” you relented softly. “But I usually don’t need protecting. Not like this.”

Barty’s jaw clenched, and he pulled you closer, his forehead resting against yours. His breath was warm against your skin, the scent of smoke still clinging to him.

“Maybe not,” he murmured, his voice so low it was almost a growl. “But I need to protect you. Please understand.”

You froze at that, blinking up at him. His eyes were locked onto yours, and for once, there was no smirk, no playful deflection. Just raw, unfiltered passion. You could see the truth of it there, in the way his fingers held yours so tightly, like he was afraid to let go. 

In his eyes, you understood this part of him more closely. This was the only thing that made him feel like he was in control, like he had some kind of power over the chaos in his life. His father’s expectations, the pressure to be perfect, the constant disappointment looming over him. It all faded when he was with you. With you, he wasn’t a failure. He was needed because he was yours.

Heat rose in your cheeks, the air between you thick with unspoken words, unspoken feelings. His thumb traced the inside of your wrist, sending shivers up your arm. You closed your eyes, trying to find the words, but they stuck in your throat. 

“Barty,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I… I do understand. But for the same reason, I need you to be safe.”

He swallowed and nodded briefly, his hair falling into his eyes, and consequently yours, black and green strands filling your vision. You laughed a bit, tension clearing for half a second, as you freed one of your hands to push his hair away. You let your hand trail down to ghost across his cheek and jaw.

“Stop treating yourself like you don’t matter,” you whispered.

Whatever remnants of a self-assured smile he had clung to were wiped from his face. He just stared at you, his eyes wide, like he didn’t know what to say. Slowly, as if he was unaware his body was moving, his shoulders slumped, and he leaned further into you, allowing the wall you were leaned against to keep you both upright.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Yet you could read his lips – a soft do I? – and you let your hand hold his jaw more securely, as you whispered, “You do, Barty. You do. To me.”

Barty didn’t look at you. His jaw was clenched, his eyes staring down at the stone floor as if it held the answers to everything. For a moment, you thought he might pull away again, retreat behind that mask of bravado and chaos that he wore so well, but then, slowly, he lifted his gaze to meet yours, and the raw pain in his eyes nearly took your breath away.

“You really are all I have,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “If I lose you because of some tosser–”

“You won’t,” you cut him off, flattening your other hand over his heart, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath your fingers. “You won’t lose me, Barty. I’m not going anywhere. And neither will you, because I’m not letting you. Wreak havoc as much as you please, but I beg you to be careful.”

Barty’s eyes softened, and he mustered a small smile for you, the one you loved the most. “Well, you know I love it when you beg,” he teased, smile widening when you rolled your eyes and joke scoffed at him. You couldn’t hide your grin – exactly what he was aiming for.

“Very funny, Junior, but I do mean it.”

“I know you do,” he whispered, closing his eyes as he leaned into your touch. Then, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it: “I’m sorry.”

Before he could say another word, you shook your head, humming in disagreement. “Don’t apologise, love, not for caring.”

“No, no. Just sorry for worrying you, s’all.” His eyes remained shut, and your heart ached in acknowledgement of how hard that must be for him to say.

“All I need you to do is be a bit more careful in your chaos and mischief, ‘kay?” You moved your face tentatively closer to his, admiring his features when his guard is down.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, opening his eyes to look into yours with a small smile playing across his lips. His hands came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he muttered, his voice a mix of frustration and affection. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest. “Just… stay with me.”

For a moment, there was silence. The flicker of the torchlight cast long shadows on Barty’s face, highlighting the vulnerability in his eyes, the way his lips parted like he was about to say something but couldn’t quite bring himself to.

His hands were still on your face, warm and grounding, and you leaned into his touch, feeling the heat of him against your skin. Your nose barely brushed his as you did, and you could swear his breath hitched. With so much raw emotion in the air between you, you let your heart dictate your actions, and you closed the small gap between you, kissing him tentatively.

It was far from the first kiss you and Barty shared, but it was much softer than the others. This was not a drunken party kiss, neither of you were aiming for distraction or entertainment. It felt oddly pure as he kissed you back passionately, but slowly, allowing it to hang between you. This was him letting you in, letting himself be intimate and vulnerable.

“I’ll stay with you,” Barty finally whispered once you separated ever so slightly, his voice so low it was barely audible. “Always.”

He said it with such conviction, such raw honesty, that you knew he meant it. The knot of anxiety that had rested strongly in your chest loosened at his words, reassurance and safety washing over you. 

“Then stop fighting like you’ve got nothing left to lose,” you said softly, your fingers tracing along his neck. “Because you have me, and I'm not letting you go.”

“I have you,” he repeated, looking as if he was deep in thought. His hands tightened on your face, expression hardening for a moment. 

“I want you to know that I’m not on some ego power trip, I’m not like that.” He trailed off, his brow furrowing as if he couldn’t quite find the right words. “It’s about making sure they know I’m not weak. That we’re not weak. It makes me feel, I don’t know… safer.”

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, smiling to reassure him. “I know you’re not. You’re… scared, which probably feels even worse. But we are okay, we’re fine.”

He swallowed hard, his eyes flickering with something – doubt, maybe, or fear. It was rare to see him uncertain, for a boy who usually lived in absolutes and extremes. You knew how hard it was for him to let anyone see the cracks in his armour, even you, but there was a part of him, the part that clung to you like you were his lifeline, that wanted to believe you. The part you needed to foster.

He let out a shaky breath, nodding slightly again, and for a moment, you both just stood there, the tension between you shifting into something more intimate. His hands slid down from your face to rest on your shoulders, then your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, entirely flush against one another.

“I’m not scared,” he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual conviction. It was like he was speaking to himself more than you.

You smiled faintly, shaking your head. “Liar.”

A huff of laughter escaped his lips, though it was tinged with exhaustion. “Maybe a little,” he admitted, his tone softening in a way it rarely did with anyone but you. “Can you blame me?”

“I never blame you, love.” You leaned down to rest your head against his shoulder, feeling his breathing move you. He hummed at that, but didn't move to say anything else.

“I don’t need you to be perfect, Barty,” you whispered, playing with his hair. “I just need you to stop tearing yourself apart. I just need you to let me care for you like you care for me.”

His arms tightened around you, and you could feel the tension in his muscles, the way he was still fighting some internal battle you couldn’t fully understand.

“You make it sound so easy,” he murmured, his lips brushing the top of your head.

“It’s not,” you said quietly, your fingers tracing lazy patterns along his back. “But you don’t have to do it alone.”

Barty was silent for a long time, his arms still wrapped around you, his breath slow and steady against your hair. You could feel the weight of his emotions pressing down on him, the years of anger and frustration and fear that he’d carried with him for so long. Then, you felt him press a hard kiss to the crown of your head.

“You’re the only thing that makes me feel like… like I’m not falling apart,” he admitted, his words barely above a whisper. Your heart clenched at his confession, and you lifted your head to look up at him. 

“You’re not falling apart,” you said softly, your hand coming up to cup his cheek. “Not while I’m here, I won’t let you.”

Barty’s eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite name, and before you could react, his lips were on yours again, soft, tentative, but full of the intensity you had come to expect from him. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer, and you could feel the raw desperation in his kiss, the way he was clinging to you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

When his lips left yours, his face barely moved, noses still touching and his breath fanning your face. The both of you stood breathing heavily in the quiet hallway, and you came to realise how grateful you should be no one had walked past yet. His eyes searched yours, as if looking for some kind of confirmation that you were still there, that you hadn’t disappeared.

Barty’s lips curled into a small, tired smile, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw a flicker of peace in his eyes.

“I’ll be good. Just… stay with me,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

You smiled softly, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “Always.”

[r3starttt]

OBLIVIATE | 01

ellabs x reader | series m.list | > CHAPTER TWO

CW: modern!au. +18 content. poly relationship. POC friendly. | dom! ellabs x sub! reader. college encounter (study session). praising. overstim. edging. threesome. finger sucking. fingering.

SUMMARY: College life quickly became overwhelming with drunken teens, constant disruptions, and the flaunting of wealth, pushing you to prefer solitude until you found yourself striving for perfection, craving approval, and immersing yourself in that lifestyle despite initially finding it insufferable. As summer break approached, exam stress mounted, but hey, now you've got some help.

CHERRY COLOURED FUNK

You were born to be perfect. So were they. Perhaps that's why you bonded so effortlessly.

The day was warm, and all you could think about was reaching your dorm, meeting your roommate, and escaping the suffocating presence of your family. A bunch of privileged stupid individuals who brought you to this esteemed institution just to counter anyone who dared to question their, and soon your, intellectual superiority by flaunting your attendance at a very prestigious college.

Two kisses, one on each cheek. Your mother's final words were, "Don't take any of this too seriously." Little did she know what lay ahead. In fact, little did you know too.

Your room was dull, far more formal than you had anticipated. Sunlight streamed through the plain brown curtains. It felt a bit suffocating even.

Voices echoed from all directions, all comming from what seemed like the main garden.

One voice in particular caught your attention as you peeked through the curtains.

A tall blonde girl stood out, a sweater draped over her shoulders with its arms knotted in front of her chest. She wore a brown t-shirt that clung to her toned frame and a pair of vintage jeans.

Beside her was a shorter auburn-haired girl, a cigarette in hand. Her attire was less conservative.

Even from their hairstyles, you could tell which one came from a rich family and which one didn't care about it. the blonde had her hair neatly braided; the other sported a messy bun.

You met the blonde's eyes, her grou still talking and laughing ridiculously loud. She murmured something to the girl on her side. You could tell she wanted to look too.

You closed the curtains, hoping the day would end quickly.

-

One week into college, you were already overwhelmed. Drunken teens roamed everywhere, not even the fun kind. There was constant joking and bossing around. Classes were frequently interrupted by wealthy kids flaunting their impunity. 'I'm the reason you have a job'

That's one of the main reasons so far you've decided to stay on your own. Having private aproachments with some teachers at the end or beggining of the class, making sure they knew you. Also making yourself comfortable in the library, religiously before going back to your dorm to sleep.

"Is this seat taken?" You barely heard the question, too absorbed in the music playing through your headphones. You shook your head, moving your chair and books to make space for whoever wanted to sit next to you, in the nearly empty library. Guess the luck was over.

As you took your headphones off you immediately recognized who they were. Have you got yourself in trouble just by looking at them?

"We wanted to approach to you since the first day, but you always seem busy" the blonde one spoke. She seemed quite sophisticated, from the way she talked to the way she sat. It did a nice contrast with her appearance, built and big.

"She's been kind of stalking you." The auburn sitting in front of you both spoke. She looked like the type of girl everyone wants to be friend with. And maybe she was considering she had got herself way too comfortable with you already. Teasing and moving her legs over the chair.

The girl next to you simply rolled her eyes, clearly embarrassed by the not so fake admission.

"So, I'm Abby... uhm, Anderson. And she's—" the auburn interrupted, introducing herself "Ellie"

"Williams" Abby finished for her.

-

Months went by after that first interaction.

You realized that the only way to be perfect in your parents' eyes was to embrace this lifestyle, which was probably the only reason you gave them a chance on the first place.

But it all turned into an obsession. You craved perfection, setting impossible standards for yourself and others that you felt like achieving, and desperately needed everyone's approval. More specificly, Abby's and Ellie's approval.

So you spent days and nights with them and their friends, sitting on their laps so they could show you off. Letting them put their hands on your waist or in the back pocket of your jeans whenever you walked.

Going to parties with them, getting drunk, and hating yourself for every drop of alcohol that entered your body, knowing you had class the next day.

At first, it was insufferable. Yet it didn't take long for you to adjust.

You started to understand why rich kids acted the way they did. The more time you spent with them, the more you enjoyed it.

You convinced yourself there could never be a better thing than partying until you vomited and making out with the girls you trusted most. You somehow felt safe.

You also realized that the only way to be perfect in your parents' eyes was to embrace this lifestyle, which was probably the only reason you gave them a chance on the first place.

-

Summer break was closer each day and you needed them attached, so far everything was about study sessions, breaks to eat together or rest. Exam season was a nuisance you didn't quite contemplate and you needed to get the job done.

Heavy eyelids stared unfocused at the floor of your dorm. underneath your bed a dark red rug being graced by your suck covered feet. dancing along the fabric.

Ellie was sitting on the floor, already reading through a study guide you had made. She had her head resting on her knee, her eyes scanning the paper spread out on the floor and her pencil on her mouth. A hum escaped her lips as she wrote down what seemed like the answer.

It was the first time you ever accepted their help. Probably the first time you've let them in your dorm, at least sober.

Abby, beside having you comfortably sitting on her, had her glasses on, reading what seemed like theory for another subject. She didn't really need to study much but there was nothing else to do if Ellie was the genius here. Plus she barely got the note to pass that subject last year.

"What's exactly troubling you?" Ellies voice broke your trance.

What really was troubling you wasn't something you could just say out loud. You knew why Abby was here, and it bothered you. Were you ready for this? For them?

You turned your head towards Ellie, processing her words before answering, "uhh I don't- how're you supposed to do-" you gently brushed abbys hand off your waist, sitting next to ellie and pointing to the part of the process you've got lost on.

Abby didn't hesitate, simply gibing your hip a soft squeeze. But you could feel her looking at you, then looking at Ellie and again at her book.

You spent at least the next 8 hours doing exercise over exercise nonstop. Until your eyes felt heavy and your back could barely hold your head up. You needed a break.

You decided to take a look at Abby once Ellie stood up to grab something to eat. It was cheesy of you, but knowing she liked to constantly chew on something, you had bought a few gummies for her.

Abby knew just by the look on your face that you needed something. "Come here," she said, patting her lap.

Her action elicted a smile on you, sheepishly standing from where you had all day sitting. Your bare foot made the wooden floor crack at each step you took closer to Abby.

"You're taking break?" She spoke soothingly to your ear. Taking her glasses off and widening her legs so you could comfortably swing your legs in between hers. You nodded

Her hand patted on the side next to you, confused you shifted your gaze towards the matresss. Ellie came from behind you, grabbing your waist briefly before sitting next to you. You could hear her chewing.

"Don't get to overwhelmed yeah? So far you've done good, and-" Abby's fingers intertwined with yours, dragging your hand to her lips and leaving a soft kiss against your knuckles. "Ellie's gonna be there for you"

Her words did make you forget about your worries for a moment. But you knew if you failed any exam, you'll be proving your family you were just like them, you'll be making them pay a ridiculous amount of money to pretend nothing ever happened. And you could allow yourself that.

"Hey" Ellie spoke, her hand resting on your shoulder "Abby's right, don't overhtink it, yeah?"

You pressed your lips together. Unable to brush your thoughts away. "Let her help you" instictively your eyebrows furrowed at Ellie's words.

Her eyes met Abby's, followed by your own, just now realizing what she meant. "Fucking horny, Ellie" you laughed it off.

Abby kissed you first. It wasn't the first time she did. But you knew this was different. Ellie, as usual, just followed.

's okay if you don't want to' Ellie whispered. Her hands underneath your shirt as you had your back pressed against her chest. Abby had her lips against your neck, her hands gripping at the flesh on your thighs.

"We're taking a break, right?" You replied, making her smile grow. She hummed in agreement, leaving a trail of wet kisses on the other side of your neck.

"Lay down" Abby spoke between kisses. You had to push Ellie away to obbey her order. You could tell by how her breath hitched and how hungrily she pressed her lips against your skin. Ellie had probably dreamt about this.

Both grabbed each side of your body, laying on their respective sides. Abby's fingers dragging your leg bettwen her own making sure you couldn't move it. Ellie did the same with the opposite one.

Her hands desperately took your shirt off, undoing your jeans and making enough space in between your legs.

You were ridiculously wet already. Feeling abby trace her fingers along your chest, moving your bra underneath your breasts.

Her fingers toyed with your nipple, her teeth against your skin. Ellie kept on sucking at your other breast with such hunger she had already made a mess, her kisses sloppy and wet.

Abby trailed a path down your stomach. Feeling every inch of your skin until she got to the hem of your panties.

Her eyes hadn't missed a single reaction of yours. Your head pressed against the matress, wanting to close your leg; aching for the smallest friction against your clit. And she was willing to give her girl just what she wanted.

"Ellie" Abby mutters, making her turn her attention to her. Just with the look on her eyes, Ellie understood.

Her hands moved under Abby's, chuckling against your skin "You're so wet" your breath hitched at her words. The feeling itself. It was all too overwhelming.

Ellie made sure to rub her fingers against your clothet core. Pressing over it, feeling your arousal grow at every move Abby made against your clit.

Your lips let out pleads to both, their names comming out in a shaky acute tone.

"Shhh you can take more babe" Ellie coos. Your answer being interrupted by Abby abruptly taking her hand off your clit.

Her now wet fingers gently tugging at your hardened nipple again, pinching such sensitive bud between her fingers. 

"Keep them wide for me, yeah?" Ellie's lips pressed against yours before you felt her fingers inside your underwear.

She starts slow, harshly rubbing circles over your clit. Abby's fingers travelling to your mouth to keep you shut, her mouth licking on your skin, eventually letting out gentle praises for you. 'such a good girl'

You moan and whine, gaging on her fingers. "Doing so good for us" Abby whispers, meeting your face. She looked so proud, seeing you all fucked up, your pretty lips around her fingers.

And you suddenly joint. Ellie's fingers inside you already, thrusting your core with ease. "Hear that" Ellie remarks shaking her hand in disbilief, Abby laughs with her, mocking you and how desperate you've got for them. "So wet, huh?"

The grip Abby had on your stomach looses, feeling her hands slowly sliding down on your clit, toying with it again at an unsteady peace, slowing down each time she hears your breath go faster, every time she sees your stomach clenching or whenever she feels you pulsating.

You shut your eyes close, unable to do anything else than let yourself get drunk on pleasure.

Ellie's whines overlap with your own. Feeling herself grow wet at each thrust she makes on your cunt. Feeling you clench around her, feeling your arousal making a mess on her hand.

"You can take it baby" just hearing Abby's voice makes you want to sob. "P-Please" you whine, your hands clenching around nothing, feeling yourself closer to the orgasm you so much desire.

"Oh you're gonna cum for us?" Abby coos. Smiling at your breathless cries. "She's so close" Ellie murmurs, feeling your walls tight around her fingers.

"Y-Yeah" your eyebrows knitted together as Ellie's thrusts became erratic. Abbys fingers still overstimulating your puffy clit, scissoring your folds just to not give you all the pleasure.

You cry as you reach your climax, feeling a warm hand against your cheek. "Shh shh"

Their hands tease you just a few seconds after you've reached your high. Feeling you shake underneath them. Your thighs jumping one last time before they let go.

Your eyes open, noticing your erratic breath show underneath your falling chest.

Ellie's fingers move with ease toward Abby's lips, and she simply takes them, licking your arousal off her hand.

"Fuck" you breath out, resting your head against the matress again, laying between them.

Reblogs and Comments very much appreciated!!!

- taglist: @softlysunrays @eyesfullofsttars <33 | @cowboylu @ennabear @satellitespinner @flowrmoth @tohoko @bambishaven @luciaaa-aa @be3flow3r @f4riedimples

[bananayuyu]

Cleaning Up

Pairing: Mingi x f reader

Genre: angst, eventual fluff and smut

Word count: 7.7k

Summary: Months after being convinced to join Mingi on tour, you can't help but ruminate on the events of the last year of your life. Despondent, you start making choices and saying things that just aren't like you. In the heat of the moment everything comes out, not in the way you wanted; but maybe, it was just the way things were meant to unfold all along.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, reader is depressed, Mingi and reader argue, unprotected sex

A/n: I don't usually write things this angsty but the idea came to me after finishing Making a Mess and I just couldn't stop writing it. I hope you enjoy! <3

This is a part 2/expansion of Making a Mess, which is linked here so you can read it for some context if you'd like. This can also be read as a stand alone fic just fine! (I think, lmk if this isn't true)

<^><^><^><^><^><^>

You walk down the hallway of the hotel, the florescent lights making you squint to the ground. Another night of tour, another pounding headache. And here you were trudging to your room, sure to find a mountain of texts and emails in need of responses, another random hotel room bed waiting to embrace you. You're sure this one has pillows that will leave your neck a knotted mess in the morning, just like all the others. You're tired of this, tired of your body feeling like it has one use and one use only, tired of feeling like it's falling apart on you. This was supposed to be a break from monotony, an exciting new change. A chance to both rest and do exciting things.

Pulling out your key card you slot it through the lock, the light on the handle lighting up green. You push it open, almost dropping your bag as it slides off your shoulder and catches painfully on your upper arm.

"Ow," you mutter, crumpling to the floor in lieu of setting it down. The room is mostly dark, illuminated only by the city lights outside. You see through the window that next door is another hotel. Another hotel. You'd truly had enough. It was time to switch up the routine, at least a little. You couldn't bare to spend another night struggling to fall asleep in a hotel you didn't deserve to be in.

Leaving your bag behind you make your way back to the elevator, back to the lobby. The front door swings open and a chilly breeze hits you, making you shiver instantly. Your shorts and t-shirt might not be the most comfortably at this hour, but in your mentally exhausted state the shiver feels good. Any sort of feeling, really, was good. Anything new, anything different.

You bust through the doors, greeted by the cool night air, gripping your phone and key card tightly as you snake past a group of obviously tipsy businessmen. One says something to you but you don't even make out the words, trembling as you stalk by them without looking up. Harsh, fierce anxiety lances through you and suddenly you feel scared, like something terrible is about to happen. You know you're in the nicest part of the city, the streets well lit and a team of security always present outside the hotel. It isn't a rational feeling, the impending doom that's hitting you. But it's there and it's crushing, making your breath shaky as you walk down the street towards nothing in particular.

It was nearly five months ago that the two of you met, at a party thrown after the biggest fashion show you'd ever worked. It was supposed to be the highlight of your career as a makeup artist and up-and-coming designer, but truthfully you were so burnt out by the time it happened, so completely exhausted by your boss, that the whole event had passed you in a blur. You couldn't remember a single thing about that day but the dread you felt at the sound of your alarm, the panic staying with you all day even as you sipped a sweet cocktail, mingling in a way you really didn't want to but knew you should. For the betterment of your career, which you thought you so cared about.

And in the middle of the terrible day turned terrible night, there Mingi was. The group of designers he had come with were fretting around him, making their way to the bar to order their drinks. You hadn't moved far from the bar after grabbing yours, unable to actually make yourself go and introduce yourself to people like you said you would. Like you'd promised your boss you would. Your mind was so blank you weren't sure you'd even be able to form a sentence. But then he spoke to you, this striking stranger with the deepest eyes you'd ever seen, eyes that made you want to dive in and explore the entirety of his head.

Sure, the sex that night was amazing. It truly was, you shouldn't undersell it; but really the thing that stuck with you was what he said afterwards, while you both were tangled up in the sheets of your bed. Why are you doing it if you hate it? he'd asked you. And you'd explained that really you didn't hate it, you just hated your boss, your fashion company. You loved fashion and makeup and everything about that world, but you couldn't take another day of watching every one of your coworkers go home crying, your cruel boss tearing everyone down in front of you constantly. Except you, for some reason. I don't deserve her kindness, I don't know why she likes me, you'd said. No, she doesn't deserve your talent, he'd replied.

And then when he was leaving, his final parting words; You deserve so much more than that woman. Oh, it was simple platitudes. An easy thing for him to say to a girl he'd just been fucking, a girl he might want to still be able to fuck in the future. You knew that was probably the case, that he just wanted to play nice. It's no fun when your hookup starts telling you how fucking depressed she is, how beaten down by her job she is. Immediately upon him leaving you spent the night bashing yourself, screaming into the void that you never should have brought it up. Why am I always such a blabbermouth after sex? you thought. You spent days feeling regret, which finally turned to just embarrassment. But then he texted you, and you'd gone and had a late dinner, you both completely exhausted from your inhumanely long work days. In your delirious state you laughed together, grabbing desert on the way to your place, where again he fucked you senseless, his eyes boring into yours afterwards in the complete silence. You'd never had someone look at you so much during sex, or after, and it was exposing. He saw you. He saw in. And finally you had the courage to say fuck it, fuck her, and emailed your boss that you weren't coming back. He celebrated with you that day. Such an intensely intimate moment for two strangers; but really, he didn't feel like a stranger at all.

So the friendship grew. You picked up some freelance makeup work to keep yourself afloat, finally working with a friend on a project he'd begged you to join for months. That was fun until it wasn't, just like every little job was, and you were thankful that you didn't have to stay at any of them for long. You made it work for a little while, your rendezvous with Mingi the true highlight of most of your weeks. Your mind was still elsewhere, still swimming in the clouds as your body went about your life, as you felt like a shell, like someone pretending to be you. Only maybe when you were with him, when he was deep inside you, did you feel present. You could feel like yourself again, if only for a few moments. And god did you need that.

Come with me on tour, he'd said one night, his impending months of travel hanging in the air between you. You laughed, you laughed hard. What a ridiculous notion. But he didn't let it go, not for a second. It was late at night, your post coitus talk drifting off into the darkness as you repeatedly made each other yawn. I'm serious, I need you, he'd said. Again you laughed, how could you not? You weren't dating; this thing between you was very casual, and though you knew you might be dipping into dangerous waters by not defining anything you really couldn't be bothered to care in that moment. It's not possible, though, you'd replied. And then he'd vehemently explained to you how it absolutely, definitely was. It'd taken another week of thinking it over, but then you'd said okay. The opportunity called to you, the chance to get out of the place you'd been grinding in for the last few years and travel the world a bit, with this new friend, or whatever he was. In the end it wasn't that hard of a choice, as the life you were leaving behind wasn't really holding you anymore, wasn't really much of anything. And that did make you sad when you thought about it for too long, so you pushed the feeling down and surrendered instead to the excitement of the new opportunity. You'd lied to your mom, saying you were employed as a makeup artist for the tour; it made you a little sick to lie to her, but you didn't know what else to say. The guy I've been fucking wants me to come? I hate my life so I agreed to? You didn't want to break her heart or make her worry. Even with some of your friends you skirted around the truth, not wanting them to worry either.

And now as you walk down the street, as your legs shake in the night, you really wish someone knew just how awful it all felt. Just what a dumb situation you'd gotten yourself into. Day in and day out he'd fuck you, often in the completely exposed hallways of the arenas, making you come repeatedly while looking into your eyes deeply, making your stomach clench with feelings you really, really didn't want to admit you were having. Though you got along well and could talk for hours, it was clear to you that it really was just sex to him. Since tour started you'd barely spend a day together that didn't involve him inside of you, and you'd begun to resent the time you spent with the actual makeup team for the tour. You'd been grateful for their company at first, especially one woman you'd clicked with immediately, but slowly you couldn't avoid feeling jealous at how well they were all treated by their boss, jealous that they could pursue their dreams and it wasn't crushing them. And then there were the members of staff that had stumbled upon you and Mingi in the act, who looked at you completely differently now, like you were sick or disturbed. It all began to eat at you, especially that you found the humiliation and the intensity of it desirable, that even though it pained you, you couldn't stop craving the public sex, already horny for him before his break in the show was even close. You felt so fucking shameful for doing what you had done. Touring with a band, just so that one of the members could fuck you when he pleased? How had you ended up here? A quick thought of childhood you, of her hopes and her dreams of success in the industry, made tears instantly form in your eyes and begin falling. Stop it, stop crying, you begged yourself. The lights from the corner store blurred between your tears, and suddenly you realized you'd walked further than intended, and you didn't know where you were.

Opening your phone to pull up a map, you saw the text.

Mingi: I'm coming over, be there in like 10

Sent almost ten minutes ago. You held your breath for a moment, waiting for another text. But it didn't come. And then the anger came, boiling up inside you. How fucking presumptuous, you thought. Sure, it wasn't that strange. He'd sent almost identical texts about a dozen times throughout tour. But now it smacked you so plainly, that he just expected you to always be there. Just waiting for him, whenever he wanted you. Like it couldn't be possible you maybe didn't want to see him.

y/n: Don't bother, I'm not even there

It only took a few seconds for his text to appear.

Mingi: Are you okay?

I'm fucking great, actually, you wanted to say. You rolled your eyes, feet stuck to the sidewalk, the line of trees you were under feeling like good protection.

y/n: yes

That was all you had, even though you knew it was betraying everything you felt. It was way too weird of a response, too short. Somehing was obvious wrong. You groaned as you saw his call coming through, your phone lighting up like a beacon in the dark night.

"Hi," you say, not even trying to make your voice sound bright or normal.

"Y/n, where are you?" Mingi asks.

"Why do you care?" you respond, already feeling embarrassed by your behavior.

"You don't need to be nasty with me, I'm just checking on you," he replies, keeping his voice steady.

"I told you I'm okay," you respond, sighing heavily.

"You obviously aren't, you're not acting like yourself," he says, his tone hard to read. All you can think is that he's disappointed, mad that you're not where he expected you to be.

"You say that like you know me well," you respond, huffing.

"I do..." he trails off, voice low. Like he's contemplating how to respond to you, how to continue this conversation.

"Fucking me doesn't really equate to getting to know me," you say, your tone laced with anger. "I just felt like going for a walk tonight, I've spent so many evenings in hotel rooms recently and a midnight walk just sounded nice. Like I said, I'm fine."

"You're walking outside?" he asks.

"Mm-hmm," you respond, your tone unkind.

"By yourself?"

"Mm-hmm."

"You shouldn't be out there, you promised me," he says, sighing deeply.

"Mingi, I really don't get why it matters. I'm a fucking adult, I can go for a walk when I fucking feel like it," you retort, even angrier. How dare he tell you what you should or shouldn't be doing.

"I'm coming with Yubin to get you," he says, and you hear the elevator opening for him through the phone.

"Can you just let me do what I want, for once?" you groan, crouching down to put your head in your hands, unsure what to do with all of the frustration you're feeling.

"You're being a real asshole right now, and I don't know why, but I'm not letting you get lost in a fucking foreign country. Tell me where you are," he spits, finally losing control of the even tone he'd kept so far.

"I. Don't. Know. Mingi," you say slowly, like he's stupid. God it's embarrassing, the way you're being so uncharacteristically nasty, but you just can't help it. You feel so genuinely out of control, your entire body shaking with anger and dread. He had been there with you to help you finally quit your horrible job, been there during the tumultuous time afterwards while you jumped from job to job, trying every day to assure yourself and everyone else that you were doing fine. The money might be less, but you were actually eating and sleeping enough most days, and that had to count for something. You'd been connected to him then, had those little moments of support. And that was why you'd come on tour, or at least part of the reason. Now he'd been much more distant, not a conversation between you that remotely resembled your old talks. After sex he'd be running back to stage, or passing out in your hotel bed instantly, the exhaustion from tour clearly affecting him. You could understand it from an intellectual point of view, but it didn't mean your feelings weren't hurt.

"I could fucking kill you right now," he sighs through the phone, the sound of the elevator arriving on the eighth floor coming through too. "Look for some street signs, find the cross streets," he demands, softly. "Y/n please," he begs, your quiet resolve breaking, the tears threatening to come again.

"Fine," you say, squinting out towards the intersection ahead of you, the street names hard to read from so far. "Um, one is Rolling.. Heels? Or no, Hills, I think. And the other must be, fuck, whatever street our hotel is on. I can't remember."

"Thank you," he says, the words clearly painful coming out of his mouth. "Promise me you won't move," he sighs, his hand knocking on the door of his manager's room.

"I promise," you sigh, your tone sounding sarcastic.

"Y/n, I swear to god..." Mingi groans.

"I promise, I mean it," you respond, your tone more solid. You really do mean it, you really will be here waiting. Because even if you're pissed at him you're thankful someone is coming to your rescue as you shiver, your body feeling so weak you're not even sure you could make it back to the hotel. As you trudged down the street you hadn't noticed how exhausted you were, your head full of every memory of the last year. It wasn't until you were on the phone with him that it hit you.

"Okay, we'll be there in a few minutes, don't move an inch. And call me if anything weird happens," he says before saying goodbye, hanging up as you hear him start to tell his manager Yubin what's happening.

It takes mere minutes for them to reach you, and you climb into the back seat behind Mingi, behind the passenger side. Neither of you say a word as you climb in, the click of your buckle loud in the tense silence of the car. Slowly Yubin presses on the gas again, gliding back down the road towards the hotel. Mingi reaches his left hand back around his seat to grab your angle gently, sighing at the contact proving that you're fine, that you're here with him. Even if you're not saying a word and clearly pissed at him, the dominating emotion he's feeling still is fear, worry that something's terribly wrong. And at least now he knows you're physically okay, that no one's taken you. When you exit the car, having finally parked in the underground garage, Mingi unzips his hoodie and wraps it around you, hating the way your body subtly fights his every movement even though you're clearly so cold.

In the elevator you still didn't speak a word to either of them, your eyes glued to the floor. When the doors open to your floor you step out quickly, relieved that you'd finally be able to be by yourself again, to bury yourself in one of your books or just bury your face in the pillows, to just be. For a few steps the relief washes over you, until you realize that Mingi is following close behind, his whole being looking ragged with exhaustion and anger.

"Why are you following me?" you spit, not bothering to even look back at him. You unlock your door and he slips inside behind you, closing it gently. With a long sigh he turns to you, your arms crossed as you stare at him, petulant.

"I'm staying here with you tonight so you don't run off again," he states, like it's plain as day.

"But I don't want that," you snap, the anger boiling over now. "Do you ever consider what I fucking want?! Does the thought ever cross your mind that maybe I have feelings?!"

"I get that you don't want me here right now, I'm getting that loud and clear, but you just went walking off in a foreign country in the middle of the night without telling me. And I'm the reason you're fucking here, so I kind of feel responsible for your wellbeing. We can book you a flight home tomorrow, or I can give you space for the rest of tour, or whatever it is that you want, but I will not let you go walking off like that again. You don't know this city, you don't know anyone who lives in this city. That was fucking stupid, what you just did," he says, his own arms coming to cross over his chest. Now yours fall, in defeat. It pains you because he's right, but the idea of admitting that makes you feel edgy, like you'll fall to pieces in an instant.

You groan into your hands, sitting down at the breakfast table in the corner of your room, on one of the grossly fancy chairs. The wood armrests feel cold against the side of your thighs, your elbows resting against the table as you run your hands through your hair in frustration, your head coming to rest on the table too. Already your anger is morphing into just exhaustion, just upset. Tears are coming again, and you try to sob silently, try not to make a big scene in front of him. But your sniffles give you away, the way you're wiping your cheeks with the sleeve of his hoodie, burying your head in your arms.

"Y/n, what's wrong?" he asks, standing against the wall as far from you as he can be in this room. His arms are still crossed over his chest but you're not even looking; from the sound of his voice, though, you can tell he's far away. Suddenly you feel like a bomb about to go off, like he's avoiding you for fear of triggering the explosion. It makes you even more ashamed, that you're acting out, that you aren't holding yourself together like you usually do. That you're so obviously falling apart in front of him.

"I'm exhausted," you manage, between sobs.

"Then why don't you lay down and get some sleep?" he asks gently.

"I can't fucking sleep!" you snap, finally looking up at him with red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. "I can't sleep, that's the fucking problem, I'm so fucking anxious every night," you spit, your breaths shaky as you let the tears keep falling.

"Y/n..." Mingi replies, sighing hard as he stares into your eyes, your head clearly full of worry and pain and every other bad feeling. He doesn't know what to do or say to make it better, but he feels his body pulled towards yours, like coming closer must be the correct thing to do. You stare him down as he walks closer, as he sits down to the side of the chair you're in, grabbing one of your hands and putting it between his own. He stares at it for a moment, seeing how rough and battered your nail beds look, and the healing cut on your pointer finger that you got two weeks ago when one of his rings slid past it in just the wrong way. When he looks up at you to meet your gaze you see the glint of possible tears forming, his head swimming with worry too. It makes you feel things too deep in your chest, too painful for you to bear it.

"Stop," you say, but it's so soft and lacking in strength that you clearly don't mean it, at least not entirely. You bury your head in your hands again, as Mingi keeps staring up at you, his chest pained at how you just reeled away from him.

"Do you want to go home tomorrow?" he asks, to no response. You're silently dealing with your rapid heart beat, dealing with the way that his look made you teeter on the edge of emotional collapse. Not even a grunt escapes your lips, as you mull over what he had just asked you. Why the hell could he read your mind so easily?

"Y/n, please talk to me. Please tell me what's going on," he pleads, a hand on your ankle like it was in the car, anchoring him again with the knowledge that at least you're here in front of him.

"You don't want to hear it, I promise you," you respond, sharply inhaling and slowly letting it out.

"Why is that?" he asks.

"Cause it's gonna piss you off, probably," you say, a few tears running down your cheeks again.

"I figured this was about me," he says, still looking up. Your head snaps to him again, your face stony.

"Um, yeah," you say, proud of yourself for not also adding a duh.

"So tell me what I did," he says, his grip on your ankle tightening slightly.

"No, stop," you squeak out, the tears turning to sobs in a moment as you crumple in on yourself again. Your shoulders heave and you breathe deeply as you try to not start full-on wailing. You're in no state to talk, no state to answer him, and with your head spinning the way it is you have no idea what nasty, vitriolic language might spill out of you if you do. As embarrassing as it feels you hope your tears will make him at least stop pressing you, maybe even totally step away and leave you be, finally.

"No," he replies sternly, much to your surprise. "I need to know what's going on. I- I told y- you promised me, that we would talk if you weren't feeling well on tour or if you were mad at me. I told you that would have to happen, cause it always does on tour, everyone is so exhausted and the highs are high so the lows are low, and people always fight. It happens every fucking tour, I told you it would. But you promised me you'd talk to me, and, I don't know if you remember, but you also literally promised not to do exactly what you did tonight. You promised not to go out by yourself anywhere at night." Your sobs haven't ceased, but you feel momentarily some clarity about everything, thinking back to the very conversation Mingi just brought up, and how happy you felt when you finally agreed to come with him. How thoughtful he'd seemed then, how mature your conversation was. And now everything felt stilted and passive aggressive, you totally unable to be honest with him in the way you thought you could be.

"I- I didn't realize it would be like this," you sob, pulling your knees into your chest.

"Like what?" he asks.

"I didn't realize I'd start to feel so used," you manage through shaky breaths.

"Why do you feel used?" Mingi asks you, a look of what seems to be genuine confusion on his face. It makes you so angry.

"Mingi, oh my god," you mutter, your sobs giving way now to angry breaths.

"What?" he asks again.

"Oh my god, is it not fucking obvious?! You fuck me night after night in the middle of fucking arenas! And then I have to hobble down to the closest bathroom and clean myself up with shitty one-ply toilet paper, cover up the smell of your fucking cum with perfume that I fucking hate, and walk back to the greenroom like everyone doesn't know what just happened. And then after the concert just, wait around in another fucking hotel room so you can come and have me again before passing out, your five alarms waking me up so that I can't even get a full night of sleep, and then I have to get myself up, get ready for a plane ride, arrive in a new city and do it all fucking over again. How the fuck do you think that makes me feel??" you scream, completely unaware of just how loud you're being. Now that it's finally coming out it's surging, the anger that had been building for weeks (and honestly your whole damn life) finally breaking free.

"I-" Mingi stops himself, feeling like he was just smacked in the face with the force of your words. "I thought you liked doing semi-public stuff," he says, speaking slowly and clearly trying to choose his words carefully.

"Yeah, well, the novelty of that has worn off now," you sob, staring down at him. "It doesn't exactly feel good having everyone look at me like I'm fucking crazy," you continue, wiping the snot and tears form your face with your bare hand.

"I knew it was- god- I knew it was a lot for you. I could tell, the look in your eye..." Mingi trails off, himself curling into a ball. "I- you know I'd never make you do something you didn't want to, right? I thought, I really thought you liked it like that..." he trails off again, failing at trying to find the perfect words for the situation. "I don't know what to say, I'm just so sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry- god, I- never should have asked you to come with me, I should have known it would be hard on you. I- I should have known that I'm not fun to be around while I'm touring. I'm fucking exhausted myself. I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry." His apologies make your chest ache, that feeling deep within you beating on the walls of your heart to finally be let free. But you still suppress it, still you push it down. Just because he's apologizing doesn't mean he feels the same, and you spiral with the knowledge that in your burnt out state you got yourself into a situation that's almost surely about to blow up in your face.

He looks up to meet your eyes, your entire face flush with red and your eyes and nose puffy. Some snot is falling out of one of your nostrils, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth as you try to control your breaths, your body still shaking and your tears still falling fast. Your mind is obviously running a mile a minute still, and behind your eyes he can see just how truly exhausted you are.

"Listen, I'm gonna talk to whoever is giving you weird looks and making you feel crazy, cause that's not fucking cool. I-" A yawn hits him, his whole body shaking momentarily with fatigue. It makes you yawn too, your head feeling so heavy that you might pass out right there in the chair. "We need to talk more about this, but right now you need to get some rest," he says, slowly standing and putting out his hands in an offering of help. "Come on, what would help you sleep?" he asks, leaning down to just pick you up out of the chair when you don't move to grab his hands. Slowly he places you down on the bed, untying your shoes and gently removing them, then removing your socks and placing them on the small pile of dirty clothes already gathered to the side of your suitcase.

"Do you want different shorts to sleep in?" he asks, knowing your activities earlier already ruined this pair. You just whine and take them off yourself, flinging them to the side, your center on full display to him, an obvious line of dried cum snaking down your leg from the small nest of hair. It's so fucking hot, he can't lie, but knowing now how you felt earlier he feels sick inside for liking it. He takes off his own shoes too, removing his shirt and pants before climbing into the bed beside you, turning off the light and lying on his side a good two feet away, gazing intently at your face.

"Hey, get under the covers," he says, tugging on the duvet and forcing you to lift your hips so he can pull it down and then over you.

"Can I hold you, would that help?" he asks, pulling it up over himself as well. You just roll to face him, snuggling your face into his bare chest instead of answering him. He comes to wrap his arms around you, his embrace tight and full of care, and it makes the tears start flowing softly again. He feels them on the skin of his chest, holding you even closer as he kisses the top of your head, wrapping his legs up around yours.

"Have I told you lately how much I appreciate that you came with me?" he asks in to the darkness of the room. You shake your head, sniffling as more tears fall. "I'm- I'm sorry, I should have said it more. I think it every day," he says, his voice shaky. "I think about you every day. I- don't know what my life would look like right now if I hadn't met you. I care about you, so much, seriously. The last thing I want is for you to feel like I'm just using you for your body, or for a release. I just want to- I want you to have fun, with me, to forget about the serious things. You think too much, you exhaust yourself, and I want to distract you from that. So that you can just live. That's why I asked you to come on tour with me, that's why I've been fucking you backstage, not just because I need it but because I thought you did too. But now I see I wasn't thinking about everything else. I didn't think about just how busy I'd be and how distracted I'd get and how you might feel like I'm not even thinking of you..."

He lets the silence envelop you both, as he holds onto you tight, feeling you still shake.

"You being here has made things so much better, I could never thank you enough for it. I-" he pauses, and you feel his body tense up. "I really care about you, I care so much. I want you to feel that, to know that," he says, sighing softly when he's finished.

You can't help but wonder if he really meant to say another four letter word, that it was there on his tongue but he chickened out, and the thought makes your insides melt. Because that's the four letter word that you've continually buried deep within yourself, the word you've associated with him for several months now, if you were honest. You really didn't think it was likely that he felt the same, even if he did seem to care about you as a person. You just couldn't be sure; maybe it was the mental state you were in, the way everything was filtered through your foggy thoughts, the way nothing felt concrete or knowable. You'd been swimming in confusing feelings ever since you quit your old job, the feelings about him feeling unimportant compared to everything else that was so serious. But now, curled up in his arms and finally letting out all the pent up anger and sadness, your feelings towards him felt like maybe the most important. The way you could just break down, the way you had yelled earlier and he hadn't panicked with you, that he'd stayed grounded and helped you come back down to earth, that seemed like the thing you should be paying attention to. The way you were so comfortable with him, that you'd let him have you in public. Because even today in that all too familiar hallway, as you entered the bathroom to finally clean up, he'd made you feel better in an instant, just by simply kissing your nose. And maybe it was brief, the relief you felt in that moment, but it was there. It was real. That, you could be sure of, despite the fogginess of almost everything else.

Finally your tears had ceased, your body no longer shaking. You felt like a total rag doll, your energy so completely spent. You pulled back your face from Mingi's chest, wiping away the tears and snot from your cheeks, looking up at his barely visible face. He leans forward and places a gentle kiss on your lips, tasting the saltiness of your tears that had been falling for the last little while.

"Do you feel any better?" he asks you, stroking a hand across your cheek, wiping the remaining tears away.

"Mm-hmm," you murmur, but the look in your eye is still not completely void of pain.

"You still mad at me?" he asks, smiling.

"Mm-hmm," you pout, staring up at him with your big beautiful eyes, his body reacting involuntarily to just how adorable you look. And you know exactly the affect it has on him, when you look at him that way. You just didn't know that it's elevated now with your nose red from crying, the way you look like you so desperately need his care.

"Y/n..." he murmurs, fixing you with a soft gaze. "Don't look at me like that..."

You giggle, your head swimming with complicated feelings. Because even now, even after all of that, you can't deny how good his strong thigh feels between your legs, or how much you like it when you feel his eyes on you so attentively.

"What can I do to make it up to you?" he asks, and you giggle again, turning your face into the pillow. "Aren't you, um, exhausted?" he asks, chuckling himself. He knows exactly what that giggle means, he's known you long enough to pick up on that.

"Well..." you respond, looking at him again with that expectant look. Even in your haze of exhaustion you want him, especially after all of those sweet things he'd just said.

"Y/n..." he trails off. The room is dark, so he can't make out everything about you, only the way you giggled and the look in your eye. "You really want that right now?"

He could take you at any time, at the drop of a hat, honestly. But if you felt used earlier, how would it feel now? He'd come to your room tonight to fuck you again, you both knew that. He would be getting what he'd wanted all again, and this time he felt unsure if you really wanted it too, or even if it was a good idea.

"Mingi, please," you whispered, his resolve crumbling in an instant. Those two words were all you had to say and he'd do anything for you, anything at all. He kissed you deeply, your bodies still entangled in a tight embrace, the kiss feeling more full of emotion than any previous one you'd shared. You felt his heart beating against you, like it was the first time all over again, like he was nervous and unsure of what he'd do next.

Suddenly he pulled back with a deep sigh. "Before we do that, just, I need to say one more thing. I chickened out earlier, I wanted to say it, and I didn't, I don't know why. I fucking love you, if that wasn't already clear. You need to know that."

Oh how good it felt to be right. Your heart clenched in your chest, your heart rate picking up the moment he began talking. You could feel it coming, but you weren't prepared for how good it would feel to hear those words from him. It was like flowers were blossoming in your body, like the whole world was made of rainbows and butterflies. You felt something release deep inside you, like a kink in your neck had finally relaxed, and the relief was all-consuming.

"I love you too," you say, tears brimming in your eyes again, this time from the pure unadulterated joy you were feeling. Mingi's lips were back on yours, his kiss firm and possessive, slow and deliberate. It took your breath away, the way he was holding you close to him so tightly, the way his mouth roamed over yours like he owned you. You could feel his hips pressing into yours, his obviously hard length putting pressure on your core, and it added to the feeling of possession, like his was the only cock meant for you.

"I want you to be mine," he murmurs, pulling away momentarily to climb on top of you, his lips crashing down on your neck in mere moments. You sigh at the feeling, a quiet moan coming from deep within you.

"I am," you whisper, your hot breath fanning past his ear and making him shiver. His hand comes down to push down his boxers, pulling his cock free desperately, rubbing the tip along your slit and circling your clit gently, loving the breathy noises coming from your lips.

"You're so wet, god, you're always so fucking wet for me," he groans in your ear, making your whole body jitter with pleasure. This time it feels so different, like you're truly about to make love, even if it's in your own freaky way. Sex could never be just sweet and calm between you, you knew that. And you liked that, cause sweet wasn't exactly what you needed when it came to sexual pleasure. The things he whispered in your ear always had you coming so fast, and it had never been like that with any previous partners. As he slowly rubbed himself against you, your clit electric with pleasure, the feeling enveloped you; you were made for each other, lock and key.

"Fuck, I love you," he moans as he enters you, his words fanning over your face, making your heart sing. "I love your pussy, god, it's so fucking perfect," he continues, the words spilling out of him in his exhausted and delirious state. You have nothing in you to respond; you never usually do when he's fucking you, because the way his huge cock stretches you open makes it impossible to think straight.

"No one's ever fucking you again, you're mine forever," he says, his thrusts picking up speed, his arms around you holding you tight. "No one else," he mutters, and you pull his face to yours to kiss him again, your tongues sloppily licking each other's faces as his movements become more erratic, the whole moment feeling alluringly primal. Already you're coming, from the way he's talking to you, your body shuddering in its fatigue and pleasure. "Fuck, baby, god you're so fucking perfect. I love when you come so fast like that," he groans into your ear, his breaths ragged.

"Mingi, mingi...." you whimper, coming down from your peak and already feeling like another is building. Your words barely come out, they're almost incoherent with how warbled they sound, but he can read everything about how you feel from the sounds.

"I know you love it, when I talk you through it," he says, one hand moving to your hip as he thrusts his hips even harder. "You love that I can tell when you're coming, when you're about to come. Fuck, your pussy is made for me baby, it's so fucking perfect. And you love taking it so hard, don't you?"

Another orgasm blooms in your core, your tight walls squeezing down on him again, your legs shaking as you grip onto him desperately. His pace is just perfect, despite how wild it is, and you feel the pleasure through your entire abdomen, intense warmth also emanating from your chest and making you feel entirely complete. Your eyes are completely closed as you take in the feeling, your head drifting farther and farther from the anxiety and anger of earlier and moving towards that palpable warmth. Soft moans leave your lips at every thrust, the sparkly pleasure growing each time, your body taking him in so easily.

"Fuck you're gonna make me come," he groans in your ear, and somehow again, even in your exhausted state, you feel yourself racing towards your own peak yet again. "God I love how you come so much," he whispers, your orgasm hitting you hard. The sounds you make are whiny, pathetic, and it makes his hold body lurch, his movements stuttering as he finally starts hitting his own climax. "No one's ever made you come like this, have they baby?" he says as he comes undone, your head shaking side to side as the last of the tears left in your eyes leak onto your cheeks. He kisses you deeply, as you feel him cum fill you up, your body racked with exhaustion, your energy completely spent. With heavy breaths he falls to the side of you, grabbing you to hold you tight once again, your own breaths uneven as you recover from everything that's just happened. The whole day washes over you; the morning, the way your head pounded and your neck ached when you woke, the way your stomach churned as you sat waiting for him backstage, the way you walked out of the hotel, your head spinning uncontrollably, and the way he came to you, saying everything you'd hoped he one day would. It was all too much to process, and you continued to shake in his arms as you tried to calm down, still feeling your heartbeat in your clit.

"Let me clean you up," he gently says, a hand running down your back in slow stokes.

"Okay," you whisper, your eyes still closed as he gets up, the bed sagging momentarily when he sits on the edge. Quickly he is back with a wet washcloth, his hands working deliberately to wipe down your core and thighs. Suddenly your eyes feel so heavy, your body turned to the side exactly how you always sleep, and then you're out. After cleaning himself up Mingi heads back to the bed, wrapping himself around you, your soft even breaths calming the part of his heart that still felt shattered at everything he found out today. Gently he pulls the covers over you both, his body wracked from the day and from his release, and soon his breaths are steady like yours, the two of you lulled to sleep in the perfect haze that your proximity always brings you.

It was all said in anger or in lust tonight, but you both know that things have changed between you, that the words said tonight were completely true regardless of the circumstances. Finally your feelings were out in the open, and finally you could move forward without any doubt. The gentle dawn of the morning brought both of you out of your deep slumber, the exhaustion hitting hard after the previous day's fight. But the parts of you that had been confused were settled now, and the relief that gave you won out in the competition for your attention. It was a brand new day, a good day with the man you loved by your side, and you couldn't be more excited for the rest of tour, and for whatever the future had in store.