#like I kept floating off more and more and then everything in my body paused like I hit a wall

[redhotarsenic]

.

[13a07s]

Ovulation Week

(Koshi Sugawara)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to SUKJA]

Requested by: Myself, duh

Word Count: 3,478

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

[Reader]'s being a horn-dog (sadly, no smut)

Hickeys

Mentions of Scratch Marks

Dry Humping/Sex

Sorry it took so long to get another story out. It's been hectic trying to balance work and moving :(

———————————————————————

My speaker leaks into Koshi's room when I open the bathroom door, painting his everything-in-its-place bedroom with a soft melody. Despite everything being kept perfect, my things are spread across the room. Textbooks and homework decorating his magazine-style perfectly made bed, my weekend bag hanging off his closet door, and my bookbag resting in the lounge chair in the corner.

     I slowly make my way over to Koshi's bed, tightening the towel hugging my body before I sit on the edge of it; a leg curled up under me as the other one dangles. My mind is preoccupied, putting my after-shower things on pause long enough to scroll through the school's homework app in search of Friday's lecture from my college algebra class.

     When I find the video, I boot it up making my teacher's monotone voice quickly replace the artist I was just listening to. My mind hangs onto every word of the lecture, dropping my phone to the bed before wandering off to coat my skin in lotion.

     I let my towel tumble to the ground, picking up the strawberry lotion Koshi keeps on his dresser for me to use. I hate the feeling of lotion on my hands, my skin instantly feeling like needles, but I like the smooth feeling it leaves everywhere else.

     I try focusing on my lecture, using it to ignore the feeling of lotion on my hands. I rub it into my skin as quickly as possible, rushing to coat my body in it and get it off my fingers. Once I'm done, I shake my hands around, rubbing them over my neck again to try and get the icky feeling off. When that doesn't work, I pick up my towel to rub the residue off; that does help.

     Slowly, I float over to the closet, tossing my body towel into Koshi's laundry basket before slowly shaking my hair out of the towel it's wrapped in; adding my second towel to the basket.

     My focus is back on my lecture, trying to visualize what the professor is saying. I was working on homework before my shower, trying to make a dent in it well Koshi was at volleyball practice.

     I always tease him about it, begging him to skip to spend more time with me, but I know he can't. A part of his scholarships is linked to the college's volleyball team so he has to go, hence why it's just teasing. I ended up getting frustrated with my math homework, so I decided to shower as a short break.

     I dig through my weekend bag, taking out my hairbrush before making my way back to the bed. I settle on the bedding again, crisscrossed on the mattress before I flip my phone the right way. My eyes stick to the screen, watching the different numbers shift and work their way through their equation.

     As I'm focused on the video lecture, I work my brush through my hair, carefully detangling it. My fingers work through my hair too, chasing after my hairbrush to help weave the knots out.

     The doorknob turning catches my attention, tugging my eyes away from my phone. "I don't know. Take out probably," Koshi's voice rings out, most likely answering his roommate.

     My boyfriend finishes opening his bedroom door, turning around to walk into the room. He freezes halfway through the frame, hand still clinging to the doorknob, eyes blown out as he stares at me, and mouth gapped open a bit.

     Small noises spill from Koshi, his cheeks quickly reddening. "I... um... Gorgeous, I..." He lets out a puff of air, eyes jumping around my body. His cheeks are as red as chili peppers at this point, almost painfully standing out against his pale skin.

     "I'm sorry," he finally pushes out, turning away from me. Koshi hurries back out of the room, slamming the door behind him, and making the whole doorframe shake. "Sorry, Gorgeous!" He yelps, the words a bit muffled.

     I stay still on the bed, slowly blinking at the wooden door as I finish brushing my hair. The sound of his roommate cackling snaps me out of the small trance I'm in, my head shaking at Koshi's behavior. I swear, that man acts like we didn't spend last night committing sins. "Koshi?" I call, rolling out of the bed.

     "Gorgeous?" He calls back, his voice a bit strained. "Are you... um..."

     This time I roll my eyes at the man, quickly making my way to his closet. I tug a shirt out of my bag, pulling on a set of underwear before I tug the cloth on over my head. As I'm situating my shirt, I make my way to the door. "Koshi," I repeat, opening the door enough for me to peer out.

     The man in question slowly turns around, his eyes instantly falling to my thighs where the hem of the shirt rests halfway down. "That's... uh... hi?"

     "Hello," I greet back, turning to walk away from the door. Koshi slips into the room, fully this time, before closing the door behind him. "You're such a weirdo," I tease, plopping back on his bed.

     "I'm not a weirdo. I just... panicked," he grumbles, buzzing around the room to put his shoes and bag in their places. "I didn't think you were going to be naked when I got home."

     "I didn't either," I giggle, flicking my eyes away from the lecture long enough to catch a glimpse of Koshi. "I thought you had practice until noon."

     "Coach let us out early," he shortly explains, a weary kiss being plopped to my head before he flutters away, flusteredness still lingering in his movements. "I'm going to go shower." I hum an acknowledgment toward him, pulling my textbook closer to me. "Can I borrow your phone or can you disconnect your phone from the speaker?" I hold my phone out toward him, too lazy to either one of his requests. "Thank you," Koshi mutters, taking my phone from me.

     Again, I hum, this one a 'you're welcome' instead of a simple acknowledgment. My lecture is cut off, replaced by whatever song he wants to listen to. Soon after, the sound of the shower running mixes with the soft music.

     I slowly melt off the bed, dragging my textbook with me until my knees meet his floor, the expensive book settling on the edge of the bed. I stay hunched over the mattress, eyes carelessly scanning the algebra I don't have a desire to understand. I bet I could talk Koshi into doing my math for me if I offered to do his history assignment.

My head lulls to the side, resting against the heavy knowledgeable but confusing writing, my mind repeatedly reading the same paragraph. "It would be easier to read if your head wasn't lying on the text," Koshi lectures, startling me a bit. I didn't notice his shower ending, or him leaving the bathroom.

Slowly I pick my head off the book, tilting it backward to look at my boyfriend. "It would be easier if you just did it for me," I murmur, most of my mind and my eyes preoccupied. Koshi is standing right behind me, a towel loose and low on his hips. My eyes eagerly follow the water droplets dripping from the ends of his hair, landing on his shoulders, sliding down to his chest and quickly trailing his torso before disappearing under his towel.

"You won't learn anything if I keep doing it for you," his lecture continues both hands on his hips, one focused on keeping his towel in place. How disappointing; an accidental towel drop would be enjoyable.

"Are you going to give yourself the same lecture next time you ask me to do your history assignment?" I ask, eyes jumping to find another droplet to tail.

"Touché," Koshi mutters, a lopsided smile on his face. "Still, math it's important."

"So is history."

     "You got me there," he softly chuckles, turning to walk away from me. First no towel drop and now no eye fucking either. How boring. "You can admire me after your homework is done," Koshi calls over his shoulder as if he can read my mind.

"Or I can admire you while I do my homework," I try to counter, turning so my eyes can roll across his back. Koshi's back is still littered with proof of last night; four beautiful scratch marks smoothly running across the dips and hills of his shoulder blades and a few hickeys littered here and there across his shoulders.

"We tried that last night and well... we both still have a mountain of homework to do," he mutters, checking himself over in the body mirror hanging on his wall before finally letting his towel drop.

My eyes quickly fall, admiring the hard work of receives and the standard volleyball stance. They sure have done wonders for my boyfriend's ass. I'm up on my feet within seconds, strolling my way over to the beautifully slim setter. "So?" I murmur, wrapping my arms lower than needed on his torso.

"So," Koshi teases, a wider smile on his face as he stares at me in the mirror. "We have homework to do."

"I want to do you," I tell him, suctioning my mouth to a lower section of his shoulder.

"Can do."

"Yes," I softly cheer, the word dragged out as I celebrate.

"After all our homework is done."

"No," I whine, stringing the word out in a similar fashion.

     "Well one of us has to be responsible and it's not you, Gorgeous," Koshi teases, a hand settling on top of where my wrists cross over his stomach. He softly squeezes my wrists, tipping his head to gently knock it against mine.

"You don't always have to be responsible," I murmur, letting my fingertips toy with the v-lined muscles that stretch down his stomach and aim toward his dick.

A shiver rattles through Koshi, his hand tightening around my wrist from the soft touches. "Gorgeous," he mutters, cheeks red again, paired with a weary smile as he looks at me through the mirror. "We have homework to do."

"And I have you to do," I tease, latching my mouth to his shoulder again. "You're so tense from practice. Let me help you relax a bit before we work on homework," I add, letting my fingers trail the outline of his abdomen again.

Koshi shivers again, his eyes fluttering closed as he enjoys the soft touches of my fingertips and the gentle sucking of my lips. Hissy breaths spill from him, chest pumping a bit quicker. "Kosh," I purr, sliding my tongue over one of the bruises I placed on him last night. The bruise isn't left alone for long, my mouth instantly replacing my tongue to deepen the coloring.

"Gorgeous?" He calls back, my pet name coming out staggered from Koshi's attempt to hide his noises. "We... we have... homework. Homework," he mutters, tugging my hands off himself.

I pout, but detach myself from his shoulder and let him tug my touch away from his stomach. "I don't want to do my homework."

"You have to, Gorgeous. How else am I supposed to have a high-positioned sexy sugar mama to take of me?" Koshi teases, raising my hands so he can press a few kisses across them.

"You could pick a different field to go into," I joke back, a soft sigh leaving my body because of the gentle loving he's always quick to offer. Koshi's wanting to be a teacher is part of why I love him. It's always so cute seeing him so excited about becoming a teacher. So, as long as he enjoys being a teacher, I don't mind being the future breadwinner of our home.

"Never," he mutters, pecking my knuckles once more before dropping his hold on my hands. "Go start your homework while I get dressed."

I whine as I slouch back over to the bed. I don't want to do my homework, I don't want to be responsible. I want Koshi buried between my thighs; his head or his dick, I'd be happy with either. I flop on the bed, careful to avoid all my stuff littered on the covers.

My eyes are back to trailing over my boyfriend, not hiding my thoughts or the fact I'm sure I'm looking at him like a slab of meat. I wonder if I'm ovulating. Maybe that's why I'm so wrapped up with Koshi.

My sights trail his every movement, watching as he tugs on a pair of boxers, hiding his delicious v-line and his dick I feel like I'm melting over. I'm definitely ovulating. A disappointing sigh spills from me when a shirt is pulled over Koshi's head, hiding my hard work from the night before. "We should have sex."

His cheeks flesh for a second, another shaky smile on his face. "Gorgeous, I enjoy having you in that sort of way, all the time. I'd even enjoy it now, but we should get our homework done."

I groan, letting myself slide off the bed again. My head lulls to the side, watching my boyfriend make his way to me, to his bed. "It's only Saturday. We could do it tomorrow."

"We said that last night but guess what? We spent the whole night pleasing your hormones," he softly chuckles, crouching down to be closer to my height. "You're a needy thing during your ovulation."

That makes my face heat up. I've been with Koshi long enough that I shouldn't be embarrassed about my cycle but I still am; some parts of it more than others, of course. "You don't know that's what's going on for sure," I mutter, snapping my head away from him.

"Of course I do," he murmurs back, toying with the ends of my hair, a cocky smile on his face. "Do you honestly think I didn't check your cycle app after you tried to fuck me in the parking lot last night?"

My cheeks heat up more at Koshi's soft teasing; partly because I'm embarrassed and partly because it's true. I was ready to fuck him in the back seat of my car if he would have let me. "Stop being so hot and maybe it won't be such a problem."

He leans down, shoving his nose into my neck to hide his heated cheeks. "Come on, let's do our homework," Koshi mutters, his arms wrapping around me to help pull me to my feet. I continue to groan, letting him tug the both of us upright. "Homework, Gorgeous, then I'll do whatever you want."

"Whatever I want?" I ask, cheering up at the offer, a million different ideas already flickering through my mind.

"Within reason," he backtracks, a soft pink dusting his cheeks once again. Koshi continues tugging on me, placing me back on the bed. As soon as my back hits the mattress, I wrap my legs around his waist, keeping them tight over his hips. His cheeks grow darker and his breath a bit huffy as I pull him against me. "Gorgeous, this isn't homework," he mutters, hands gripping my thighs as he looks down at me.

"Sure it is. It's an anatomy lesson," I tease, arching my hips up to press against his slowly growing hard-on.

A soft noise bubbles from the boy between my legs, the sound coming out muffled from him trying to shove it back down his throat. "Neither of us are taking an anatomy class this semester," he babbles, eyes closed tightly, and hands tight on my flesh.

"So?" I ask, tightening my legs again, keeping Koshi pressed against me.

A muffled whine falls from him, his fingernails digging into my thighs. "Just... a few assignments, Gorgeous. You only have like... four or five, right? It won't take that long. I'll even do your math homework for you."

"What a sweet boy I have," I coo, jerking my hips upward once more before dropping my legs off of him.

Koshi doesn't move away from me though, in fact, he pulls me closer, the imprint in his boxers rubbing against my panties. He's softly panting, working his hips against mine as his eyes bounce around the textbooks spilled out on his bed. "You'll... you'll do my history for me... right? Since I'm doing your math homework?"

"Of course, baby," I mutter, my hands shooting forward to cling to the hem of his shirt. My back arches a bit, helping Kosh rub against the right spot. My perfectly kept, strait-laced boyfriend is as much a sex fiend as I am, he just hides it better than me.

His movements stall every few thrusts, freezing for a moment as he whines before he picks them up again. "Temptress," Koshi whimpers, pressing his hips against me once more before jerking away from me.

He rolls over, lying on the bed next to me as he tries to calm himself down. Koshi's eyes are closed, his panting slowing down as he unwinds the workup he caused himself. Well, I might have had a hand in it too. "Gorgeous temptress," he teases again, opening his eyes and turning his head toward me.

"You love it," I poke back, rolling on top of him, my knees on either side of his body as I settle myself pressed against him. Instantly, Koshi's hands jump up, clinging to my hips.

"Temptress, temptress, temptress," he babbles, helping me to rub myself against him. My eyes tumble over Koshi, watching the slow build-up of his needs again as I fake-ride him.

"Homework," he suddenly yelps, flipping us over. He's quickly parted from me, cheeks bright and movements flustered as he works his distance from me. I can't help the soft giggles from spilling over, my flustered Koshi fixing his penis in his boxers as he mutters to himself about me being a 'temptress' and a 'distraction'.

"You loved every second of that and you know it," I tease, sitting upright, my knees situated under myself as I watch him walk circles in his room. "It wouldn't hurt to just slide yourself in."

"Stop that," he yelps, shooting me a stern look. "Stop trying to distract me. We're doing our homework. No sex until our homework is done, am I understood?"

"Yes, Sugawara-Sensei," I continue to tease, faking a nervous twirling of the hem of my shirt. "I won't let it happen again, Sensei. I hope my misbehavior doesn't get me detention. I would just hate two hours alone in a room with you. Absolutely hate being bent over your desk while you spank my ass with a ruler - "

     "Homework!" Koshi yelps, cutting off my teasing role-play. Maybe that's why I'm so delighted that my boyfriend wants to be a teacher; it'll make for a fun reoccurring role-play. His cheeks are on fire, the reddest they've been all day as he stumbles around the room, reaching for my math textbook so he can do my homework for me.

     I can't help the smug grin on my face or the chuckles that spill from his reaction. Who says we have to wait for Koshi to get his degree before he's a teacher? He can teach me. "Alright," I pretend to give in, mischief already being plotted.

     He settles on the bed, propped up against the headboard as he glances through the chapter. I go into action, handing him my notebook with the pencil through the spine and the neglected calculator so he doesn't have to move from his spot. Koshi is quickly sliding into productive mode, mumbling to himself as he looks over the homework assignment doodled on the top of the page. Thirty questions from the last page of the chapter; not a lot quantity-wise but a lot time-wise.

     My eyes stay stuck on him, waiting for him to start working through the first question. When the pencil hits the paper, I start inching forward, slowly making my way under his arm and into his lap. "Koshi?"

     "Gorgeous?" He mutters, eyes flicking back and forth from my textbook to my notebook. I jerk my hips, Koshi's hand shooting down to grip my hips as he stifles a whine. "My darling gorgeous woman, I'm doing your homework for you so you don't have to."

     "I know you are," I hum, setting a slow pace to my hips. "But you said I 'won't learn anything if you keep doing it for me' so, teach me, Sugawara-Sensei," I start up my flirting again, pushing my hips down harder to add more pressure to his still-hard dick.

     "I swear, your ovulation week is going to be the death of me," he breathes out, breath shaky and strained as he shoves my hips into a faster pace.

     "You enjoy my ovulation week."

     "Ya, ya, I do."

[lalalunel]

Pathetic Leon pt. 6

Leon was vaguely aware of how thin his walls were. He found out the hard way when he first moved in and he happened to live next to a younger couple. He had a lot of sleepless nights when they decided they wanted to do it till the sun came up. He kept it in mind, but didn’t think much else about it. Particularly, he didn’t think to mention it to you when you were staying over. 

Leon was blissfully laying back in bed Thursday night, a half empty bottle of whiskey on his night stand and a glass in his hand as some random mystery show played on TV. For once, you didn’t plague his thoughts, the state of his mind matched the emptiness of the bottle. That of course didn’t last long. He really could never catch a break, could he?

He thought he was hearing things at first or that the show he was watching was making the noise, but his eyebrows furrowed when he turned down the volume and the noise he was hearing became clearer. A very distinct giggle poured through from the wall, the one that connected your room to his. His eyes lost focus on the TV as he strained his ears to hear whatever was going on with you. A little creepy, maybe, but tipsy Leon was a curious Leon. 

“No yeah, i’m not at my place… my dad said something about wanting to renovate, I wholeheartedly think he was just lying to get me out of the house so he and my mom can get it on…” The sentence was followed by a series of giggles and incoherent words, another voice floating through faintly with yours. He assumed whoever you were talking to was on speaker. “I’m staying with my dad’s friend. The one I told you about, Leon,” You mention and Leon perks up slightly. You talk about him? He was so definitely kicking his feet and blushing at that. Metaphorically, of course..

He was sipping on his whiskey a little too smugly when he paused at what you said next. “Hear me out okay?… if he had kids he would be considered a DILF, right?” The question made him sputter, choking on the bitter amber liquid that he had just taken a mouthful of. He sat up, trying to contain his coughing so you didn’t catch on that he was listening. You were silent for a moment and he was scared you realized he was listening until he heard you snickering. “No c’mon! You saw the pictures! He’s hot right?... Okay, you can’t make me feel weird about this, you used to like your babysitter. If anyone’s a freak here it's you.” Leon sort of began to tune everything out after that, staring off into space as his mind tried to catch up with the information he just received. 

You thought he was hot, DILF level hot actually. You sent pictures of him to your friend to talk about how hot you thought he was. You said something about kids.. One thought came to mind--many thoughts, actually, it's just that a lot of them had to do with him making kids with you and he had to shove them to the back of his mind to focus on what was actually important--he had to wonder, did you ask to stay with him on purpose? Did sweet little you have an ulterior motive behind wanting to stay with your dad’s friend? 

He laid there questioning that for the rest of the night, not getting the hours of sleep that his body begged him for because a few more glasses in and those pesky thoughts about kids with you started to resurface. For the second night in a row, he found himself with his mind in the gutter and his cock in his fist. 

~~~

One day I'll take the time to make this all pretty and tag it nice, for now I'm just writing about honry Leon and trying to go shower fr

[bridgyrose]

Nuts and Dolts Week: Day 7

Ruby clutched the piece of Floating Array she had kept from the fall of Beacon, the sword still felt foreign in her hands. She had spent weeks practicing with it as another option for close combat since she still wasnt all that great unarmed. But at least using the sword was going to be another option. 

“Are you ready?” Jaune asked as he held his sword and shield up. “You know I’m not going to go easy on you.” 

“I am,” Ruby said as her fingers trembled. “I have to be.” 

“Then your training starts now!” 

Ruby stepped back as she blocked Jaune’s strike, not expecting the power that came from it. Her arms trembled as she made her own strike against him, hitting his shield as he blocked. The sword vibrated in her grip as she took a few more steps back. It was still different from fighting with her scythe, Floating Array vibrated differently, built to be used remotely and not by hand. Still, she looked over Jaune and rushed behind him with her semblance to strike his back. 

Her blade was once again met with Jaune’s shield, and then a strike from his blade against her. She struck back over and over only to feel Jaune’s shield against her blade and then a strike of his own hitting her over and over again until her aura broke. Her legs finally gave out as she dropped to the ground panting. She looked up at him as he held a hand out to her. 

“Are you sure you’re still okay?” Jaune asked. “You still seemed distracted.” 

“I’m fine,” Ruby said as she took his hand. “I just need to practice.” 

Jaune shook his head. “I’ve seen when you’re fine. This… this isnt fine.” 

Ruby sighed and looked at the blade of Floating Array, swearing she saw Penny’s face in her reflection. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she gripped the hilt again, voice cracking as she spoke. “I… I have… I have to be ready to get my answers. I need to know why our friends had to die, why Penny had to be killed like that.” 

“And you’ll get those answers when we head off. You’re still recovering, Yang still needs you-” 

“What about what I need?” Ruby half yelled at him. She took a breath and wiped away her tears as she held Floating Array up. “I’m ready again.” 

“Your aura-” 

“I’ll be fine. Please, I need to be ready. This is all I have left of Penny and I need to make sure I can use it when I can’t use my scythe.” 

Jaune sighed and raised his own sword and shield. “Alright, but if I draw blood, we’re done.” 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ruby stared at the melted blade in her hands, her breathing starting to feel panicked. Everything on the bridge had gone wrong, Cinder had melted the only piece of Floating Array she had been allowed to keep as a wish from Penny, as an offering of her love. And now, it was damaged beyond repair and she still wasnt sure if Penny had survived.

“Ruby!” Weiss called out. “There you are!” 

Ruby quickly sheathed her melted blade and looked over at Weiss, surprised to see her. “Weiss. What are you doing here?” 

“I fell too. Just like you did.” 

“And… and Penny?” 

Weiss looked away. “Let's find Yang and Blake first.” 

Ruby felt her heart stop when she saw the look Weiss tried to hide, the sorrow in her eyes and the crack in her voice as she spoke. It was the silent answer that gave her enough of an answer about Penny’s fate, once again losing the woman she tried to save, the woman that she vowed to keep alive no matter what. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the last reminder she had, wrapping them around the hilt. “She… she died, didnt she?” 

Weiss stopped in her tracks, pausing before she spoke. “I-I’m sorry Ruby. Jaune tried to save her, but Cinder… we really should find Yang and Blake first. I dont want to explain this more than once.” 

“We did everything right,” Ruby said through a few tears. “We used the scepter to save her, gave her soul a new body, made sure she would live… and I still couldnt save her!” 

“And it wasnt enough this time-” 

“She has to be alive! She has to be here!” 

“Wait Ruby-” Ruby rushed off deeper into the forest of the Ever After, her semblance carrying her as far as she could go. The scars on her arms burned as she pushed herself to use every last drop of aura she had, finally dropping out of her semblance and crashing on the ground. Her eyes widened as she watched what remained of Floating Array drop into the water in front of her, sinking until it was out of sight. Her body went limp as she lost the strength to keep going. Beyond her memory, Penny was gone. Forever. 

[asirensrage]

East of the Sun, West of the Moon

Title: East of the Sun, West of the Moon Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Rating: Uhh...Teen? Pairing: Kokonoi Hajime x Inui Seishu, mentioned!Koko x Akane Word count: 1629 Warnings: Merpeople? Off-screen canon character death. Dubious Consent for a kiss? Non-human/Human relationship. Implied forced magic/species change? unbeta'd Summary: He had paid the price for the magic he desired. Coming to the surface to meet his prize does not go as expected.

Notes: This is my first thing done for Mermay! I wrote it all this morning after a friend of mine suggested this couple. This is my first time writing for them (and technically my first m/m oneshot lol). I hope you enjoy it.

It’s been too long since he’s had a chance to come back to the surface. He’s been busy, working to find the right witch with the right magic for his desires. There is a cost for everything and he had paid heavily, more with parts of his soul than his body. He was shrewd enough to keep the damage to others, not himself. Finally though, he had what he wanted. He was ready to make his courtship fully known and offer something intangible. A freedom from the life that bound her only to the surface. 

He hears the click of those shoes she wears on the wood, vibrating into the dark water and signalling him in the night. A siren’s call already and she’s still wearing legs.

Her hair glows in the moonlight when he finally breaks the surface with barely a ripple. He can’t resist playing, sneaking up on her as he flicks his tail and moves closer. Her silhouette is…different. Is she smaller? Can humans shrink? He didn’t think so but Merfolk can change at will so why can’t humans do the same in some way? They change as they age, he remembers, and he tries to think of how long he’s been gone in human years. The time is strange. 

He floats a little closer, just enough that he can almost make out the different hairstyle that accompanies the shift in her, and he calls out in the grating human speech. “Miss me?” 

She turns quickly, eyes skimming the horizon behind before finally looking down for the voice. He reels back, tail flicking in agitation and fear that he tries to hide. “You’re not Akane.” 

They look like her, similar in features but sharper. Less happy. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like this male version of her. Akane the human was bright like the sun or the coral in the reef that the fish liked to hide in. This person felt more like the moon. A pale reflection of the warmth he sought. 

“So you’re the reason she kept coming here,” they say. Their voice is lower than hers, smoother. “I knew she had a secret but I didn’t think… you’re not human, are you?”

He sneers at the stranger, sharp teeth displayed in warning. “Where is she?”

“Dead.”

He sinks for a moment in shock. Dead? She can’t be dead. He has his magic. He was going to bring her with him finally. She can’t- “Lies!” he hisses. 

They sit down on the wooden platform, heels removed and tucked into the side as they dip their feet into his water. He moves to see them clearer and one side of their face glistenes with the fresh skin of a scar. “There was a fire. She didn’t…” they cut themselves off. “She wanted to bring me here before and I always said no. I…I should have-”

“Fire?” The concept is strange to him. There is no such thing in the water, not outside of the volcanoes and eruptions that sometimes quake under, sprouting heat and pain if one gets too close. 

“Yeah,” the familiar stranger nods. He does not elaborate.

“How do I know it’s not a trick? I will pay for her return.” Humans like gold and shiny things, don’t they? Kokonoi can travel and dig up a treasure for her. 

“I would pay anything for her return,” the stranger says looking towards the moon. Kokonoi pauses. They are pretty, like Akane but different. As the moon is different from the sun. He decides he likes the sharpness of their jaw and the apathy in their eyes. He is stunned by the desire to see if he feels as soft as he looks or if Kokonoi will cut himself on the jagged edges he sees. Akane was bright and soft and kind. Kokonoi was prepared to fight for her in the deep, to keep her safe. He senses that this one would fight himself.

“Who are you?” he finally asks, pushing himself up to rest his arms on the dock and staring at him. He reaches out a long finger, careful with his claw as he touches the leg in the water. 

“Seishu.” The name is as familiar as an old current. “I’m her brother.” 

Brother. Another name for a hatchling. He remembers she said she had one in an old conversation when they first met. He had been intrigued by the figure sitting on the dock, much like Seishu sits tonight. “Koko,” he offers, pointing to himself. It’s the easier version of a name a human can pronounce. One Akane gifted him. 

“Koko…” 

The way he says his name makes him shiver, his spines flickering out. He reaches, trailing his claw over their skin. He’s tempted to make him bleed but Koko does not want competition in this moment, no matter how much he wants to taste. He drags his claw under Seishu’s foot, eyes flashing with pleasure at the way they flinch. 

“What are you?” Koko asks, looking up at her brother. “Akane said she was female. Are you?”

“What? No. I’m her brother. That means I’m male.”

He thinks about it and shrugs. Gender has no meaning, not really, not to a Mer who can change theirs on a whim. If he needs, he can adjust to suit them and the future he’s suddenly thinking of. He grieves for Akane, for his sun, but the moon controls the tides and Kokonoi is finding himself swept up in the current that Seishu pulls him to. 

Kokonoi hums softly, letting the sound verberate through the air. He could drag him down easily, but Kokonoi likes to take his time. He wants Seishu’s curiosity. He wants to be desired back. He is not lacking in courtships but there have been none that caught his interest until Akane. Until Seishu. “I’ll return. You wait.”

“You want me to wait for you?” 

Kokonoi nods. “I won’t be long this time. Next night.” 

Seishu looks at him before he nods. “Okay, I’ll come back. For Akane.”

“For you,” Kokonoi demands. 

He looks out at the horizon, at the moon that shines and is reflected by the water. “Akane loved coming here, thought is was an escape. Used to joke about not coming back.”

A promise Kokonoi made to her that she left unfulfilled. Promises were binding to beings like the Mer and the witches in the deep. He gives into the urge and licks the skin of the leg in the water. It makes Seishu yelp which causes Kokonoi to laugh. 

“You’re not going to eat me, are you?” he asks, leaning away now carefully. He looks ready to run. 

Koko shoves himself up higher, using his tail and his arms to heave himself for moment onto the wooden platform he sits on. It isn’t easy, but he’s strong. Seishu stares in awe at the dark colours of his tail and the white spines on his fins. Kokonoi flicks it, splashing him. 

The brother glares at him before flicking the water back. He grins at it, and the way Seishu’s eyes take in the differences between them. His gaze continues to linger on his tail and his hair and Kokonoi wants to preen in response.  

Koko leans closer. He needs to go back into the water but he wants to taste more. He wonders if Seishu will let him. He lets out a series of clicks, trilling slightly to lure him closer. It works because the human moves in without thinking and Koko is granted the chance to press his lips against his and nip, tasting blood. It’s sweet, but he thinks he prefers the taste of the man himself when he manages to lick inside his mouth. It stuns Seishu enough that Kokonoi can taste a little more, tongue moving against his gently, before he’s forced to jump into the water to breathe.

Seishu is in shock, staring down at the Mer who lowers himself further into the water. He can’t resist grinning at the moon above him, waiting for the response.

“You…kissed me.”

Kokonoi nods. “A human thing but enjoyable. You’re fragile though. Don’t want to break you.” There’s no revulsion that he can see in the human’s expression and it confirms his desire. It’s not only him. Not completely. 

Seishu touches his own mouth. “Are you allowed to do that?”

Kokonoi shrugs. “Why not?” he sticks out his tongue at the human and watches with pleasure as the human looks at it. “Do you have a clutch waiting for you? Your home?” he elaborates when he sees the confusion on his face.

“What? Oh…no. My parents died with Akane. It’s just me now.”

He grins, teeth flashing in the light. “The next night,” Kokonoi says. “Meet here. I had something for Akane but you…you will take it.”     

“I will?”

“Yes. Then her promise will be held.” 

“She made you a promise?” 

Kokonoi grins. “One made in blood. It will be worth the wait,” he says, more to himself than Seishu. “It’s a…gift,” he says, thinking of the closest proper human word. 

“Okay,” he nods. “Tomorrow night. Not like I have anything else waiting for me.” 

Kokonoi is not supposed to hear the last part but he does. “Next night, my moon.” He leaves before Seishu can question the term, swimming into the deep water. He has adjustments to make. Seishu’s taste is etched into his memory and he needs to add it to the magic that he’s paid for. He needs to adjust the home he’s created for a larger Mer than planned and more fortifications. Seishu, he knows, is going to be beautiful in the water. The moon belongs to the ocean and this one belongs to Kokonoi. He’ll make sure of it. 

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[sidhewrites]

24! Here we go! Don't talk to me about pacing it's fine everything's fine

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Terror and confusion erase all other thoughts as my muscles work my limbs into order. I feel my body sit upright, my joints popping strangely. And in my head, something cold and oily seeps in, filling up the gaps in my consciousness and settling in like a new roommate.

Hello, it seems to say. I could get used to this.

Nausea crawled up my throat, and I heaved again, more bile dribbling down my chin. Again, my mouth moved on its own, someone else using my voice for their words. "Sorry, my dear," they said. "This has been nice, but I've got something to do." I feel my muscles extend and contract, pushing my body up from the bench. It's uncoordinated and awkward. My knees still hurt from my gardening two days ago, but my joints feel cold now. My bones are wrong. I don't know how to describe it. I've suddenly been pushed into the passenger seat of my own body, my mind occupying a space in my head that I'm not used to, watching someone else take control and learn the controls.

Lucy follows me as I go, brows furrowed. "Kaz? Is something wrong?" 

I don't miss that hint of hurt in her voice, and I try to open my mouth and tell her that something's wrong, but it doesn't work. My head swivels towards her, but my smile comes out all wrong. It doesn't meet my eyes. It's unkind. "It's been lovely. But I best be going."

She stops for a moment, watching me go. I think -- I hope she realizes what's going on. I don't know what's happening, but it isn't me. Those words aren't mine.

"Kaz...?"

[Somehow magnus tells lucy the plan. I'm going to the mine. I deserve some quiet after all this. Thank goodness kaz so kindly gave me a direct path to her soul.]

She reaches out, grabs my arm. For a moment, her hand is solid, holding on to me, stopping my body in its tracks. But whatever tether is keeping her in this world fades, and her hand slips right through me, sending a bolt of dread shooting down my spine.

It's enough to shake Magnus's control on my body. I stumble, hands waving, and I let out a curse all my own. "Shit Christ." I hiss, landing hard on the ground and no doubt skinning my knee under my pants all over again. But I have to act fast -- I need to do -- something.

"Get Josie," I choke out, before Magnus wraps himself around my consciousness once more. Lucy watches me for a moment, wringing her hands, before Magnus turns my head away from the light and towards the darkest parts of the graveyard.

I can do nothing but watch as he carries me out to the historical quarter, pausing a moment to look at his grave. "It's a lovely job you did, dear Kaz," he says with a satisfied grin. "The roses are so well-kept now, aren't they? A shame you won't be able to tend to them again." He shrugs, and turns towards the mine

I want to beg him to stop, but I can't work my jaw, and my thoughts are jumbled in fear. He seems to get the idea, however, and lets out a low chuckle that rumbles in my chest. His next words come to me as his own thoughts, leaking through from his mind into mine, and I understand what he wants to do.

There's no escaping the noise of a modern world. The lights, the people -- they're ever present, and they'll only get worse. But he knows where he can go to avoid it all. Abandoned, silent, quiet.

I feel his satisfaction, an oily smugness floating around in my head. I feel him planning in there, plotting out the fastest route to the mine's entry. Through a hole in the fence, down a walking trail in the woods, to the first of many mine entrances blocked off by heavy gates. I've never thought to wrench one open, but the iron is decades old and poorly maintained. Rust has eaten away at the bars, leaving it a sharp, tetanus-filled portal into darkness.

Stop, I want to scream, but he doesn't. He puts my hands on the bars, slicing the skin open, and begins to pull. My muscles burn with the effort, and he laughs.

"It's been a while since I've felt the strain of physical effort," he says. "It feels good." When my grip slips, a piece of iron slices my hand open, and he laughs, thrilled at the novelty of pain. "Look at that," he says, admiring the rust and blood staining my hand red. "I'm bleeding again. I didn't realize how much I missed this." Magnus lets out one more laugh, and sets at the bars again.

It takes time. I hear footsteps in the distance, leaves crunching underfoot. In a panic, he shoves himself at the bars, trying to press my body in the space between them, but it does nothing but shake rust off the metal and into my lungs. No matter how much control Magnus has over my body, he can't stop me from bending over double and coughing, red-tinged spit now dripping from my mouth.

I feel his frustration growing like a flame in the middle of my forehead.

The metal screams into the night as he manages to bend it back, pulling the bar away just enough to worm his way inside. The dim light barely makes it ten feet past the gate. Magnus stumbles over the first uneven crack in the stone ground, just as Lucy winds up in front of the gate, peering in. She reaches out, maybe thinking to phase right through the iron, but her hand stops the second it reaches a bar.

"This is...new," she says, frowning. But even if she's become corporeal in the past few hours, she has barely any strength beside it. Her hand slips right through the metal with the slightest bit of pressure as Josie steps in beside her, sizing up the damage I had already done.

"Hold on, Kaz. We're coming."

"Don't bother," Magnus hisses, and moves further into the shadows, nearly tripping over another unseen rock. "Damnation. I need something to see."

My mind goes unbidden to the phone in my pocket, and Magnus latches onto the thought before I can suppress it. He may not fully understand what the device is, but he's smart enough to pull it out and feel for the buttons.

With a single click, the screen lights up -- informing us that it's 12:53 in the morning, and that I have three notifications waiting to be read. Magnus spares a single, "Fascinating," before flipping the phone around and using the screen's meager light to show us what's up ahead. A long stone corridor stretches out into the blackness, lichen and moss growing on the walls. Rotting wooden support beams break up the monotonous stone walls, but I don't trust their structural integrity.

Magus doesn't seem to care. When my phone times out and the screen goes dark, he clicks the button again, and starts to run, leaving Lucy and Josie far behind.

I hear their voices echoing along the stone, getting smaller. "We're coming!" they promise. I try my best to believe.

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[forrestfanfics]

So This is Love || Age of Ultron 12: “Neoma's Debut ”

“So This is Love” Masterlist

Previous Chapter  ||   Next Chapter (Civil War)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The sight of the Helicarrier made me forget about my numbing body. A glimmer of hope arose within me, and I forgot about their previous plan to blow themselves up. 

All that mattered now was getting these civilians to safety. 

"This way! Careful!"

Family after family ran past me as my eyes frantically scanned the area. But the panic in me kept me from tracking how many people I'd let in.

We couldn't leave anyone behind.

Not one.

When a lifeboat was filled, we guide them to the next and so on.

"Neoma, status update."

I tapped my visor. "So far, we're in the clear," I responded to my dad.

"Roger-... Crap."

Comms went static.

"Stark senior?" I paused.

"Dad?"

Nothing.

Then suddenly, a loud explosion sounded off and everyone around me started panicking.

The town square quickly turned into pandemonium.

I turned to the source of the blast and spotted my dad zooming into the sky towards a falling lifeboat.

One of its thrusters had been taken out by a mini Ultron.

Iron Man closed in on the boat, ready to catch it, when an Ultron bot cut him off, tackling him away.

"Fuck!"

On instinct, I ran for the edge of the floating island and threw my arms back, launching myself up into the air and to the boat.

The wind roaring in my ears couldn't drown out the screams of the passengers.

When I got close enough, I put my arms out to my sides and pushed, forming the same bubble I always had. Letting out a whine, I tried to push further, managing to catch half the boat with the other half still dangling out.

It was starting to hurt. My arms were shaking as I forced myself to keep going, keeping the bubble as stable as I possibly could.

The frazzled screams of the passengers were the only thing keeping me from dropping the boat.

I felt like I was choking on air.

But, I wasn't done yet. Half the ship was still weighing me down, and I had to keep going, keep pushing.

I let out a strained yell, pushing the bubble to grow bigger and bigger until it enclosed the entire boat, keeping it completely stable while I waited for my dad to get back up on his feet.

It was pure torture. My brain was growing fuzzy, and I could taste the blood dripping from my nose and onto my tongue.

I might as well have been shot in the spine at this point.

I wanted to let go.

I wanted to give up and end my suffering.

This pain... It made me want to die.

"Jesus Christ!"

I was too far gone to focus on the voices coming from comms. All I could hear was my own heavy breathing and the sudden silence from the boat I had within my bubble.

"Hang on just a little longer, Peanut!"

I cried out in pure agony as my body started to burn up.

"Let go, Neoma!"

Without any hesitation, I dropped my arms and allowed myself to fall.

In the corner of my eye —and through small gaps in my hair—, my dad had caught the boat right as the bubble dispersed.

My vision darkened while I continued to fall.

●    ◉    ◎    ◈    ◎    ◉    ●

"Come on, kid, wake up. Dammit!"

My ears twitched as the echoey sound of Steve's voice stirred me awake.

I rapidly blinked my eyes open, only to squeeze them shut at the bright beam of sunlight.

Someone took my visor off.

My whole suit had been retracted into the silver slip around my neck.

I couldn't feel my arms and legs, and the metallic taste of blood was still present on my tongue.

"Hey. There you are," Steve put a hand on my cheek soothingly. "It's okay, kid. Relax."

"Everything hurts," I managed to murmur under my breath.

"I know, I know."

"Am I... dead?" I felt like the more I spoke, the quieter my voice got.

"We're on a lifeboat, Y/N. Everyone got off safely. Most of them because of you. You're a lifesaver, kid."

I get that he was trying to make me feel better, but I wasn't absorbing his words in that state. I couldn't even open my eyes properly. I don't think I could even breathe.

"Where's... Dad?" I asked.

"He's... Well-"

A huge blast shook the boat for a moment as if on cue.

My eyes snapped open, and I started breathing heavily, hyperventilating from exhaustion and panic as I tried to sit up in vain.

"Hey, hey, hey! Stay down! Your vitals are beyond abnormal!"

His words were white noise to me as I continued to panic, trying to push myself up off the floor.

From the corner of my eye, I could see the edge of the boat where smoke and the debris of the demolished island came raining down. Into the ocean below us most likely.

I panted and finally got myself up, stumbling and losing balance as my knees shook and trembled. I frantically searched the skies for any sign of my father or Thor flying around.

With shaky hands, I quickly reached into my pocket and found my visor, putting it on and scanning the area.

I tried comms, but I couldn't hear anyone.

I tried to move closer to the edge to jump off, but Steve's hand got hold of my arms, effortlessly picking me up and moving us away from the edge. "You push yourself any further, you're down."

He totally meant death...

I was completely useless at this point.

I was just some kid in her pyjamas and a visor, too weak to stand on her own.

It was suddenly quiet and I started to relax, allowing my eyes to close and my body to relax as Steve kept me in his arms like I was a child again.

"Hey, Peanut."

My eyes snapped open and I reached up to tap my visor. "Dad?"

"Good work out there."

"Wow..." I sighed, relieved to hear his voice.

"You played a big part in our victory today, Y/N. I'm proud of you. I'll see you on the ground."

Comms clicked off.

Finally.

I made my dad proud.

"Wait..." I mutter and look up at Steve.

"You won?" I asked.

The man smiled down at me, adjusting his arms to keep me from falling.

"We did, Neoma."

We did.

We won.

I'm part of the team.

The moment the lifeboat landed on the Helicarrier, I fell from Steve's arms and ran to my dad, colliding with him in a hug.

I hissed when I crashed into his metal suit, causing him to laugh. "I can't believe that's the stupidest thing you did today."

"That was so cool," I tilted my head up.

His metal hand gently patted my back. 

After my outburst, my adrenaline faded and I felt my body shaking again. "I'm gonna pass out now."

●    ◉    ◎    ◈    ◎    ◉    ●

"I'll carry you back."

"Okay." With that, I let myself go.

I was forced to stay in a hospital for a few weeks to recover and was so graciously visited by my dad every once in a blue moon with a tub of ice cream and a tail of paparazzi.

I don't know what exactly he used as an excuse to explain the fact that his daughter just so happened to be hospitalised right after the Avengers were in a battle in Sokovia.

But I believe that he told them that I downed a bottle of bleach after I walked in on... Something.

"Sure are a lot of trees," I commented with a soft giggle, looking down at the holographic image of the new Avengers compound from my hospital bed, the cookie dough ice cream tub sitting on my lap.

"Isn't that what you wanted, Rapunzel?"

"This isn't exactly a cozy little house but you got the prairie part down," I shook my head, handing him back the tablet and picking up the tub to stuff cookie dough into my mouth.

"There's just no satisfying you, is there?" My dad sighed teasingly as he tapped away at the tablet.

"Oh, I'm pretty satisfied. I think the only thing left is for me to go to school," I shrugged.

"Yeah?" My dad spared a glance. "MIT, right?"

"Yeah. Just like you."

"Well, my dad did get me an interview there... And since you're just like me..." He trailed off.

I jumped in excitement and practically screamed. "You got me an interview at MIT?!" My dad quickly reached out to catch the ice cream tub that I threw into the air at my sudden outburst. "... Sorry."

He sighed and shook his head, putting the tub on the nightstand next to my bed.

"I'm not comfortable with you staying in Massachusetts, so we'll try to come up with a compromise for the commute."

"Holy shit! Dad, you're the best!" I laughed excitedly, making sure to keep my excitement better contained this time.

"I've been waiting my whole life to hear those words."

I purse my lips, smiling as I nervously fiddle with my fingers.

"What?" My dad put the tablet down, noticing my antics.

"Did I... Was I..." I pause, gathering my thoughts to form into words. "Did I do good in Sokovia?"

He sighed and sat on the edge of my bed, reaching up to gently run his fingers through my hair, his voice shifting into something softer.

"You were beyond exceptional, Peanut. I can't express how proud I am of you. Albeit, I was scared to death, and you have a very inconvenient weakness... But... You proved yourself to be strong enough to handle it."

"Thank you for this," I mumbled, smiling genuinely. No hint of mischief or mockery. Just absolute sincerity and gratitude.

"What?" He asked.

"Putting up with me. And for letting me do this," I leaned forward, doing little grabby hands.

My dad scooted forward to wrap his arms around me, kissing the top of my head. "If I'm being honest, your persistence and stubbornness are your best qualities. Especially as a future Avenger."

I pulled away and looked up into his eyes with pure disbelief. "Holy shit-"

"Don't swear."

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" I exclaimed, jumping in excitement in my spot on the bed. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

My dad sighed. "Not yet. You're still very new to this. But with the proper training-"

"I will not let you down, Dad!" I jumped with my arms in the air before lunging forward for another hug. "Thank you."

"Welcome to the team, Neoma."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[loveswrites]

Always (Lo'ak X reader)

Lo'ak x reader

Just a little something I made for my friend. Hope you like it!

"I think it's hot that I'm dating a cougar." Lo'ak started making you pause. 

"Wai-wait what? Where did you learn that word? And first of all, I'm not a cougar. I'm just one year older than you, meaning that I have more wisdom than you. So that makes me the smart one." You said as a matter of fact playfully pushing his shoulders.

"Wisdom? Are you calling me stupid?" He said, shifting his eyes towards you, raising an eyebrow.

"If the shoe fits." You replied not making eye contact.

Continuing your midnight stroll that Lo'ak decided he wanted to take you on, You two fell into a calm silence. All that could be heard were the soft crashes of the waves of the Island. Soft breathing and the sound of your feet pitter patting on the sand. You felt Lo'ak's eyes on you. Scanning up and down your body. You wondered why he was staring at you. Sure he can look, but he was straight up staring. Not taking his beautiful, adoring eyes off you. 

You dared not to look. 

It made you nervous. He made you nervous. But in a good way, a type of nervousness that you would go through a thousand times over just to stand by his side. You’ve always felt something for him ever since you laid eyes on him. Even though you guys are dating neither of you have spoken the “3 Words Eight letters” thing to each other yet.

Though you wish to hear them, you're kinda scared. In fact you dread the day. You’ve heard that saying those words brings a relationship down hill and straight to hell in a burning roller coaster.  

And that’s not what you needed right now, That’s not what you wanted. You wanted something forever with Lo’ak and you wouldn’t ruin it by just saying 3 words that would cost you everything you’ve ever cared about. You asked your mother Ronal what you should do about these feelings, that you’ve had pent up and stuck in your heart for as long as you could remember. But the fact that she doesn't even truly like Lo'ak wasn’t much help to you. 

She says “He's nothing but a disgrace, A trouble maker. You should not involve yourself too deeply with him. These feelings that you say you have for him are just made up in your mind. They. Do. Not. Matter.”

Those words that she said repeated in your head for days. 

They. Do. Not. Matter. 

So that’s what you kept telling yourself. You and your mom had that conversion a few weeks ago and ever since then you’ve been pushing Lo’ak away. Putting some distance between you and the problem your mom said it helps. Sometimes you think that she was wrong, especially when you went from spending everyday with Lo’ak to 4 times a week, to once a week, and then some weeks none. Every Time you saw his face around the Island you'd turn the other way. If you heard his voice you’d tune it out.

 Just when you thought it was beginning to be easy to be away from him or more like hide from him, it didn’t matter which. He started popping up everywhere like a Jack in the box as the humans say.. I think. Mom doesn’t tell me much about them. Only that they are horrible creatures and to stay away from them. I’m sure that’s what they tell their children about us as well. 

To stay away from them. 

Stay away from them.

Stay away from him.

I’d say it would be easy to do if it wasn’t him. 

“Sa’nara?” You heard not acknowledging it at first still stuck in your thoughts. 

“Sa’nara?..” Nothing.

Lo’ak furrowed his eyebrows. You weren’t answering him which only made him feel worse. He felt like you two were slowly drifting away. He felt like you were leaving him and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. The harder he fought the further you’d float away. He always told you he’d never leave you but he  soon realized that you never made the same promise. You would say that you’d always care for him, and that’s not the same.

That’s not enough.

That was a bare promise. 

A promise that you could easily reverse and he wanted more than that with you. He always has.  Late nights when he couldn’t sleep he’d always go lay in the sand and admire the skys thinking of you. That’s all he’d ever think about. You.

Never feeling like he was truly meant to be here, a part of the clan. Like he was always in the way or that no one wanted him here.

He would think about getting out of here, leaving the clan and starting somewhere new. He noticed that he never saw himself leaving by himself though. You were always with him by his side ready to take on wherever was thrown at the two of you, ready to back him up like he was for you. 

Lo’ak never felt that way with you though. He felt.. Loved. 

He felt accepted, wanted. He felt that the feelings he felt for you were always being reciprocated and he would never have to question if he was enough.

But lately with how distant you've become, Lo’ak started to question if he was enough for you. If you even wanted him. That made him nervous.. No.

Scared.

He feared a life without you. You’ve always been there for him. Through his rants of insecurity that he had that he would never admit to anyone but him. Through his anger, his sadness, his happiness, his pain, his everything. And that’s what you were to him. 

His everything. 

You were his, And he was going to keep it that way.

Determination flooding through his veins he turned and grabbed your arm in a firm but not enough to hurt grip. Turning you to face him he watched you. 

“Sa’nara.” He said looking at you with very serious stern eyes. As if to say you can’t keep running away from me. 

This only made you even more nervous. Doing your best not to show it though you stood tall. Your mother always told you to stand tall no matter what.

“ Lo’ak.” You said, pulling your arm away from his grip. His touch made you feel weak. And weak was not what you needed right now. You needed to stand strong. To be strong. 

“Why have you been avoiding me?” He questioned.

“I’m sorry? What do you mean?” You said trying to act innocent and confused. 

“Don’t I'm sorry me! Tell me why you’ve been dodging me, Everytime I see you I only catch a glimpse before you turn around and run away!” lo’ak practically screamed, throwing his hands in the air showing his frustration.

“I run from no one.” You frowned.

“So we're lying to each other now? God, you're driving me crazy!” He drug his hands down his face now pacing the sand. 

“Why did you even invite me here?” You questioned, watching as his pacing paused. Your question tugged at a string of his heart, that made him feel like the whole foundation of it was going to break and fall apart at any moment now. If he made the wrong move it would all come crashing down. He tilted his head as his eyes widely searched your face for any type of emotion. All he found was the soldier your mother built as he called it. 

“You don’t want me anymore.” lo’ak said, standing tall looking down at you with sad eyes. Eyes that he only has reserved for you.

“I didn’t say tha-” 

“You don’t have to say it! You don’t have to say anything! I see it on your face, you don’t look at me the way you used to look at me with so much.. So much..”

“ So much what Lo’ak!” You stated, growing a little irritated.

“Love! Okay?! You used to look at me with so much love! So much love that I could feel it, I could feel it through those beautiful doe eyes of yours. I could see it! The way you used to talk to me with your heart stopping voice that I could hear it! The way you used to touch me-” Lo’ak’s voice cracked and he walked closer to you grabbing your cheek to look up at him and wrapping his other arm around your waist pulling you into him so softly, tenderly. Like if he were to hold you, grab you any tighter or rougher you'd wither away and you'd be gone forever. 

“You used to touch me so softly, so full of love, every time you touched me my heart would explode into a million pieces but at the same time your touch made me whole again babygirl. Your love was and is the only thing worth living for. I love you so much. I wished you’d understand that and stop pushing me away. I Love you. And I’d never leave you or hurt you. I’d protect you with my life because you are worth more than I'll ever be. You mean more to me than I'll ever mean to anyone or myself.” 

By this time you were crying tear after tear rolling down your face. They never made it past your nose because he was there to wipe them away. He was always there for you. To wipe your tears away, To kiss them away, To help you laugh them away. The point being he never left your side until you left his. 

Just like he promised.

“Do you really mean that?” You asked, looking up at him running your hands up his chest. This is the furthest you two have gotten to saying I love you and you just hoped that he wasn’t joking, and that everything he was saying was true. Because if it wasn’t you don’t think that you’d ever recover.

“You know I mean it.. I don’t get all hearted eyes for nothing. I love you. And I want you by my side, always.”

“I-I love you t-” You started but got cut off feeling soft warm lips placed on top of yours. Immediately you relaxed in his arms. Wrapping your arms around his neck pulling him down closer to you, you deepened the kiss. Feeling like you were finally home. That you were finally whole again. You felt his tail trail up and down your leg, making you giggle into the kiss and pull away. After what seemed like an eternity of staring into each other's eyes you were the first to speak.

“Always?” 

“Always.”

And with that you both sealed your fate with one simple word alongside with 3 other ones. That no matter what, through thick and thin. 

The two of you would always be One.

[portaltothevoid]

For Whom the Bell Tolls - Chapter 21 - A Forest

Pairing: Eddie Munson x OFC (Kat Ramsay), sequel to Foolin’

Summary: Eddie and Steve have a heart to heart on the way to Nancy’s. The group faces a new threat.

Warnings: None that I can think of?

Word count: 1.8k

Chapter song: A Forest by The Cure

Tag list: @munchabunch​ @madaboutmunson​​ @earl-greater

Thunderstorms were usually comforting. The low rumbles or sudden cracks, the lightning that would fork across the sky or illuminate everything in this almost lavender glow. Here though? In this other world? In the Upside Down? It did nothing, but caused an uneasy feeling to settle around Kat. It was constant.

Everything was muted and abysmal. These snowflakes, or whatever they were, constantly floating through the air like ash from nuclear fallout. Blood red skies above only glowing a deeper red which each flash of lightning in the clouds overhead. Robin and Nancy had wandered ahead, set on a path of determination. Eddie and Steve had fallen to the back of the pack, while Kat just kept to herself. Her arms crossed, she tried to keep pulling them as close to her body as she could in order to self-soothe.  

She knew the others couldn’t pick up on what she was feeling, and while she wasn’t sure how, she knew they were being watched. Not just her, every single one of them walking through that forest. The vines acted like feelers or warning signals. That wasn’t what was keeping an eye on them, keeping track of them. It was something else entirely. 

With each step forward the only thing Kat could focus on was her breathing. She hated how scared she felt. She had lost years of her life training for something like this. There was a time when she would have immediately gone on the hunt for Vecna and taken her shot at him. This time, in her current state, she felt like nothing more than a coward. Terrified of what lies beyond the next corner, scared of what could be lurking in the trees surrounding them, frightened at the thought that not everyone would make it out of this ordeal alive. She was the one with the power. Her responsibility was to save those around her. Given the track record of Vecna: 3 and Kat: 0, her confidence was definitely waning. 

The feeling in the pit of her stomach felt like the moment before you dropped on a roller coaster, only it was constant. She didn’t even feel the dampness of her clothes, but instead was weighed down by dread. Her feet kept following the girls in front of her. Always having them in her sight reminded her to just move forward, because if she didn’t, she was ten seconds to spiraling.

Steve breaking the silence to talk with Eddie helped Kat to focus on something else besides the doom and gloom that was encapsulating her.

“Eddie. Hey, man, uh… Listen, I just, uh…” he sputtered. “I just want to say thanks for saving my ass back there.”

“Shit. You saved your own ass, man. I mean, that was a real Ozzy move you pulled back there,” Eddie said sincerely. Kat couldn’t help, but crack a small smile at Eddie’s reference. Meanwhile, he was shocked at Steve’s gratitude. These past few days have been shocking for him. The people that Hawkins had put on a pedestal, like Chrissy, like Steve, were turning out to be quite the opposite from their supposed “popular” stereotypes.

“Ozzy?” Steve asked, clearly not knowing what Eddie was referring to.

“When you took a bite out of that bat,” Eddie paused when he was met with a blank look from Steve. “Ozzy Osbourne? Black Sabbath? He bit a bat’s head off on stage.”

“I don’t–”

“You know?”

“No.”

“Doesn’t  matter. It was very metal, what you did. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Thanks,” Steve said, unsure of how to take this compliment from Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson.

“Henderson told me you were a badass. Insisted on the matter, in fact.”

“Wait, Henderson said that?” Steve clarified, surprised now by this sudden confession.

“Oh, yeah. Shit. Kid worships you, dude. Like, you have no idea. It’s kinda annoying, to be honest. I don’t even know why I care what that little shrimp thinks, but, uh, guess I just got a little jealous, Steve. I guess I couldn’t accept the fact that Steve Harrington was actually… a good dude.” 

The words just came spilling out of Eddie and once he started, it was like he couldn’t stop. His words were nothing, but true. Henderson was one of his favorites in Hellfire Club. As soon as he spotted him, he saw a bit of himself in the kid, especially his brazen “I am who I am” attitude. Eddie never had a sibling. Hell, he barely had anyone to look up to when he was Dustin’s age. The only person he had to figure things out with was himself and as his reputation precedes him, he didn’t make a lot of good choices. If even just for a year, he could guide Dustin to stay true to himself, that’s what he was gonna do. He wanted to be that older brother figure for his younger friend, but with how much Dustin admired Steve, he always felt as if he was in Steve’s shadow. Steve’s comments and being there for Kat when he wasn’t, like at her birthday, ate him up inside. Not that he would ever show it. 

Jealousy always finds a way to creep in and make itself at home. Steve was the one with the leg up in the world while Eddie had to fight and claw his way for everything he had. He was sick of fighting, of feeling weak. So whenever he could, he was always jab back at Steve. And yet, over these past few days, he was able to see a kinder side to his unofficial archenemy. Steve was with Dustin the whole time helping and making sure not only Kat was safe, but him too. He wanted to protect him and clear his name as much as anyone in that group. The kindness and at some points selflessness, Eddie could do nothing, but respect that.

“Rich parents, popular, chicks love him. Not a douche?” Eddie continued. “No way, man. No way. That, like, flies in the face of all the laws in the universe and my own personal Munson doctrine,” he said as he put his hands over his heart. “And not to mention how you were there to help her,” he dropped his voice to a whisper and nodded in front of him to Kat, “with that whole birthday fiasco…”

Steve wasn’t all that used to compliments outside of his looks, so his only response was to bashfully crook his mouth up into a half smile. This awkward air fell over them and Eddie, trying to diffuse it, leaned in, invading Steve’s space a bit, as he said “Still super jealous as hell, by the way,” causing them both to snicker at the admission. “Which is why I never would have jumped in that lake to save your ass. Not under any… uh, normal circumstances.”

Suddenly a branch snapped. Everyone froze. Steve shone his flashlight in the direction of the sound. No one could see anything, but a distant growling could be heard. Kat slowly turned her head in the direction of the sound. Her hand instantly flew up to the back of her neck, feeling it covered in goosebumps. Whatever was watching them, was making itself known. She waited for Steve and Eddie to be a few steps behind her before she continued forward.

“Nope. Outside of D&D, I am no hero. I see danger and I just turn heel and run. Or at least that’s what I’ve learned about myself this week.” Flickers of shame tugged at Eddie’s voice. Kat frowned hearing him say that, knowing how he had saved her countless times. At this point, she couldn’t really help but share his sentiments with her own self-doubt.

“Give yourself a break, man,” Steve said as he slapped his hand across Eddie’s chest.

“See?” Eddie held up a hand to stop Steve. Kat slowly walked forward knowing they had stopped, but wanted to see where this was going. “The only reason I came in here was ‘cause those ladies came in straight after you. Even Kat. Granted I would have followed her anyway, but she’s not close to you like the other two. And yet, immediately she was taking off her jacket to dive in to rescue you, or some shit. Me? I was too ashamed to be the one who stayed behind. But Wheeler, right there, she didn’t waste a second. Not one second. She just dove right in. Now, I don’t know what happened between you two, but if I were you, I would get her back. ‘Cause that was as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen.” 

Steve processed what Eddie was telling him as he stared longly at Nancy as she carried on in front of him.

“He’s right, you know,” Kat chimed in, unable to resist any longer as she walked back towards them. “And I, for one, am speaking from experience. If this cynical guy, here…” she said tapping on his chest and cocking her head at Steve, “If anything were to ever happen to him? I’d send whoever hurt him into another alternate dimension. And you can’t tell me Nancy wouldn’t at least try to do the same for you.”

Eddie beamed down at Kat who returned the loving smile. Steve sighed and as he opened his mouth to say something, a loud snapping sound was heard from the woods. Closer than the first one they heard. Steve immediately shut his mouth, but opened it again to say “Wh-what was that?” as he shone his flashlight around their perimeter. 

“Robin. Nancy. Stop,” Kat commanded.

A low growling sound came from behind them. Kat put her hands out, herding the group behind her, shielding them. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing straight up. She knew whatever was watching them, whatever was following them, was only a few seconds away from making its move.

When I tell you guys to run, fucking run. No matter what. Just nod slowly if you understand. Kat said to the group using her telepathy. Everyone nodded, their eyes wide at what she was able to do. Everyone that is, except Eddie. Eddie, we don’t fucking have time for this. If I say run, you run. Reluctantly, he nodded once. Not that he was actually going to obey her. There’s no way he’d leave her to fend for herself. No way.

Quickly, an image of a house appeared in Kat’s mind. She could feel nothing but Nancy’s presence surrounding the image. Run to Nancy’s house. Don’t look back. She instructed and then turned her attention briefly towards Eddie, gaining his attention. I will meet you there.

The growling grew louder, then a sound like someone obnoxiously licking their lips was heard from behind the trees. Branches and dead leaves crunched under this thing’s feet. And then, it moved into full view. It was crouched on all fours. Its head opened like a flower, revealing trails of spit and rows upon rows of sharp teeth. A couple of the creature’s friends decided to join the soirée, popping out from behind nearby trees. Flanking at its heels. The supposed leader let out an ear piercing roar that was aimed directly at Kat.

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[4daddy-baby]

Visiting Professor

It was with suppressed excitement that I knocked on Professor Erling's

door.

He opened it wide, a smile on the corner of his lips. His tall, broad

shouldered frame moved just slightly to the side, creating a small space

for me to enter.

"I admire punctuality," he said.

I tried to smile back, but I could feel it come out as a thin tremor. I

squeezed in past him, wanting body contact but avoiding it.

The door closed behind me.

His house was immaculate. Stark without being austere. A large, many spined

ebony carving adorned one wall. The couches were black, the carpets and

walls were all white. One green plant. One blue bowl filled with lemons on

the countertop. Everything just so perfectly placed.

*POP*

The sound of the wine bottle uncorking caught me off-guard. I must've

jumped because Professor Erling looked amused.

"Drink, Professor Sherman?" he asked, waving two wine glasses. "Or do you

wish to jump right into the discussion of Fourier's Heat Law," he added

with a sarcastic drawl.

I gulped only to find my mouth was dry.

"Drink would be great," I rasped, then cleared my throat.

We both had meetings in our calendars for the upcoming week to discuss

complex math problems. Tonight was supposed to be a social thing, just to

get to know each other outside of the university setting.

But I could not deny that I wanted more. No, not math. I wanted to learn if

there was truth to certain rumours that floated around in certain specific

group chats.

He handed me the wine. We both sat down on orthogonal couches. I began to

sip.

"It's a lovely place," I said. "Beautiful and sev- serious."

He gestured a curt wave with his fingers.

"You can say severe," he said. "That is an acceptable compliment, in my

books. Though I would use the word - disciplined."

A shiver of excitement ran down my spine. I kept my breathing even.

"You look to be plenty disciplined yourself," I said boldly. "Not all math

professors bring back the same level of discipline that they apply at work

to maintaining their ... bodies."

Even though his light blue shirt was not too tight, I could see his massive

pecs firm up from the compliment. His face, however, remained impassive.

He replied, "I have seen what happens to those who surrender too quickly to

the ravages of time and senescence. And I am only in my mid-forties." He

ran his hand through his light blond hair, making his bicep and pec bulge

again. "Speaking of time, I was intrigued by your paper on time series

forecasting in post-recession investment management. How many quants did

you have working for you?"

He was turning the conversation towards our technical background and I went

with the flow. I found myself excitedly talking about anything he

asked. And yet, when he would abruptly and firmly change the subject, I

found that I didn't begrudge the change at all. With anyone else, I would

have been miffed, if not downright annoyed.

He himself sat perfectly still, with exception of occasional sips of his

wine and some punctuating hand gestures.

At one point, my stomach rumbled in demand for food. I blushed. He

completely ignored it. We continued talking.

There was a bump from the floor above.

I paused and my eyes darted up to the ceiling. I looked back at him. He

hadn't moved or looked away from me. Though I got the sense that there was

a hint of a smile on the corners of his mouth. I sipped some wine, cast one

more look up and then resumed the conversation.

It wasn't until exactly at 7pm when he cut off our conversation and led me

over to the dining table.

I was served perfectly baked salmon and potatoes. He must've had them in

the oven since before I arrived. The timing needed to be precise, as well

as the cut and position in the oven.

He served it on both our plates, drizzled it cleanly with a creamy dill

dressing, and refilled my wine glass.

We both began our dinner. The taste was exquisite. Like everything else

about him. I was shoving forkfuls into my mouth. He was cutting out exact

pieces and chewing calmly.

Suddenly there was another sound from upstairs. A door slamming shut.

I looked back at him, this time my brow furrowed in question.

He swallowed the morsel and then actually smiled.

"That's just my ... son," he said. His eyes locked on to mine in a

challenge. We both knew that he didn't have a family.

My heart started pounding, my face blushed. I couldn't believe it. The

rumours were true?! I wanted to ask, I wanted to- But I didn't have the

courage.

"Oh. Okay," I replied nervously. I fidgeted and then realized that I was

adjusting my growing cock. I brought my hand back up above the table and

kept my eyes on my plate as I ate.

He too resumed eating. The clink of silverware filled silence in the room.

When we were done, he cleaned up the table, rinsed the plates, and put them

in the dishwasher.

"A bit of port to wind down?" he asked, reaching for a different bottle. I

nodded.

We returned to the living room and he poured out the dessert wine. I

realized that the lights had automatically dimmed inside, just as twilight

had fully descended outside.

I tried to steer the conversation to his childhood and his background,

hoping to find out more about his son. But he deftly turned it right back

to my childhood.

"Yes, I was always closer to my mother than my fa-" I stopped mid

sentence. There was a creak from the stairs. And then another.

Someone was coming down the stairs to the living room.

I could see in my periphery that Professor Erling's eyes were locked onto

mine. But mine were locked onto the stairs.

A bare foot descended onto a step that I could see. Then the second one.

It descended again, and again.

Bare, brown calves came into view.

And then, the thighs. Reddish brown, muscular like an Olympic

athlete. Completely smooth, like the rest of the leg.

As the naked upper thighs came into view, I swallowed in anticipation,

wondering if this figure was completely naked. I held my breath as the

crotch descended.

Blue, red, black net, bulge. It took me a second to process what I was

seeing. The bulge was straining against a pair of tight, way too tight and

small, spiderman briefs. It looked like the underwear of a 15 year old had

been forced onto a man. And when he descended even more, I realized that's

exactly what had happened. His shaved crotch was all too visible as the hem

of the underwear could not cover much of his hips and groin.

He descended.

His adonis belt came into view. His taut stomach with four easily visible

abs. Deliciously brown and smooth. Something big and yellow by his side.

He descended.

His bulging pecs and dark brown nipples came into view. His muscular arms

wrapped around a large, yellow stuffed toy. Likely one of those Japanese

animated creatures.

He descended onto the living room floor.

A college student. Pure-blooded native American, by the looks of him. Bold,

sharp cheekbones. A fanged necklace hanging between his pectoral

cleavage. His hair long down to his neck.

I realized that my cock was fully hard.

"Daddy," he said in a soft voice, pitched as high and mewling as he

could. "Won't you tuck me in bed and read me a bedtime story?" His eyes

looked pleadingly towards Professor Erling, completely ignoring me.

The professor stood up. He looked at me said, "Excuse me, Professor

Sherman, but it is time for me to tuck in my little boy." He walked over to

the college boy and turned him towards the stairs. With his arm wrapped

around the boy's waist, he started to take him up the stairs.

Then he stopped. Turned around. And said to me, "Of course, you are welcome

to watch."

He turned back and continued climbing.

I realized my jaw had dropped at some point. I closed my mouth, put down my

port with shaking fingers, and stood up. My cock was tenting my pants and

there was no way to hide it.

I left the living room and walked up the stairs. The lights behind me

dimmed down to total darkness.

---

I opened wide the door to his son's room. It was covered in superhero

posters on every wall. I recognized some GI Joe posters too. And there were

shirtless burly men drawn in an oriental style as well.

There was a half finished lego castle in one corner. A lava lamp lit the

room. The bed was covered in Aladdin sheets featuring Disney's rendition of

the genie. And on top of the sheets was the hot college boy, laying naked

with his hard cock pointing up at the cieling, eyes on his daddy.

The professor was carefully putting away the stuffed toy.

Once he was done, he started to unbutton his shirt.

In slow motion, his pale Scandinavian arms and torso came into view. Pecs

covered with blond and grey hair. No abs but no sign of a belly either. Not

quite as Olympian a build as the college boy, but easily in the 95th

percentile of men in their mid forties.

He hooked his fingers on to his pants buttons and unhooked them.

"Have you brushed your teeth?" he asked the college boy sternly.

"Yes, Daddy," the boy replied dutifully.

The professor lowered his pants, his strong, hairy thighs and calves coming

into view.

"Have you folded and put away your laundry?"

"Yes, Daddy."

The professor lowered his black boxer briefs to the floor. An eight inch

cock, thick, with a purple mushroom head rose up towards the ceiling. I

licked my lips.

"Have you done your homework?" he asked.

"Yes, Daddy," the boy replied, with a note of shame in his voice.

As the professor walked slowly to the bed, he spoke without turning to look

at me. "Some students in my class think that they can coast by without

doing their homework." He clambered on top of the bed, kneeling with his

legs on either side of the college boy's torso. "And then they discover

that they cannot pass my class without doing their homework." He moved up

so that his cockhead was against the lips of the college boy. "A select few

of those students get made an offer by me." He put a finger under the base

of his cock and slowly dragged it up to the tip. A spurt of precum came

gushing out and covered the boy's lips. The boy did not open his lips but

waited patiently. "And some of them even take me up on that offer. For one

week, they have the honour of being my son." He used his cock to rub the

precum all over the college boy's face. "My good little boy." With each

word, he smacked his slimed cock on the boy's face. "Open wide for Daddy's

pacifier."

Immediately, the college boy opened his mouth, eagerly took the professor's

mushroom head into his mouth, and began sucking. The boy's own cock was

hard, long, and dripping. But he kept his hands on the professor's thighs.

My own hand went down to my hard cock tenting my pants and squeezed it.

The professor's head snapped in my direction like a whip, and his face

darkened.

"Hands off!" he commanded, and my hands flew behind my back, clasping each

other. "Only one cock," he continued, "Gets to be pleasured under this

roof. If you cannot control yourself, leave!"

Of course I wasn't going to leave. I sputtered some form of apology but his

attention was already back to his ... son.

As his boy slowly but eagerly sucked his cockhead, the professor reached

over to the bedside shelf and picked up a small children's picture. He

opened it up to the first page and began reading.

"Once upon a time, there was a brave, little prince."

He pushed his cockhead deeper into the college boy's mouth.

"The prince's mother ruled over the largest forest in the lands."

One of his hands moved away from the book and rested on the massive,

bulging, smooth, brown pec of the college boy.

"One day, the prince decided to run away and explore the forest without any

of his royal guards."

He was turning the pages with his thumb as he held the book with one hand.

"The prince saw a beehive. He tried to get the honey, but he only got

stung."

He squeezed the boy's pec and pinched his nipple. Precum gushed out from

the boy's cock, as he moaned in pleasure.

"The prince saw a salmon jump up from a river. He tried to catch it, but he

only gulped down water."

He pushed his cock more than half way in. The boy gagged but the cock just

kept going.

"The prince saw a purple mushroom. He tried to eat it, but it only choked

him."

He put the book on the bed, to the side. He gripped the boy's head with

both hands and skullfucked his student until the gagging boy was frothing

at the mouth. For his part, the boy didn't seem to be opposed to it. He was

holding on to the professor's thighs for dear life, but it didn't look like

he was pushing him back.

The professor removed his cock from the boy's mouth. The boy sputtered and

gasped for breath, but then his mouth followed the cockhead's movement like

a snake being charmed by a snake charmer.

The professor removed his whole body off the bed. The boy turned over on to

his belly, got on all fours, and then moved to hold his ass close to the

edge of the bed, likely lined up with the professor's cock. He, and the

professor, were both facing me. The professor picked up the book again with

one hand while his other hand was out my sight, behind the boy's ass.

"Shall I continue the story, son?"

"Yes, please, Daddy!" he said.

"Mmm... maybe I don't want to continue the story..." His hand behind the

boy was moving very slowly, judging by the motion of his arms.

"But it's my favourite story!" the boy whined. "Please, please, pretty

please, Daddy, with cherry on top!"

"Hmmm... very well then. Let's see. And then the Prince met a white wolf."

His hips thrust forward and the Native American boy gasped.

"The wolf said to the prince, 'Hurry home, little boy, or you will soon get

eaten.'" His hips slowly pushed all the way forward until he must've been

fully in. The boy's eyes rolled back into his eyes in pleasure as he let

out a feral whine.

"The prince replied, 'But this is all my country and one day I will be

king!'" The boy breathed in deeply, adjusting to the cock.

"The white wolf felt pity for the prince, but his own hunger was

ravening. He pounced on the boy and ate all of him except his heart."

Dropping the book to the floor, the professor grabbed the athletic college

boy by his hips with both hands and began to fuck him in earnest. The boy

moaned in toe-curling ecstasy as his professor pounded him from

behind. Minutes went by as the pair mated in this position. I could see a

sheen of sweat on his back and on the professor's chest. They grunted and

moaned but no words were exchanged.

The boy started to breathe heavily. Both his hands clutched the sheets

around him. He let out one long whine and lowered his head to the bed. His

body twitched and jerked.

When his head rose up, I saw that there was cum on the sheets under his

belly.

The professor kept rutting. This hips slapping against the boy's ass over

and over.

And then the professor went rigid and still. All the veins in his muscles

seemed to bulge, but if he was breathing heavily, I couldn't tell.

Then he let out a deep breath, and pulled away from the boy. The boy looked

behind over his shoulder and said, "Thank you Daddy for the bedtime story

and for Daddy's nighttime milkies!" He got up, gave the professor a kiss on

the cheek, grabbed a towel from a dresser, and left the room. I heard the

sound of a shower start.

The professor had put on a bathrobe and he headed back down the stairs.

I knew I was to follow, but I just had to check one thing.

I bounded into the now empty room that smelled of sex. I found the

children's picture book and opened it to the page where the professor had

stopped. I read the words under my breath.

"The wolf took the Prince's heart to the Queen. Weeping, she took the heart

and placed it in a wicker puppet. For years after, the kingdom was ruled by

the wise but fragile wicker king, and for years after, the white wolf

continued devouring any boys that came his way. The End."

I flipped to the cover. "The Prince and the White Wolf" by Erik Erling. I

placed it back on the shelf along with many other similar titles. "The

Black Swan and the White Wolf" by Erik Erling. "The Lonely Dove and the

White Wolf" by Erik Erling.

I hastily left the room and walked back down the stairs.

[sweeterthanthis]

Your Filthy Heart

Part Three: The Pure and The Poison

Your Filthy Heart Masterlist

Thank you to @ozarkthedog for reading this through for me and to @msmarvelwrites for the support and some epic dirty talk suggestions!

Summary: It’s time to give Daddy a taste of his own medicine by bringing your boyfriend, Peter Parker, home for dinner.

Pairing: Stepdad!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Peter Parker x Female Reader

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, explicit language, daddy/stepdad kink, infidelity, vaginal sex, dirty talk, derogatory language, a touch of face slapping, cum play(?). 18+.

 Word Count: 3.5k

“I’m nervous, like really nervous. Is my tie straight?” 

There was a part of you that felt guilty for dragging Peter into your shit, truly. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying his affections. 

He was handsome, a strong jawline, kind eyes, a boy next door kinda attitude. Peter was everything that Bucky wasn’t, and maybe a little part of you made the conscious decision to start dating him because he was so different.

You knew you were pushing your luck, but when the thought occurred to invite him home for dinner, your mouth engaged before your brain and you’d already asked. 

“It’s just dinner, Pete. You didn’t need to wear a tie at all.” You couldn’t help but smile at him as he fixed his hair in the rear mirror, but the pit of dread in your stomach was only growing more by the second. “Come on, Mom’s probably bouncing up and down in anticipation.”

“Your Stepdad’s gonna be home soon right? Fuck, I wanna make a good impression.” 

Placing a hand on his thigh, muscular and firm, you gave it a reassuring squeeze. He really was adorable, an underlying sexiness about him because he was so concerned with being the most decent guy he could be. And he didn’t deserve a single second of the torture you were about to put him through. 

Was that going to stop you? Absolutely not. 

You knew your mother would be too high on the buzz that you’d finally met a guy you’d deemed important enough to bring home for dinner. She wouldn’t notice the impending tension, of that you were sure. 

Stepping out of Peter’s car, your tummy flipping at the thought of Bucky coming home to find his spot in the garage taken, you readjusted your skirt and motioned at Peter to get out of the car with a roll of your eyes and a nod of your head. 

“Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He muttered, reaching for the bouquet of flowers he’d bought for your Mom in the back seat. 

Grabbing his hand, you tugged him towards the door connecting the house to your garage, you made your way to the kitchen -- the scent of pot roast, of course, filling the air and the sounds of gentle piano music playing softly in the background. 

Your Mom really had gone the whole hog to make a good impression, and you couldn’t blame her. She had no idea you were screwing her husband, feelings of possessiveness and bitterness growing with each passing day. 

She loved Peter. That much was very clear from the second she’d been introduced to him.  

You feigned interest as she sat across from him on the plush, cream sofa; asking him a thousand questions and not allowing him the airtime to answer a single one before she’d thought of another. 

But all you could think of was him. The look on his face when he saw Peter sitting next to you on the couch, the hand that was currently resting loosely on your knee, your Mother’s beaming smile as she informed him that we had a dinner guest. 

You revelled in the power you held — the power to drive him insane with jealousy. 

You zoned out as you helped your Mother set the table, the sound of her voice muffled in your ears when you heard the low rumble of a car engine pull up on the driveway; blood instantly pounding in your ears. 

“Oh, that’ll be James.” Your mother gushed, clasping her hands together and straightening out the cutlery on the way back to the kitchen. 

James. 

She always did like to abandon the nickname when she was trying to impress. You’d heard the name ring out in the night air on more than one occasion that week. And the thought made you sick. 

You held no claim over him. Not really. But that didn’t stop the rage from bubbling in your belly each and every time. 

“Hey, you okay? You look as nervous as I feel.” 

Peters hand resting on your lower back, his soft eyes looking down on you with gentle concern, you forced yourself to smile and nodded. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. He can just be a little,” you paused, wringing your fingers together in front of you, “intense.” 

He wrapped his arm around your waist, tugging you into his side to give your body a reassuring squeeze — guilt thumping through your veins as you cursed yourself for dragging him into the mess you’d found yourself in. 

“Anyone wanna tell me who’s car is in my spot?” 

The sound of his voice, laced with irritation and curiosity, had your heart beating rapidly in your chest; the reality of what you’d done setting in as his footsteps drew nearer. 

“Hey, it’ll be fine. I’ll make a good impression, I promise.” 

Peter was too good for you, of that much you were certain. But you forced a smile anyway, leaning up on your tiptoes to meet his waiting kiss. 

At the worst possible moment. 

“What do we have here?” 

Exhaling a shaky breath, you composed yourself, opening your eyes to meet his fiery stare. There he stood in the living room doorway, rolling up the sleeves of his crisp, black button up. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to the way the veins in his hands flexed. 

Before you could speak, Peter stepped forward; holding his own hand out for Bucky to shake. 

“Mr Barnes, Sir, I’m Peter Parker. It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

All you could do was watch as Peter’s hand hung in the air, Bucky with his hands on his hips, leaning back on his heels slightly. The tension was evident, yet only you and he knew why — the weight of your entanglement heavy in the air. 

“Finally, huh?” 

Bucky caught your anxiety-ridden stare over Peter’s shoulder, chewing on the inside of his cheek; brow furrowed as he blew out a heavy breath through his nostrils. 

“Nice to meet you, Peter. I didn’t realise we’d be having a guest for dinner.” Bucky stepped forward then, forcing a smile and shaking Peter’s hand firmly with one hand, and planting the other firmly on his shoulder. “Would’ve come home earlier, but then nobody tells me anything in this house.” 

The intent to agitate Bucky was clearly paying off, but you never anticipated the way it would make you feel — stomach churning and headache inducing. 

With Peter in the room and your Mother hovering in the next room, you knew you were safe. Yet the thought of what he might do later that night after your Mother had passed out from necking too much Chardonnay had your tummy fluttering. 

“C’mon, Pete.” Bucky threw a smirk in your direction, throwing an arm around Peter’s shoulder and guiding him towards the kitchen. “Let’s go get a beer and leave the ladies to it, huh?”

Your mouth hung open in astonishment and your feet planted to the floor, all you could do was watch as your lover took your boyfriend aside for what you could only assume would be a desperately uncomfortable conversation. 

As you helped your Mother to prepare dinner, absentmindedly chopping tomatoes for the salad, you kept one eye on Bucky who was already sitting at the dining table across from a flustered Peter — and mentally kicked yourself for putting yourself in such a stressful situation. 

You tried not to look at him as you walked over to the table, salad bowl heavy in your trembling hands.

Walking around the back of his chair, you did your best to flash Peter a reassuring smile, his eyes flitting from yours to Bucky’s while he tried to keep his attention on the conversation. 

As you leant over to put the salad bowl on the table, a discreet, firm squeeze to your ass made you jump; his fingers digging into your flesh in not so subtle warning. 

“Oh!”

“Are you okay?” Peter asked, shooting a concerned look in your direction. 

Breathing a short sigh of relief when his hand withdrew, you straightened yourself out and walked around to your Boyfriends seat; blood hot with frustration at the way Bucky had put his hands on you in such a fragile situation. 

Suddenly, you simply didn’t give a fuck. 

How dare he try to lay a claim on you after everything you’d had to deal with; having to watch every day while he played at happy marriages with your mother. 

“I’m fine, Babe.” You leant down then, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek and shooting Bucky a warning stare. “I’m gonna go wash up for dinner, okay? Be right back.” 

Your anxiety was slowly morphing into vitriol, your hips swaying as you marched past your Stepfather’s unamused gaze. 

Fuck him. 

You washed your hands in the bathroom, gearing yourself up for what was sure to be a very awkward dinner — checking your makeup in the mirror, and fixing your hair. 

He’d riled you up, and now you had a point to prove. And you had every intention of doing so, one way or another. 

Making your way out of the bathroom, you straightened out your pleated skirt - the one you knew drove Bucky crazy - walking down the hallway with a confidence that you’d seemingly plucked out of nowhere. 

“What the-” 

One strong arm wrapped around your midsection, pulling your back tight against a broad chest -- and you needed no clue as to whom it belonged to. 

He yanked you through the door to the garage, shoving you forwards a little as the door clicked shut and the lock twisted. 

Everything inside you told you to give him a piece of your mind, spinning on your heel, your cheeks hot with disbelief. 

But as he stepped towards you, his eyes trained on your shaking form, you felt warmth flood your groin and you were putty once again. You hated how easily he reduced you to a desperate mess of a girl. Truly, you did. 

The fact remained, your Boyfriend was the other side of the wall and your Mother was floating around the house fussing like a woman possessed. 

“How dare—”

Bucky’s hand gripped your throat in warning, wedding ring digging against the supple flesh of your neck - the fire in his beautiful eyes causing your pussy to clench around nothing.

Shoved up against the passenger side of Peter’s car, you lifted your chin in defiance, a slight smirk gracing your glossy lips as you soaked in his fury. 

“You tryna piss Daddy off, Princess? ‘Cause you’re doin’ a real good job.” 

Your fingers dragged up your bare thighs, lifting your skirt up higher, his thigh pressed firmly against your lace covered cunt. 

“What’sa matter, Daddy? You jealous?” The low growl that emitted from his throat made you shudder, his breath warming your face as he tilted your chin up roughly with his fingers. “You not enjoying getting a taste of your own medicine, Daddy? Is that it?”

“You fuck that kid? Huh?” The hand around your throat squeezed, thumb pushing against your pulse point, his lips inches from yours. “You better answer me or I swear to fuckin’ God, girl...”

One hand palming at the throbbing erection in his trousers, the other gripping his own as it shook against your throat, you smiled. And he looked like he wanted to fucking murder you. 

“So what if I did? Seems fair to me. At least you don’t have to listen to me screaming his name. And Daddy, he makes me scream.” 

You ignored the fear bubbling in your chest, your bratty mouth unable to stop itself from running merry hell. 

“He’s so big, Daddy. Stretches me out so good.” Bucky pulled you towards him then, teeth clenched and jaw ticking, on the edge of losing every bit of control. And you just couldn’t help yourself. “You should see it.”

The dark chuckle that fell from his lips held no humor, his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek and his head cocked to the side. 

“Is that what this is, Princess? Fuck, that jealousy’s just eatin’ you up, huh? Poor baby…” 

Your confidence waned for a moment, whimpering pathetically as his thumb traced your trembling jaw. You couldn’t stop yourself, hips winding down against his thick thigh, a twinkle in his eye as he watched you with a faux pout etched on his lips. 

“If you weren’t so fuckin’ cute, it’d be pathetic. Lookit you; grindin’ down on Daddy’s leg like a bitch in heat. What would Peter say, hmm?”  

Shame swam deep in your gut, but it was nothing compared to the warmth spreading between your legs, the damp patch on your panties staining the material of his suit pants.

“Daddy—” 

His fingers nestled between your lips, pressing down on your tongue as they slid down your throat - gag reflex kicking in when the tips of his fingers found your tonsils. 

“Suck.” 

You did as he asked, eyes boring into his as he thrust his fingers back and forth between your lips, garbled moans vibrating in your throat, spit coating the platinum band on his ring finger. 

“Why do I always gotta remind you who you belong to, huh?” You couldn’t answer, mouth stuffed full, tears pooling in your eyes, and spittle dripping from the corners of your mouth. “You think I was just gonna make nice with your little boyfriend in there? Bet he doesn’t know what a dirty little cockslut you really are does he?” 

A sharp tap to your cheek, spit slick against your skin, had you quivering. Yet your hands found the collar of his shirt, gripping it tightly and yanking him down towards you. Your lips crashed against his then, a satisfied grunt vibrating against your mouth, one hand gripping your ass while the other dove between your legs. 

Bucky held you tight against his chest, fingers dipping beneath the gusset of your panties and swiping through your sloppy folds as he walked you clumsily round to the hood of Peter’s car - lifting you effortlessly and setting you down, cool metal causing you to shudder from the chill. 

You watched as he yanked your panties down your legs, your heart pounding at the thought of your Mother and your Boyfriend next door, waiting for you to return.

“I can’t trust you to be a good girl, can I? Can’t trust you to keep those fuckin’ legs shut.” 

“Daddy, I-” 

“You’re gonna shut your fuckin’ mouth and take it, you got that Princess?” 

Before you could open your mouth to answer, he’d balled your damp panties in his fist and forced them between your lips — teeth clenching down onto the salty-sweet lace. 

It was humiliating, degrading; but when was it not? You craved it, the way he treated you. That feeling of being owned, completely surrendering yourself to another person. He made you need that.  

“Look at that, always so wet for Daddy.” 

His palms splayed out against the flesh of your thighs, he pushed them apart, spreading you open and putting you on display just for him. 

Your heart was racing, the thrill of being caught at any moment thumping adrenaline through your veins. He could sense it, lips twitching into a satisfied smirk as he watched your eyes flit frantically back and forth between him and the door. 

“D’you have any idea how much I wanna drag you back in there and fuck you on that table. Make them both watch, show them that you’re mine?”

Your moans muffled by the material stuffed between your teeth, two thick fingers stretching out your cunt as he unbuckled his pants — you shook your head. 

You knew you had an effect on him, you knew he couldn’t stop himself from touching you, from creeping into your room late at night. But the way he looked at you now, the burning intensity in his eyes; it shook you to your core. 

“If I had the time Princess, I’d eat that slutty little pussy right here. Make you gush all over Petey Boy’s car. He make you come as hard as Daddy does?” 

Frantically, you shook your head from side to side. Peter had never even so much as grabbed your ass, but you’d riled Bucky up to the point of insanity. A man on a mission to prove just who you belonged to. 

“No? You've sure changed your tune.” 

You watched as he pumped his thick cock in his palm, the tip of him nudging against your clit, your pussy twitching. 

“Daddy’s gonna fuck the attitude right outta you, so stay quiet and keep those legs open for me.” 

Your arms hooked beneath your knees, thighs spread wide, you barely had time to brace yourself before his cock split you open inch by inch. 

You’d expected him to rut into you with excruciating force, to take you roughly. So when he thrust into you with slow, patient strokes; you could do nothing to hide the curiosity on your face. 

“I know you know who fucks you the best. You just love riling Daddy up, don’t you? Get so - fuck - goddamn jealous of Mommy.” 

Your head lulled back as his dick dragged against the throbbing walls of your cunt, his thumb finding your clit while he caressed your breasts with his free hand. 

It was too much, too much tenderness, too good. 

You hated yourself for wanting it. The new sensation of his knuckles softly grazing the hollow of your throat as he undulated his hips against your pelvis, hitting spots inside of you you didn’t even know existed. 

“You know what you do to me, Baby? Look at me.” 

Baby. 

Bucky leant forward then, elbows either side of your head on the hood, balls deep inside you as he ground his hips into yours at a torturously slow pace. 

“I got you all spread open wide for me, and my fuckin’ wife is right next door. She could walk in here right now and fuck, I still wouldn’t stop. You know how fucked up that is?” 

It was nonsense, the broken words falling from your panty stuffed mouth, heat rising in your belly when he pulled out completely and slid on home once again. 

He fit you perfectly; there was no doubt about it. The way your cunt wrapped around his dick, it was fucking sinful how perfect it felt. Sparks of pleasure shooting through your core as he rubbed tiny, delicate circles over your swollen clit. 

“Tell me how much you want me.” Bucky ripped the panties from your mouth, shoving them in his pocket as you licked your dried out lips. “Need’ta hear you say it. Come on, Princess.” 

You’d never seen it before, the needy side of him, the way he practically whimpered when your pussy clenched around his girth, his hand gently squeezing your thigh while the other tentatively worked your sensitive nub. 

You tried to speak, tried to find the words he so desperately needed to hear — mouth hanging open in sheer confusion. 

“You’re not coming until you tell me, and we’ve been gone a while…” 

He halted inside you, only the tip of him nestled between your pussy lips, thumb hovering over your clit and a soft, yet entirely serious look gracing his gorgeous face. 

“I—I want you, Daddy.” You yielded, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Your hand flew to your mouth, muffling the yelp as he slammed back into you in one brutal motion — slowly withdrawing and circling your clit with the tip of his dick. 

“Again.”

“I want you, Daddy.” Insistent this time, no tremble in your voice, hips winding down towards his length, eager to have him back where he belonged. “Only want you, Daddy.” 

There was no hint of a lie in your tone, and as he fucked you - possessive and hungry - you wondered how any other man could ever match him. 

Sprawled out on the hood of Peter’s car, legs hooked over Bucky’s shoulders, you begged and panted; nearing closer and closer to sweet release. 

“You do, don’t you? You belong to me, Princess. Daddy’s all the man - shit - you need.” 

Garbled words choked in your throat, the breath punched from your lungs when he pinched your clit roughly with his fingertips, stars dancing behind your eyelids as pleasure twisted in your abdomen, limbs shaking and numb. 

Pathetic whispers of daddy, daddy, daddy had him slamming into you, unforgiving and merciless while he chased his own orgasm. 

“Fuck lookit you, fallin’ apart on poor Parker’s car, cunt full’a Daddy. Wanna fill you up so bad Princess, but I’ve got a better idea.”

You felt the hollow emptiness of his withdrawal, hazy eyes flickering open to catch sight of him; teeth bared, fist furiously pumping his cock, white, hot spurts of come smattering against the already sopping flesh of your swollen, fucked-out pussy lips. 

“Bucky! Darling, where are you?”

You panicked, hopping down off the hood and scrambling to push your skirt back down your aching thighs. 

“Fuck, gimme my underwear.” You hissed, holding out your hand as you bounced on your heels. 

“Nuh uh, Princess. You’re gonna sit there all night next to Peter, who seems like a real nice kid by the way, with my come all over you. Be real hard to forget who’s little cockwhore you are then, won’t it?”

You watched, dumb struck as he casually tucked himself back into his pants, swiping the wine bottle from the counter and making his way to the door. 

“Hurry now, we’ve kept our guest waiting long enough don’t you think?” 

With a wink and a sardonic smirk, Bucky disappeared through the door, your Mom’s soft laughter ringing in your ears through the wood. 

Dinner was surprisingly a lot less awkward than you expected, aside from the jabs from Bucky thrown in your direction every now and again. But you’d much rather he targeted you than Peter. 

Sitting with Bucky’s come smothered between your thighs made the guilt in your gut throb every time Peter’s soft fingers found the bare flesh of your knee beneath the table. 

No matter how much water you chugged, your mouth was dry throughout, your instincts driving you to get through the meal without choking and needing to excuse yourself.

As the evening drew to a close, your Mother tipsy and insisting that Peter come back to visit again the following week, you couldn’t wait to get him out of there and wipe away the mess from between your legs. 

“Parker, you ever play golf?” Bucky asked as Peter pulled on his jacket. 

You couldn’t believe the audacity of him, shame and fury eating at you as he played the perfect, welcoming parent.

“Uh, a little from time to time.” He answered, looking down at you with a proud smile as he sensed an invitation coming. It killed you, the sweetness on his features. You didn’t deserve an ounce of it. 

“I’ll get your address from our girl, huh? Pick you up Saturday, say, just after lunch?” 

Our girl. 

It made you cringe, chewing on your bottom lip as you took hold of Peter’s hand and led him to the garage where you’d been full of your Stepdad’s cock just an hour earlier. 

“Yes, that’d be great Mr Barnes. Thank you!” 

“Please, call me Bucky.” 

You couldn’t stand it any longer, making your way to the garage while Peter trailed behind you saying his goodbye’s.

He kissed you softly, and it made you want to weep—the way his hands cupped your cheeks, his thumbs stroking against the corners of your mouth. When he pulled away, the look of adoration on his face had your heart skipping a beat. 

This was what you needed.

This relationship was healthy. Safe. Right. 

So why did it feel so wrong? 

What you had with Bucky could never go anywhere, would never progress to more than secretive fucks and risky situations. 

“Your Stepdad seems like a decent guy, but he’s really hard on you huh?” 

“You have no idea.” 

[photosynthefish-12]

She hadn’t thought the shuttle would be this empty - just two other passengers, both human. “Wolf Paradise” as it translated was a fairly unpopular system, having little of interest aside from its binary star system and pastel banded clouds. The planet itself was uninhabitable and helium mining was prohibited by one of the treaties protecting primitive life (some sort of floating bacteria-analog, she’d read). Still, she’d heard enough about human tourism to expect more visitors to the slowly growing habitat orbiting Wolf Paradise.

She wasn’t sure whether to be more or less nervous that her first time meeting humans was almost one-on-one, allowing her to get a close look at the deathworlders. They both arrived earlier than she did, waiting patiently in not-quite-opposite seats for the shuttle to launch. They were both still, staring distantly at the opposite walls. Rather disappointing, she supposed, compared to the horror stories about human boredom.

She stowed her luggage just in time for the pilot to announce their departure, and settled into a seat. It would be a long flight, but she liked watching people. Almost immediately after the announcement, one of the humans closed their eyes and leaned their head back against the wall, a low sound like a musical purr emerging from their throat.

After a few minutes the other started to move - drumming their fingers in a simple wave, then tapping out a steady beat with their foot, and suddenly bursting into a complicated cadence with both hands. Her gill-slits flared with surprise at the sudden, almost violent motion. The other human lazily opened their eyes to watch for a bit, so she settled back down.

The human’s drumming was almost hypnotic - a steady but continually changing rhythm that took advantage of everything within reach. Their foot kept a steady time, and their hands tapped precisely against their legs, the seat, each other, and their legs again. She noticed that the human’s whole body moved in time - head nodding subtly, even breathing with the beat.

“Are you a percussionist?” the other human asked, waiting for a pause in the pattern.

The drummer stopped, visibly shifting focus to the other human. “Only for a year when I was in high school, why?”

“Every percussionist I’ve ever met has done that, but very few people who aren’t do it.”

The drummer seemed to consider for a moment. “I guess when it’s banging two things together you’re never not able to make music. It’s like my hands itch for it when I’m bored.”

“That’s something pretty human, I think.” said the other, flashing me a grin. “Making music just because you can. I think this trip could do with a bit more music. Tell me, do you know any space shanties?”

The other human sang. The drummer’s rhythm gave strength to the melody, and the singer built off their rhythm. She was reasonably sure the two were strangers, but they wove the song as one. It seemed almost a tangible thing, music clinging to the skin of the ship and leaking out into the cold void of space. 

Now she knew why so many of the guides to humans referenced the myth of the siren - the power in the simple song of two strangers made even her want to join in. She settled for watching and listening as the humans wove music together for hours - just because they could.

[just-here-for-the-moment]

CONGRATULATIONS ON 300 LOVE💚💚💚 You deserve it and more because you are TALENTED and SO SWEET and everything you do is just 👨‍🍳🤌

I took the chance to spin your wheel… and first spin I got was Mando with a lactation kink… I KNOW this man loves kids and wants a big family so I can’t wait to see what you come up with!!!! All the love!

Woooo!!! This broke me. I was really going for XTRA FILTHY SMUT but that did not happen. This one surprised me when I wrote it by sneaking up all soft and sweet, and then ending that way too. That's okay, though, I like a good soft smut.

Hope you enjoy!!! :D

Word Count: 2030+

Rating: Explicit/mature, 18+ only

Outline: Din Djarin x “You”/Din’s wife (cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: starts soft, ends soft; Din has a filthy mouth; praise kink (use of “good girl”); lactation kink; unprotected P/V sex in the context of marriage; sprinkling of breeding kink

Evenings and nights were always your favorite with your husband. It was the best time of the day, everyone settled down and quiet, the ship docked for the night wherever you were visiting or set to autopilot to the next destination. You knew your husband’s moods, the slight slump of his shoulders telling you that he was getting drowsy, ready to head below decks and rest, curled up in your arms.

You nursed your son, putting him down before heading up to the cockpit to knit for a bit and watch the stars race by. After an hour of that, you saw the telltale signs and knew that Din was done for the day, even if he didn’t know it himself. He pushed himself too hard, always believing that there was more of him to go around than there was.

Now that the baby was here, growing healthy and strong, Din had resumed his habit of staying up too late, tweaking just one more thing in the cockpit or looking over the available jobs just one more time. He had spent too many nights slumped sleeping in that pilot’s chair, and you had finally started being gently pushy, in the hopes of getting the man to just stop and rest.

You waited until you saw the helmet keel an inch too far to the right, knowing how heavy it felt on his head, his old habit of wearing full armor at all times in the cockpit in case things went sideways and he had to spring into action. You didn’t push him to relax or remove it, you knew how much he needed that feeling of being in control. But you could be sweet and soft, remind him how much you needed him at the end of the day, how good it would feel to finally remove the Beskar and curl up against you, skin to skin for the night.

“Din,” you made your voice soft. “It’s bedtime.”

His helmet tilted back to center and you heard him clear his throat. “Just one more thing, mesh’la.”

You smiled to yourself and finished off your row of stitches, giving him a few more minutes, tweaking knobs and fiddling with buttons. You got up and stretched, then came around to his side, placing one hand on the back of his neck with a gentle squeeze.

“Let’s go. You need your rest, or you’ll be no good to anyone tomorrow.”

Din lifted one hand to grip your waist affectionately. You could visualize the fight happening on his face, the urge to take care of just one more item battling against the pull of your soft curves in the dark. You leaned in, letting his helmet come to rest against your side.

“Let me take you to bed, you big, strong man.” Your voice was soft, your nails softer as you slipped them just under the cowl and dragged them across the back of his neck.

Din sighed and then set the ship to autopilot before he removed his helmet. His eyes were rimmed with hints of red, the circles underneath deeper than they had been yesterday. Your heart squeezed, and you immediately took the helmet to set it gently on the floor. You kneeled in front of his chair and didn’t say a word as you started to help him remove his gloves, then all of the parts of his armor that you could reach. For his part, Din let you worry your fingers over him. Then he stood up and took off his back plates and cape, piling everything neatly on the ground.

“Sit.” You left no room for argument, and Din complied. You muttered gently to yourself as you reached down to help him remove his boots, “Kriffing crazy man, pushing yourself so hard…”

Din let you undress him, let you massage your fingers up his calves and across his quads, and that told you more than anything how tired he really was. Normally he would at least protest, say that he didn’t need the help, but this quiet acquiescence was worrisome. Still, though, you knew how to relax him, get him to stop. You weren’t above using your feminine wiles to bend him to your will, all in the service of getting him to rest.

When he was finally down to his flight suit, you opened the front of it and peeled it down and off his shoulders, and then straddled his lap in the pilot’s chair. You started by skating your nails over his shoulders. Din closed his eyes as a shiver ran through his body. He nearly moaned, a soft “Ohhh…” floating out into the quiet of the cockpit.

You gently pushed his forehead so that he could lean his head back on the headrest, and increased the pressure of your fingers as you rubbed circles into the knots of his biceps and trapezius muscles. Din let his hands rest on your thighs as you worked him over, and by the end of it, he was putty in your hands. You finished by laying a soft kiss to his velvet lips, and you were surprised when he kissed back and wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you tight.

“Sweet man, I thought you were tired?” You smiled as he brought his eyes to rest on your face.

“No, mesh’la. I think I just got a second wind.” Din raised an eyebrow at you, and you giggled as you felt him twitch hard underneath your crotch.

“No, you need to rest, my husband. You’re awfully tired.”

Din groaned as he buried his face against your sternum, grinding up against your through your clothing. You threaded your fingers through his curls and scraped your nails from his ears down to his neck, pulling a moan from deep in his throat.

“But I need to have you, just like this.” Din brought his hands up to untie the laces of your wrap dress, sliding his thick fingers under the fabric as it fell open. “Please? Can I taste your milk? You know I love to taste you, mesh’la.” He placed hot, open-mouthed kisses to the swell of your breasts. You felt a thrill run through your body, finding it harder and harder to be stern with him.

“No, Din, you really need-” You gasped as he cupped your breast with one big hand and brought his mouth to the nipple. “You need…” But for the life of you, you couldn’t remember the next part of your orders. You let your dress slide down your arms and off your shoulders, pooling on the floor of the cockpit. Your panties were damp, and Din’s strong arm wrapped around you, holding you firmly in place.

“I know what I need, my sweet wife. I need you.” Din dove back to your breast with his hungry mouth, swirling the nipple with his tongue as his erection grew and pressed harder against your clothed cunt. You felt your milk prickling behind your areolas, knowing that if Din applied any suction, you would start leaking from both breasts, and then you would entirely lose control of this mission to get him to bed.

“No, Din, bed-” but he cut you off with a growl, something primal and low that rumbled from deep in his chest and took your breath away as he gripped you closer, teeth scraping against your budded nipple.

Din began to suckle, and you threw your head back with a gasp, clinging tightly to his shoulders as the muscles flexed under your touch. He was quiet but greedy, sucking at one side before moving to the other. The feel of your milk letting down made you moan, and giving in was just too easy, too sweet to resist. You let your husband take what he wanted, what he needed from you. There would be plenty for the baby still.

“You taste like the stars, sweet girl.” Din’s voice was a hoarse whisper in between his lapping, and his praises made you wetter. “You taste like honey and sunshine like this.”

“Diiinn…” Your head was fuzzy, wiped clean of everything except desire. “Din, please…”

You weren’t even sure what you were asking for, but Din took charge, lifting you half out of his lap so that he could free his cock, before hooking one thick finger and pulling your panties to the side. He swept the head of his penis back and forth against your slick folds and then thrust up inside, settling you back on his lap with his arm wrapped tight around your lower back.

“My wife, my girl,” he growled into your mouth as he worked you against him. You braced your feet as best you could, but Din was determined to do things his way. You let him pull and release you with that iron grip, canting your hips back and forth as he rocked you on his length. He ducked his head back down and lapped at you again and again.

All you could manage was a breathy, “Ohhh,” as he kept thrusting up into you at a steady pace. You grasped at his shoulders, his hair, anywhere you could find a purchase to steady yourself.

“My wife has the sweetest tits in the whole galaxy. Such a good girl, letting me fuck her like this.” Din’s eyes sparkled as he looked up at you. “Want me to fuck another warrior into you, mesh’la? Another baby?”

“Yes, oh!” You felt your climax start to unfurl, every nerve tingling as his cock rubbed against your clit from this angle.

Din suckled you again and again, pausing only to growl praises and promises up into your mouth.

“You’d like that? You want me to fill you up again? I’ll keep you pregnant all the time, full of milk for me and our babies.” His arm wrapped tighter around your waist as he fucked up inside of you harder. “Keep your tits full? Keep you dripping sweet milk, all for me?”

You nodded and kissed him. “Yes, please- yes, yes. Fill me up, Din. I want you to.”

“Come for me first, sweet girl.” Din cupped his free hand under your knee and lifted your leg high and open. “Touch yourself. I want my wife to come around my cock.”

Your hand flew down inside your panties to touch your clit, rubbing and pressing it in circles, trying desperately to follow his wishes. Finally you felt the finish coming. You gasped out to him as you came and Din kept his eyes pinned on your face as you cried out. Your cunt squeezed and milked his cock as he began to spurt his own release deep inside. Din let go of your leg, and both arms wrapped your waist in a vise grip as he ground himself into you and climaxed.

When you were both spent, Din brought both hands to cup your breasts, licking the last of your milk from the swollen nipples.

Din’s “Hmmmm…” reverberated through his lips, the deepest and most satisfied sound you could imagine. You felt him hot inside of you, and you were reluctant to lift yourself off his lap. He softened inside of you bit by bit as he licked your nipples, squeezing both breasts until he was satisfied that he had gotten every last drop.

You draped your arms around the back of Din’s neck and let his cheek rest against your breast, curling your fingers gently in the back of his hair and feeling him finally soften fully.

“Will you sleep well, my husband?” You gently teased him, a soft smile on your lips as you looked down at him and stroked his face.

Din looked up at you from under his lashes, and your heart ached at how peaceful his big brown eyes were, how comforted he looked there in your arms. You wanted him to look like that forever. You wished you could somehow wipe all worry and strain from his life. But maybe this was the best you could do for your husband, just comfort him and give him solace when he needed it most.

Din closed his eyes and breathed deeply, and you let him rest there a while longer.

---

Din Djarin/Mando character masterlist

Main masterlist

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[venenatd]

last meal; jean kirstein x reader

summary: you and jean are in a relationship, and finally get some private time for a cute picnic date the day before he goes on the mission to marley. it’s v cute but also ur both horny!

content: smut / nsfw 18+. minors dni. (public/outdoors sex, dracylphilya, size kink, fingering, thigh riding, use of “good girl/baby”, praise kink, female bodied reader, unprotected sex, creampie) some fluff for good measure.

i am new to this pls let me know if i should add anything!!

word count: 3.3k words of unedited content

a/n: i saw a cottage core inspired jean post and this idea immediately popped into my head. i also kept thinking back to the sunset blush scene and it felt destined lmao. i thought it was gonna be shorter but i guess i get carried away lol. pls feel free to send me requests or ideas or give any advice on what you liked!! thanku!<3

Everything is painted with gold. The sun hanging low in the sky, despite the late hour, still warms your skin. You and Jean walk away from the Scout Headquarters, warmth of the evening allowing you to roam without coats. 

He’s in a tight cream shirt, braces holding up darker toned pants. A simple hat sits on his head, shading his eyes from the setting sun. You, a simple sage dress, loose and flowing around your legs. The long grass tickles your flesh, and the two of you laugh as you try running through the field, lifting your limbs stupidly high to jump over the pasture. 

Jean snorts at you, watching you flap around. The orange hue of dusk makes your hair shine, your skin glow beautifully. And as you look up at him, a wide and goofy smile spreading across your face, he can see all the flecks and details of varying colours in your eyes. And it takes his breath away. 

It was the last night before the end. He’s not sure of what, but it feels like the next chapter is to be finished when he closes his eyes tonight. Tomorrow he goes to Marley. Hange ordered all of their team to go relax for the final day at home. “We’ve gone over the plans enough, we know every angle! Go! Shoo!”

Hange was right. Going in and getting Eren home. It was engrained in Jeans brain. The scouts knew everything they were going to before they arrived. So tonight, it’s all about you.

You, with your skirt floating around you as you weave between trees, making your way to the clearing the two of you know so well. It’s where he first admitted feelings, where you first kissed. The others don’t know (or so you both think), and until he’s safe from his last mission, you’re not sure the two of you will ever reveal your affiliation. 

Pulling a blanket from the picnic basket you’ve brought with you, Jean lays it down on the ground. There’s a wide pond in front of you both, some ducks still paddling about. A thin haze floats over the water, the last of the summer heat still encouraging dragonflies and water skippers out. 

The light snacks you’d managed to sneak out from your job in the kitchen were delicious. You’d whipped up some light pastries and desserts from leftover ingredients. Even some strawberries and grapes. Whilst everything was miniscule from lack of provisions, it tasted good enough. 

Dipping the sweet red fruit from the cream and sugar and between your lips, Jean is in heaven. Your hair being pushed by the wind away from your face, the rosiness on your cheeks. The world may end tomorrow, but tonight he’s got all he needs.

His hands reach over, noticing the drip of cream collecting on the corner of your lips. Swiping his thumb along your cheek, he notes “you’ve got a lil..”

Jean looks at you, his eyes locking on yours, still gently cupping your face in his hands. Warm pupils flick down. His brows scrunch together for a moment, before he moves forward. His other hand comes up to your face, and he is so gentle when he kisses you. It’s as if he may break you if he goes too far.

The soft plush of his lips on yours, slowly pulling you in is intoxicating. He leans back on his forearms, pulling you over him, not letting you leave his mouth. You knock into his hat, it flopping off behind him as you lower your chest over his.

A hand reaches to his chestnut hair. It’s grown long over the last few years. You play with tendrils, the two of you lazily kissing. It’s soft and easy. You’re breathing into one another your chest resting on his as you move a leg to intertwine with his. 

Shifting yourself slightly, you rest directly above his thigh. Jeans hand comes to the back of your neck, making sure you don’t split the contact he so desperately needs. Your nails slide softly against his scalp, twisting into his hair with more want. 

The man, your man, underneath you curls forward, leg lifting and chest pushing up into you. Your crotch bumps against his thigh. A delightful little gasp erupts from you. If Jean wasn’t tongue deep in your mouth he could have even missed it. But he is, and he didn’t. 

He’s tempted to see how far he can take this, maybe make another first here. You’ve had sex, and plenty of it. Although for the most part it’s been rushed, the nature of your jobs only allowing for quickies. You both lived in shared rooms, and the lack of privacy was definitely a roadblock in his attempts to please you.

This clearing, in the outside meadows by headquarters, is maybe an ironic place for the privacy you both so need. Putting any doubt out of his mind, Jean lifts his muscular thigh, achieving another gasp into his mouth from you. You grind against it slowly, tentatively.

“No need to be shy, baby girl” he smiles into the kiss.

Cheeks rosy, you roll your hips along his leg. Jeans body rises further, leaning back casually on one hand, the other gripping the flesh between your waist and hip. He breaks the kiss that has been going on so long, wanting to take in all the ways your face displays pleasure. 

Your eyebrows knit together slightly. Your lips are wet with saliva, slightly parted as you give off little mewls each time your clothed cunt is brushed along his cotton pants. 

There’s a sweet and tender feeling building in your lower stomach. You can feel how wet you’re getting, the slow and methodical undulations generating a heat between your thighs. 

“Jean, plea-”

“You want more?” he’s quick to answer. Your head jumps and up and down, past the point of playing shy. 

His long fingers meet with your jaw once more, lightly skimming your features. He’s noting it all down in his head. Maybe he’ll even make a drawing of you. You pause in your ministrations, and a low tutting comes from the man. “No, no. Keep riding. Get yourself ready.” 

A delicious smile emerges on your face, and you bear down on his thigh. You take your hands on each leg, gripping onto the thickly built muscle underneath the cloth. A couple of fingers miss their mark, and you can feel how hard Jean is getting. Eyes flash between his crotch and his face, and he can sense how eager you are to please him. 

His touch moves from your jaw down, one finger slowly running along the centre of your throat. Jeans hand dips, slowly dragging his fingernails across each collar bone, down to the valley of your chest. Your breath hitches, and he moves away again. You shift your hand in response, moving it towards the joint between his thigh and pelvis, allowing your fingers to brush his clothed balls.

Wherever his fingers move leaves a tingling in their wake. They push towards your shoulder, teasing the fabric from each one. Your dress pools a little, allowing him to make his way back, this time taking your breast in his hand. Thumb brushes against your puffy buds, and a finger meets it to squeeze lightly.

Jean fully lifts off the blanket, sat up straight. He makes quick work of your dress, pulling it down and pushing it up. He grabs at your legs, going between light caresses and tight grasps, not knowing which to settle with. Finally he finds purchase in your ass, guiding you back and forth over his thigh.

You moan into his mouth, fully succumbing to the wetness surely dampening through your panties, the feeling of his fingers twisting and teasing your pert nipples. He raises his fingers from your chest, using his thumb on your lower lip to apply gentle pressure. 

Breaking the trail of saliva that connects you both, he pushes an index finger between your lips. You’re all too eager to suck on it, eyes looking dutifully at him. He inhales sharply between his teeth. His cock is so hard, so desperate to fuck into you. Jean wants it to be slow and beautiful, but he simply needs to have you. He wants you close to him before he leaves and doesn’t know if he’ll come back. And close means being inside you, hearing you in your purest form. 

The dusky pink settling on his cheeks could be the sun, low in the sky, filling the meadow with rich hues. 

Your moans could not be interpreted so wholesomely.

Fingers wet with your spit, he moves his hand between your legs, under the skirt. Pushing your panties to the side he lets you ride his palm for a moment. Teasing yourself, teasing your clit on his strong hand. He goes deeper, fingers sliding through your folds. He slips through your folds, resting at your entrance, before allowing your hips to rise and him to push knuckle deep inside you.

You reddened lips form a perfect ‘o’, and the bliss on your face is one he will remember forever. His thumb moves to your clit. Still on top of him, Jean watches you fuck yourself on his fingers. He kisses your neck, your chest. Taking your nipples and sucking, biting, nibbling. 

Your walls are closing in on him, before gently relaxing and he can tell you’re close. 

“Don’t be shy” Jean reissues his earlier statement. But now it’s far huskier, far more commanding. “I want to hear you, y/n. I want to hear you cum.” 

You’re watching his face, the words - orders - tumble from his lips. They make you flutter around his fingers. You murmur out tiny please’s. 

“What did I say? Louder, y/n.”

You moan against his neck, “please.”

Jean pulls your hair, making you extend your neck, forcing you to look up to the hues of pink and orange. “Louder.”

You’re so close. “Jean, p- please!” 

“Good girl.”

With that he’s flicking his thumb over your clit, fucking his fingers up into your cunt. The sounds of liquid and wetness only add to the noises of you cumming. Pussy clenching around his fingers, hips giving way and as your legs start to burn and shake. Jean holds you up, working you through your orgasm. He wants nothing more than to watch you fall apart, moaning his name. And then whining curses as you become oversensitive. Yet your gummy walls still suck him in, begging for more.

Leaving your tight walls, he brings the fingers to his lips. You taste tarte and sweet. Better than strawberries any day.

Your breaths are heavy as he twists the two of you, resting you with your back on the blanket. You are radiant. A green halo of grass above you, the dusting of pink on your cheeks, your lips kiss-swollen.

Jean pushes your skirt up, eyes trained on yours as you rest on your elbows. Your eyes follow his movements. How his tongue wets his lips before he drags them on your inner thigh. How his fingers dig in to pull you closer towards him. 

He pulls off your sodden panties, kissing into your hips, your belly. Jean is slow and deliberate. As much as he wants to be deep within you, he’s never had the chance to enjoy you this slowly before. 

He rises, kissing your breasts as they spill from the top of your dress. His tongue paints saliva on your lips before slipping between them. The kiss is intense. It’s deep and sloppy and so needy. 

Your hand reaches to his shoulders, thumb slipping underneath his braces pulling them off. Hands slip under his shirt, and he quickly helps you pull it off. His muscles are firm and taught, the amount of work his body has been through over the years evident underneath your fingers. You trail fingertips over stripes of knotted flesh, kissing each mark and scar after your hands move onto the next one. 

“You’re beautiful, Jean”

Jeans cheeks go rosy and he smiles so bashfully that it breaks you apart. The lopsided grin makes you pull him back into you, teeth bumping together as you giggle into the kiss. 

He unbuttons his pants, pushing them far enough down his thighs to allow more friction as he grinds into you. Jean is noticeably straining his underwear, his member long and hard. You move your hand down to cup him, squeezing gently through the cotton. You tug on his cock, leaving him stuttering into your mouth. Holding him just tightly enough, he ruts his hips into your hand, little sighs escaping his mouth into your hair. 

Tucking your hand under the fabric, you pull out his dick. It makes your hand look smaller, Jean’s member long and hard. The pink tip is slick with precum, and your thumb brushes his head slightly, earning a little hiss. 

You go from light little touches to harsher ones. Fingers brushing against the veins on his length, before you wrap around him again. He’s whining in your ear, “you like playing with my cock? Seeing what you do to me?” 

With hooded eyelids you look at his contorting face and whisper “yes, yes. I want to please you, I want to make you feel good.” 

“Such a good girl for me.”

Taking his member, you push the tip against the heat between your legs. Teasing your clit with his head, he looks down to watch you work. Precum lightly sheens over your folds, and fuck, Jean can’t wait to add to it. 

“I w-want you so bad Jean.” 

“You have all of me.” 

You hold him against your entrance, the tip of him just resting at your little hole. Pulling him in a little, he pushes against the first tight ring. It’s always intense letting Jean fuck you, making you so full. You rock your hips up, letting him slip out a little, before grinding back down. It pulls him into you so sensually. He moans unashamedly as you control the pleasure you both receive. 

Repeating the action, you lift again, pushing him out, and again tightening your stomach muscles to curl and bring him deeper inside you. His golden eyes are trained on where you’re conjoined. 

He’s halfway inside you, stretching your tight walls so much already. Jean sits back, moving his tongue around inside his mouth before letting a ball of spit fall where his cock rests inside of you. Spreading it on his length, he helps you the rest of the way. Letting your eyes widen and gasp of surprise (how are you always surprised by the feeling?) as he fully sheaths himself inside you. 

“God, you’re so tight,” he holds himself above you, head falling back as he inhales slowly.

Jean allows you a moment to breath, before he pulls back out, quickly snapping his hips back to yours. Moans tumble out of your mouth as he fucks into you. Lashes fluttering and your tits bouncing in rhythm, you are a sight for the sorest of eyes.

“You’re so pretty for me, all splayed out on my cock.” 

He pushes your legs apart, watching his length disappear inside you. Watching how one hand twists your own nipple, the other feebly trying to grab onto his wrist. He’s splitting you apart on his dick, the feeling of being so fucking full taking over. You were already sensitive from your last orgasm, but he builds another, the tightening in your core unmistakable. 

“J- Jean,” you hiccup, so overwhelmed by him. “You’re s- so big” 

“You’re taking me so well, y/n.” 

He lowers himself against your chest, bringing his knees upwards and closer to your ass. You curl up around him, holding your legs further up. Jean quickly renegotiates the position, pulling your legs around him whilst you hold under your knees. You can feel him so deep inside you this way, pulled into a ball underneath him. Jean wants to be impossibly close, and this new angle is punishing on your pussy. He can feel how wet you are between you, how much you enjoy the intensity of his cock working in and out. 

His forehead presses against yours, his hand snaking between you two. From his new angle, he can hit that sweet spot inside you so easily. His length sweeps against it, and hits into your furthest wall. He lets out curses as he feels your cunt tighten each time, mixing with the moans and mewls from you. You lock eyes with him, big doe eyes pricking. 

“Pl- please, I’m so close, Jean.”

Fat tears roll over your cheek, trailing to your temple. Everything feels too much. Him inside of you, the wet squelching between you. His strong fingers rubbing over your clit again and again. You let out a sob, followed by a moan. It’s a combination of knowing this is the last night, feeling how fucking intense his cock is inside you, hearing how much Jean needs you. He kisses your cheeks, tasting the salt, not faltering as he continues to pummel into you. 

“You’re doing so good, baby.”

His balls slap against your skin. 

“You can do it.” 

His teeth bite at the flesh of your breast, pull at your nipples.

“I want to hear you.”

His fingers play and roll with your clit, feeling the way you tighten around his cock.

“Please cum for me, y/n.”

Your back arches off the blanket, the night sky soaking up the moans. The lewd noises in between you both are all consuming, the slap of slick and wetness only adding to your full body sensation. 

His fingers keep moving on your clit, and Jean grunts each time your pussy spasms around his cock. He keeps pace, fucking you raw and with need. He loves to see your delicate face scrunched up, eyes rolling back and mouth unable to close. 

And with the tightening of your walls around him, Jean’s close. “Where do you want me?” 

“I want,” you inhale sharply, as his cock drives back into you, “you inside me- I- I need you Jean. Please.”

“You’re so good, baby, you’re so good.” He’s getting quicker, making you writhe beneath him in your overstimulated state. “I’ll give you what you want, okay? I’m going to cum inside your pretty pussy.” 

Jeans fingers are going to bruise you. He's holding onto you so tight, never wanting to let you go. It’ll be something to remember him by. Movements are starting to stammer, the sweat evident by the sheen forming across his shoulders and face. You tuck a tendril of his honey hair behind his ear. “I love you”, you whisper amongst the moans. And with that he pushes deep enough to make you cry out, feeling the hot ropes of cum painting your walls. 

Your man rests inside you for a moment, gathering his breath as he leaves languid kisses against your breasts, your jaw, your lips. He pulls out, seeing his cum drip from your pussy. Using his fingers he pushes the white around your folds, earning a sharp his when he brushes past your clit. Finally, he brings his fingers to your lips, and you put out a delicate tongue. 

Cleaning him with your mouth, he sits back, sighing softly. How can you be this good? And you like him? Jean thinks he is the luckiest man on earth. He adjusts your dress for comfortability, before dipping next to you. Your heads are lightly touching, your hair intertwined with his. Staring up at the sky as the last colour leaves it in its inkiness, he holds you close. He presses his final kiss on your forehead. 

“I love you too.” 

[1kook]

BORN SINNER III

→ MASTERLIST

summary; Regardless of whether you are a liar or not, that didn’t make it okay for Jungkook to lie to you. warnings; virgin jungkook, timid jungkook, church boy jk, a LOT of religious themes/discussion, catholic guilt, fear of sinning, mentions of masturbation, heavy doubts, a little paranoia/fear of being outcasted, jk has a crush, confessions, making out, boob lover jk has his boobs touched, groping/petting, light praise, very brief/light choking, jk is horny like 75% of the time, positive character development <3 rating; m (18+) wc; 9.5k

banner; as always, by @jamaisjoons​ !! ty ty ty!! <3333

notes; i have to apologize for delaying this update for so long. truth is, it was difficult to write the next part bc i felt like i had trapped myself in pt2-- jk wasn't showing ANY progress & i started to really hate his character. LUCKILY, with the help of my amazing editor n wife @kigurumu​ *audience cheers* i was able to put him back on the right track towards redemption! (& even more painful angst in the future!) sadly, that means that this part doesn't include any explicit smut, you'll see why. still, I'm very proud of how much i was able to build his character in this part and i hope you enjoy it!!! lemme know what u think <3

in the future, i will try my best to make sure the chapters aren’t so spaced out. again, i am so so sorry about taking so long to update this series

He gets your text the following Tuesday morning. 

Now, Jungkook has never been one to be overly invested in his cell phone; he uses it as much as he needs to, just checks his emails, takes some photos, and sends texts when necessary. But you had set up a particularly unique ringtone for yourself the other day, had sweetly asked for his phone as he laid against your chest. His skin had felt warm and the slightest bit sweaty, his body pressed so closely against you that he couldn’t tell where he ended and you began. “Did you have fun?” you asked, fingers combing back his hair. He had hummed, eyes fluttering shut to the faint tapping of your fingers across the keyboard. If he closes his eyes, he can still remember the soft beating of your heart beneath his ear, the leg you had hooked around his waist to pull him closer. The memory makes him shiver. 

It’s a high-pitched bell sound that alerts him of your messages now, completely unlike the classic default tone he had set for everyone else. 

From the other side of his room, Jungkook immediately pauses to look at it, the lit up screen glaring back at him from its idle place on his bedside table. He always leaves it there in the mornings, beside his rosary and the picture of his family, as he gets ready for work. 

He knows exactly who it’s from— after all, that’s what you wanted when you stylized your ringtone —which is why his hand trembles in excitement as he unlocks his phone. 

[❤️]: picnic tomorrow? 🥰

[❤️]: after my last class of course

Jungkook’s first thought is that this was a date, his first one with you since he had met you. His heartbeat hammers at the thought, at the mere suggestion that the two of you would be able to spend more time together this week outside of your usual weekend… acts. Additionally, if you’re asking him on a date, then surely it means you view Jungkook as a potential suitor, just as he does you? Do you want to maybe date Jungkook? Jungkook certainly wants to date you— in fact, if he starts gathering his courage now, he might be able to properly ask you out tomorrow. 

Jungkook’s second thought is of that guilty, gross feeling that’s been gnawing at his insides for three days now, and how it was inevitably going to get worse when he saw you again. 

He had lied to you, Jungkook recalls, sinking down against his mattress, shirt half buttoned, as he stares at the screen. He had lied to your face during a critical moment, had felt that seed of doubt in his chest blossom more than ever. And not only had Jungkook lied to you, but he had lied to you about his feelings toward you. How could he ever hope to hold you close, to date you, when he couldn’t even be honest with you?

The memory of your curious gaze presents itself at the forefront of his mind, the soft sound of your laughter ringing in his ears. 

You had been so sweet to him despite his blunder, had cupped his face and kissed him on the lips when he dropped you off outside your apartment. “Not today,” you crooned, unbuckling yourself as Jungkook’s eyes trailed over your throat— ignoring your cross —and down your chest. “I have schoolwork to catch up on. But soon, okay?” Another sweet peck had left him trailing after your touch, your finger bopping the tip of his nose playfully. “Call me when you get home.”

And because he was so terribly, irrevocably smitten with you, Jungkook had done as you said and called you. He’d called you and then had whimpered against his sheets as you generously talked him through another sinful deed. You had softly sighed his name over the line, told him he was handsome and that you missed him. That you wanted him in your mouth—

And of course, he had felt… something afterwards. 

This is where his dilemma begins: Jungkook had felt something afterwards, and he’s not sure if it had been entirely good or bad. The longer Jungkook stays around you, hangs out with you, does things with you— the more he can feel parts inside of himself change. Because after the phone call, Jungkook had felt two distinct emotions within himself, both of which were up for questioning. 

First, there was that one feeling he was becoming all too familiar with, the crushing guilt that would consume him following any sexual interaction with you or himself for that matter. Why was he like this? Why did he indulge himself in such heinous pleasures when he knew, knew better than anyone, what committing such acts meant for the future of his soul? He was practically dooming himself the way he was now, but Jungkook just didn’t understand— why did something so bad feel so good?

But alongside that gnawing guilt was this tiny, weirdly pleasant satisfaction, a gratification that superseded the relief felt by an orgasm. It was this oddly serene feeling that settled over Jungkook in the moments following a climax, the soft brush of your hands through his hair, the low lilt of your voice. They made him feel like he was floating on the softest of clouds, kissed and pampered by its wispy tendrils. It made something inside of Jungkook feel different, new. Good. 

(In the back of his mind, Jungkook realizes he’s always felt that way. At the height of his pleasure, at the faintest brush of your hands against his. It was a staple of your presence, one that made Jungkook feel like he was walking on air.)

From whatever angle he looked at it, it just didn’t make sense. They were contrasting emotions; while one made him feel godawful, the other one practically made him transcend. The fact they could coincide, exist all at once, had Jungkook’s brain folding in on itself as he tried to figure out why. They kept him up the last few nights, eyes blankly staring up at his ceiling following his evening prayers. Mulling over everything he’s ever learned and been told, always circling it back to your beautiful presence in his life. 

He knows sex in itself is not bad— after all, that was how the beautiful process of life came to be —but years upon years of studying his religion, cultivating his faith, had all led him to the same conclusion: premarital sex was wrong. And for the past few weeks, well. That’s all Jungkook had been doing with you. 

It seems like every time you meet, you’re dead set on pleasuring him, turning Jungkook into a shivering, teary-eyed mess while you grinned from above. That confused him too— as far as Jungkook knew, the whole point of sex was to chase after your own pleasure, something you admittedly did not do. It was always Jungkook’s pleasure, Jungkook’s enjoyment that you wanted, covering him in languid kisses and long caresses until he was inevitably shooting his hot cum all over your lap and into your hands. 

You had told him it was okay, that he should never feel bad for enjoying himself. But, to return back to his original dilemma, he doesn’t quite know if he can trust your word. 

You’re a liar, that much Jungkook can look past his rose-tinted glasses to admit. While you may not have lied to him (or at least, Jungkook wants to believe you haven’t), the fact still stands that you are quite willing to deceive others in order to get what you want. He already knows you aren’t the biggest believer of the Church yourself, that you frequently brush off your religious duties in order to fulfill your own desires— the aforementioned sexual cravings probably the biggest one —so, quite frankly, Jungkook is untrusting of the rest of your practices. Were you lying to him, telling him all was well, just for your own benefit? Just because you wanted to drag him along on your lustful adventures? He wasn’t sure, and as much as he wanted to trust you wouldn’t, there’s a shred of doubt that plagues him. 

But still. 

Regardless of whether you are a liar or not, that didn’t make it okay for Jungkook to lie to you.

He taps his phone against his chin, brain a frenzied mess. 

If Jungkook really wanted to pursue this relationship with you, he needed to be honest with himself and with you. Did it bother him that you were so flippant with the Church, the one he himself feels so devoted to? Yes and no. Jungkook has never been one to impress his beliefs on others, and truthfully, he would not be the slightest bit bothered if you don’t believe in the same things he does. Would there be some awkwardness in your relationship? Certainly, but at least Jungkook would know the real you from the very beginning. 

But to him, posing as an avid follower when you really aren’t rubs part of him the wrong way. He’s slightly put off by that aspect of you, and justifiably felt that anyone would feel such a way if someone were to use something they love as mere leverage for their own personal gain. And to make matters worse, now that he’s been made aware, it weighs down heavily on his conscience. 

Part of Jungkook, as selfish as it may be, wishes you had never revealed your secrets to him. He may have been left in the dark a total fool, but at the very least he would have been a happy fool. Would he still feel guilt about all the sexual deeds he’s partaken in with you? Sure, but at least he would only have himself to blame. The way things are now, he’s unsure who really needs to be condemned. 

Realistically, it is Jungkook’s fault. He knows how you are and even more, he knows you would never proposition him for any such sexual deed if he told you no, if he simply denied you. But he doesn’t tell you no, and that’s the problem: Jungkook really likes you as you are now, questionable behavior be damned. He likes you when you make him cry and when you pinch his cheeks and when you snake your hand down his pants. 

He still thinks you’re amazing, gets this fluttery feeling when you look at him with that sparkling gaze of yours. Your laughter makes him smile, even if you’re not laughing at something he said, because the sound is just so comforting, warm and soothing, makes his entire body relax when you chuckle. You have this gentle touch, these delicate hands that carefully comb his hair back for him in the car sometimes, tracing the side of his face softly. Your smile makes him dizzy, makes him want to cup your face in his hands and kiss you breathless. And, of course, he can’t complain about your… other talents when he’s only been on the beneficial receiving end of said talents. That aforementioned satisfaction, as small as it may be and as difficult as it was to admit to, was something Jungkook has begun to look forward to on the occasions that you meet. 

But his inability to overlook his own beliefs and your confusing nature brings about a great strife within Jungkook. It’s the reason he hesitates outside the church after dropping you off, his car running as he glares at his steering wheel. Everything in him says to go inside and confess to his sins, relieve himself of this overwhelming sense of guilt and shame to the closest person to his Lord. 

But he’s scared. 

Scared that, despite the oath of confidentiality, word will get out. His fellow brothers in faith will hear about what he’s done and call him out for his lecherousness. But even worse, he’s scared of what will happen to you. Would Jungkook’s life be over if he were thrown out of his beloved church? As dramatic as he may be, no. But he recognized that there were different standards to which men were held in this society, that an act of desire by him would not ruin his name the same way it would you. 

And Jungkook didn’t want that. He wanted to keep you safe. Wanted you to be happy and smiling, regardless of how conflicted it made him, because he likes you. He likes you so much, despite the fact he has yet to uncover the true extent of your character. 

But the cloud of mystery is partially what intrigues him, has him pondering over your very existence instead of getting ready for work as he is now. He’s terribly enamored, thinks about you and prays for you every night. So maybe Jungkook is still the fool, because he still daydreams about you when he knows he shouldn’t. 

His phone buzzes in his hand—

[❤️]: i miss you bunny ☹️

—and his decision is made. 

Tuesday passes by in a blur and before he knows it, it’s Wednesday afternoon and you’re texting him the location of one of the parks in the city. You had told him not to worry about the food because you would bring it. Jungkook’s only job was bringing the picnic blanket, a huge checkered thing he had spent all morning rifling through three stores for. He wants to impress you, desperately so, that he’s even wearing a nicer outfit today, darker tones unlike his normal warm palette because he had heard a woman at his job say men look cooler in dark colors. 

Suffice to say, he sticks out like a sore thumb at the park, the stark black of his jeans contrasting with the vibrant green of the neatly cut grass. Jungkook has half the mind to feel self-conscious about it, but then you’re calling his name from a couple meters away and his breath leaves his lungs. 

“Hi,” you greet, the handle of your wicker basket held tightly between two hands; Jungkook rushes to relieve you of the weight. “Did you wait long?” you ask, rewarding his gentlemanly behavior with a chaste kiss against the corner of his mouth that kick-starts his heart back into action and has his face burning up. 

In all honesty, you have never dressed very modestly— not that you had to, nor that there was anything remotely wrong with that. Jungkook has spent many a mass service fighting the urge to glance down the front of your dresses and tops, ignoring the cleavage you liked to show off now and then. But apparently, what Jungkook had seen up until now was your version of dressing modestly. The dress you show up with today, an off day where there are no church ladies to impress and no unspoken dress codes to follow, makes his brain short circuit. The thin, thin, straps that hold it up giving him an all access view to the broad expanse of your shoulders and chest and collarbones and boobs—

“No!” Jungkook rushes to reassure you, fighting down the blush that threatens to travel further down his neck when you carefully straighten out the collar of his shirt for him. “I- I, um, just got here.” 

You beam at the news. “I bought cheesecake,” you tell him, looping your arm through his as you tug him along. “I hope it hasn’t melted yet!”

By the time the two of you settle at a suitable spot near the lake, the cheesecake hasn’t melted. It’s still cold and solid, tastes like heaven on Jungkook’s tongue, and you laugh when his eyes light up. You look gorgeous like this, nestled against the checkered picnic blanket with a glass bottle of sparkling water in your hand, sandals just beside the edge of the blanket. There’s the faint chime of a bicycle bell somewhere to his left and the chatter of birds as they flock over the pond. Wonderful sights that would normally take his breath away and make him marvel at their beauty, but when you smile at him so gingerly like that, all Jungkook can think about is you. 

He watches you slip a strawberry past your lips. “Tell me about yourself,” you hum, seemingly out of the blue, wiping the corner of your mouth with one careful finger. “Other than, like, church stuff,” you tease. 

As you lean forward for another one, Jungkook’s brain stutters for a moment, eyes focused on the curves of your boobs as they naturally follow the movements of your upper body until he’s dizzy. “Huh?” he says, and you snort. “Oh— me, right, yes um—“

“Your favorite color?” you suggest, tugging the skirt of your dress tighter around your legs. It’s not cold, but there’s a slight breeze that keeps rolling over the two of you, pushing your floral scent over Jungkook and fluttering through his hair. “Right now, all I know is that you like cheesecake because you ate three slices at the bazaar the other week,” you chuckle.

It’s such a basic question, the bare minimum of knowing a person. But when you look at Jungkook like that, blinking those long lashes at him, it makes him forget his answer. “Um… Red,” he murmurs, watching you tug off the stem of the strawberry in your hands. “And white.”

You nod, and then you’re stretching a hand outward to offer him the aforementioned strawberry. When he doesn’t open his mouth right away, you silently demonstrate first, until Jungkook is slowly parting his lips and accepting your strawberry. The flavor bursts on his tongue, sweet and sticky, coating the very tips of your fingers when you don’t pull away fast enough. Jungkook averts his gaze when you pop them between your own lips and suck them clean. 

“Red and white,” you repeat, unaware of the lustful images that flicker through Jungkook’s mind, the way his eyes unconsciously drop to the front of your dress, at the crevice between your breasts that he remembers oh so well, the tight suction around his cock as you— “They make pink, which is my favorite color.” He desperately clears his mind of the memories that flash before his eyes. 

It’s a pretty color, fit for a pretty girl. Jungkook keeps the thought to himself as he watches you sift through the contents of your basket. It’s the perfect compliment to give you, he knows it’d make you happy, but his valor disappears when you throw him a soft grin and he’s transported back to a more recent memory, the memory in the car instead. 

A bad influence, he had called you, had watched your eyes well up with an emotion he had never seen on you before. Sadness? Disappointment? Disgust? He wasn’t sure, all Jungkook could really remember was the acidity on your tongue when you had repeated the words back to him, the ghost of your touch when you had abruptly pulled away from him, shut him out. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you so closed off before, not even when he had first met you and you were parading around with that staged shyness. 

And even when Jungkook had corrected himself afterwards (read: lied to you to cover his tracks), the emotion had lingered. Even when you had playfully brushed him off, he had caught your reflection in the window beside you as he drove to your place. The sullen look on your normally happy face, lips down-turned, eyes lowered. A look he had put there. 

And now he’s watching you carefully rip apart bread to throw at the birds with a tender smile. A cloud moves and suddenly the sun is beating down on your little picnic again, casting a beautiful glow across your skin that renders him breathless for the shortest moment, trapped by the sheer beauty you exude. You’re absolutely ethereal, and yet he had questioned you. Your morals, your character, everything. 

“__?” he says before he can stop himself. 

You hum, “yes, bunny?” before pausing your little feeding task to glance back over at him. When you look at Jungkook like this, meet his gaze straight on, he doesn’t see an ounce of ingenuity in your eyes. It might be Jungkook’s lovesick heart speaking, but he can’t imagine you ever lying to him. He looks away first, frowning at the various fruits sprawled between the two of you. 

You care about him, that much Jungkook wants to believe. And his beliefs are confirmed, when your voice drops an octave lower, becomes softer, as you murmur, “is everything alright?” The fruits are carefully set aside, breaking the wall between the two of you until you can shuffle forward, your knees bumping against his. Hands reach for his, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against his skin. 

Before you can repeat your inquiry a second time, Jungkook finds himself asking, “do you like me?” 

Jungkook’s sudden inquiry makes your cheeks heat up just the slightest, your startled inhale barely contained. 

It’s like a scene straight out of a teenage romcom— a confession in a park, your hearts bared for each other. But it’s a little awkward, you have to admit, unintentionally giving Jungkook’s soft hand a nervous squeeze as his question rolls over in your mind. 

Duh, you want to say. But there’s something about the look in Jungkook’s eye— the eyes he very purposefully turns towards your hands, the hair he had let loose today providing him ample protection from your gaze —that has you pausing, carefully considering your next words. 

You had hoped by now that it was obvious, that Jungkook understood how much he meant to you, and didn’t require some dorky confession in the park. Partially because, well. This wasn’t your usual role. Usually, it was the guy confessing to you, raving about all your redeeming qualities in an effort to win you over. But with Jungkook, all you know about relationships is flipped upside down, forcing you to play a position you’ve never played before. 

Jungkook wasn’t like you; he was soft and sentimental, practically wore his heart on his sleeve for the whole world to see. And it was a massive heart, filled with so much love and adoration for the world around him, that you felt bad when he wore such sullen expressions on his face.

Expressions like the one he has now, lips pressed together tightly as he misreads your silence. He has honest eyes, a dark toffee color that sends tingles down your spine when he looks your way. They glimmer with a sort of innocence for the world, a thin sparkle that makes him look like a prince sometimes. He was devastatingly handsome, and now he was upset. “Um— it’s okay,” he stammers, trying to move the conversation along. But his eyes flicker around nervously, anxiously. Like your silence has left a burn mark on him, painful and delicate to the touch. 

His comment isn’t completely unexpected. How very on-brand for big-hearted Jungkook to try to save you from an uncomfortable interaction, even if it was caused by him. “Um…” he murmurs, “it’s okay. If you don’t, uh. Like me?”

It sounds flimsy, even to you. 

“No, no,” you rush to correct, your ability to speak slowly coming back to you only after the fact. “I do,” you admit, nerves on edge at this rather foreign situation. “I… like you a lot, Jungkook.”

You shouldn’t be surprised by his reaction. Jungkook blinks slowly, like his brain is still processing the information, and then, ever so artfully, goes up in metaphorical flames. “O- Oh,” he stutters, reaching a free hand up to press his knuckles against his face. The rosy hue that had first blossomed over his cheeks has now started crawling down his neck now, up his ears. It’s terribly endearing. “I— um. I didn’t know,” Jungkook rambles, and it’s so cute, so sweet, how a simple confession from you renders him this flustered.

His face emanates a warmth tangible even on your own skin, lips cutely quirking to the side as he fights off a bashful smile and the raging blush your words bring about. It certainly is a sight to see. His hair tickles his eyebrow, swept out of its usually neat style, but it makes him look all the more gorgeous. “Cute,” you chuckle, feeling the slightest bit shy at such a warm response from Jungkook. You sit back, giving him the space he needs, and turn your attention up at the big blue sky instead. “Really? I thought it was obvious,” you hum.

Part of you actually feels really awkward; as you said before, everything is so brand new with him.  With Jungkook, he flips everything around for you, makes you actually admit to your emotions as opposed to simply going along with his. It’s a nice change of pace, as difficult as it may be, and the results are rather… cute as well. (He bites down a smile, but the action makes his normally soft cheeks look more pronounced than usual.) 

“Because, I, um. Me too,” he says, voice wavering. He clears his throat and tries to meet your gaze under his fringe, but doesn’t last more than a second before he’s pointedly glancing at the picnic blanket beneath the two of you. “I’m— I like you too,” he admits, ears tinted a bright red. You figured as much but it was always nice to hear, especially from someone like Jungkook. “A lot.”

“Thanks,” you smile, placing a hand on his thigh. 

His lips pull into a shy smile, aimed at your knees because he can never look you in the eye when you shower him in praise and other gooey, mushy feelings. It’s the same in the car or against your front door— he always manages to give your hand a tight squeeze, maybe even a kiss if he’s feeling brave. But the second you try to tell him you’ve had fun or that you’ll miss him, it’s like all his courage fades away, leaving him a blushing, smiley mess.

He was cute like that. Despite being so kind and caring, it was like Jungkook’s entire being stopped functioning when those types of gestures were aimed at him. So you relished those moments, looked forward to them with a fluttery feeling in your heart that couldn’t be tamed. 

Today, he throws you for a loop. Just as that proud, giddy smile appears, cheeks and ears a pretty pink, it fades away. The excitement from your mutual confessions seems to remind Jungkook of something else, something less warm, that has him quietly mumbling, “I’m sorry.” 

It’s confusing, to say the least. Just a moment prior, he had been pursing his lips in a silly attempt to hold back a smile. Now he’s staring at the ground with a rather pensive look, his apology sitting heavy in his throat. “What for?” you tentatively ask after one long beat. It had been so sudden. In your mind, there isn’t a single reason for Jungkook to be apologizing to you, especially so out of the blue. There is, however, an inkling of fear brought upon by what can only be classified as insecurity; you had just confessed your feelings for each other, why was he sorry about that? 

Jungkook exhales, a quiet sound that is nearly lost among the bustling noises of the park. If you hadn’t been sitting so close, maybe you wouldn’t have heard it at all. “I just,” he huffs, pointedly glaring at some random spot of grass beside you. His features look sharper than ever now, jawline defined, brows narrowed together. It’s a rather misplaced realization, but Jungkook looks absolutely gorgeous with distress painting his face. “I was… being selfish before.”

In the few weeks you’ve known him, you’ve come to realize Jungkook was many things. First and foremost, he’s an absolute gentleman. Raised on manners and compassion, looking after others everywhere he went. He was caring and sweet, loved this world and the people in it so much. Soft-spoken but straightforward. He was dreamy, disgustingly so. 

But selfish? It definitely sounds like something Jeon Jungkook is not. 

Before you can interrogate him even further, it seems like Jungkook is dead set on getting through this alone. “I- I’m sorry,” he repeats, eyes downcast. Noticing his wavering confidence, you resign yourself to listening, hand giving him a reassuring squeeze. Finally, after a short moment, Jungkook murmurs, “...in the car.” You tilt your head to the side curiously, waiting for him to go on. “I said, um. Something rude.” 

It takes a moment for the memory to load, and when it finally clicks into place and begins rolling, you find yourself muttering a faint, “ah.” 

If it’s what you think it is, he’s talking about last weekend outside of the church. That terribly awkward encounter that had left a sour taste in your mouth afterwards. A bad influence, you recall him saying, the memory of his voice looped in your mind the entire drive to your place. 

In all honesty, it had stung a little. While you were aware that Jungkook had an ongoing mental battle, you hadn’t realized your role was that big in it. It’s the reason you had sent him home that day, made up a lie about schoolwork just to give him some space. It’s nothing new, everyone’s had someone think badly of them before; gossipy classmates, rivals, maybe even random strangers on the street. But it felt different when it was coming from someone as sweet as Jungkook, so polite and righteous, who wouldn’t even hurt a fly. Like he was stating a fact, not an opinion. 

It was a slip-up on Jungkook’s end, that much you could tell. Because he had been frantic to correct himself afterwards, had looked at you with these fearful eyes, like one wrong move and you’d slip from between his hands. Luckily, you weren’t that sensitive— definitely not as sensitive as him, at least —and such a comment had been practically meaningless moments later. 

Still, in those few moments where it was meaningful (read: the short period it took for Jungkook to get home and call you, the words looping around your brain until the harsh ring of your cell phone finally interrupted), it had left you wondering. Have you been pushing him too far, asking for too much? The way you saw it, you always gave Jungkook room to object to any of your advances. You know he’s trapped in his thoughts more often than not, but you pay attention to him, you really do. You make sure to take his reactions into account, try to offer solutions where possible. But, for the briefest moment, all of those efforts had felt fruitless that day in the car. 

What you say next is not a complete lie; sure, Jungkook’s comment had hurt for a bit, but here he was now apologizing for it. That was a good sign… right? “It’s okay,” you brush off, patting his cheek softly, hoping with every fiber in your being that it really was okay.

Your voice is gentle, soothing his doubts. Just moments prior, Jungkook had felt like he was asking for too much, especially when your feelings toward him were up in the air. But your earnest confession soothed the ache in his heart. It’s all he’s wanted these past few months, to belong in your heart like you do his. 

But the guilt from before, the tumultuous feelings he’s been harboring towards you since the weekend, dampens his excitement. From your confession alone, it doesn’t seem like you questioned Jungkook. You weren’t put off by who he was, what he loved. So why couldn’t Jungkook be like you, think like you?

“I’m still sorry,” he says again, feeling like a broken record when he catches this sympathetic smile on your face. The scraps of eloquence he had gathered while originally apologizing seem to fade away, leave him a stuttering mess when he tries again. “That was— I shouldn’t have said—“

“Hey,” you cut off, placing a hand against his cheek. It stops his fidgeting, forces him to meet your gaze head on. There’s a smile on your face but something inside of Jungkook says it doesn’t feel real. “I like you, Jungkook.” 

And it’s true and genuine, your words so honest it pains him to think he had ever thought otherwise. And you’re still smiling, even after being hit with the implication that Jungkook questioned your character and maybe that’s what hurts the most. That you still try to put on an easygoing expression for him after he’s said something hurtful. It’s the car all over again, that blank look in your eyes when he had spoken carelessly. 

Before he can apologize for the umpteenth time, you’re shaking your head softly, smiling anew. But this time, he can’t tell if it’s real or not. “I brought orange juice,” you say, expertly moving the conversation along. And just as Jungkook has been thinking for weeks now, it’s like you know him so well. You know when things make him anxious or uncomfortable, know just how to help him out. 

There’s a feeling of guilt that blossoms in his chest, but this time it’s different. 

It’s not the usual sticky gross feeling of before, the one that has him staying up at night repenting for all his wrongdoings. It’s a personal kind of guilt that comes along with the frank realization that, while you have been learning and adapting to being around Jungkook, he has not been doing the same for you. 

Though you may be a little playful at times, you don’t tease him for who he is, don’t stomp all over his beliefs as much as he deluded himself into thinking you do. (That whole, faux-believer thing was a different circumstance.) Like with the cross in his house the other day. As much as Jungkook wanted to believe what you had done was evil, he had, quite honestly, enjoyed himself afterwards. There wasn’t that heavy discomfort sitting on his chest anymore, that sense of shame lingering as you’d kissed his body and let him caress yours too, in the safety of your eyes only. It was enjoyable and fun, had felt exhilarating to be so intimate with you. 

And instead of being thankful for your mindful efforts, he had questioned your sincerity. 

The picnic goes by in a flash. Jungkook is sad he can’t enjoy it to the fullest, his brain filled with clamorous thoughts that circled around to torture him every few minutes. Still, the entire date feels like a dream, vibrant and beautiful, leaving him in a daze. He doesn’t want to wake up. 

By the time you suggest wrapping up, the sun is setting over the horizon, the windows and lights of the buildings around you slowly flickering to life like a sea of tiny stars. He feels weak in the knees as he helps you pack everything back in your basket. “All set,” you smile, walking beside him, knuckles brushing against his until you fulfill Jungkook’s wordless wish and slip your hand into his. 

Jungkook agrees, hoping his hand isn’t sweaty and that you mean what you say. “I- I liked the food,” he remembers to mention, the fact that you had so carefully and lovingly prepared all this not entirely lost on him. His compliment, as simple as it may be, has you beaming at him as you exit through the park’s front gates. His car is parked along the street, the sleek vehicle coming into view as you round the street corner, hands still fastened. “Um,” he mumbles, pausing beside it. You turn to face him, eyes clear and content. 

All good things come to an end, he supposes, reluctantly letting go of your hand when you tug. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” you say, stepping up close, chest pressed against his. His breath hitched in his throat, eyes going wide when you nuzzle against his neck. Your hands slip around his waist. They wrap around him perfectly, make Jungkook feel like he was made for you. 

By the time he’s springing into action, jerkily raising his free hand up to your back, you’re stepping away. “Call me when you get home,” you wink, sending shivers down his spine when he remembers what happened the last time you said that. 

But Jungkook doesn’t think he can wait that long. 

You’re slipping further and further away, fingertips just barely brushing against his forearm, when Jungkook jolts into action. “How are you, um—“ he stammers, feels too big for his shoes when you tilt your head curiously. And then, “d- do you need a ride?” he mumbles, cheeks warm. 

It’s a feeble attempt at asking what he really wants. Offering you a ride home, while not a bad idea considering it was late and you had taken the bus here, is nowhere near what Jungkook really wants. What he wants is standing before him, thin spaghetti strap slipping down their shoulder, eyes sensually half-lidded and you know this too— because, again, you know Jungkook so well, know what he wants even if he can’t say it —as you step into his bubble again, peer up at him with your arms held behind your back. 

“A ride home?” you ask, blinking your long lashes in a way that robs him of his breath. And he can see that switch flick on inside of you, watches that pure and innocent gleam in your eyes slowly become replaced with something mischievous. Jungkook nods dumbly. “I’d love that.”

Jungkook blinks. “Great,” he chokes out, neatly dropping the wicker basket in his hands. In a way, it brings him back down to reality, lets him snap away from your hypnotizing gaze as he reaches for the keys in his pocket. “Let me— I just have to— yeah,” he stammers, clicking the button on his car keys one too many times, has it perkily beeping. Your lips press together into an amused smile, the last thing Jungkook sees before ripping himself away from you and yanking the back door open. 

He nearly throws the basket in like a madman, glassware be damned. It’s his last shred of rationality that tells him not to, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge as he steps up to the edge of the sidewalk and carefully places it on the floor behind the passenger’s seat. 

When Jungkook rises back up, there is a hand that brushes against his forearm, a gentle touch that has him throwing a curious glance your way. He’s not expecting to be so entranced by the dreamy look in your eyes, feet glued to the ground as you trail your hand down, catching his wrist between your fingers. You’re standing so close, making Jungkook feel like he’s trapped between you and his own car. His entire body is on edge when you lean in, placing a soft kiss against the very corner of his mouth. It leaves a tingling sensation, and accompanied with the growing warmth beneath his skin, feels like he’s been burned. “I had fun,” you murmur, voice low. It sends a shock of electricity down his spine, a wave of exhilaration that has him fully turning to face you as you eventually step away, that same playful grin on your features again. 

A surge of confidence and greed overcomes him, has him stepping forward into your space despite the nervousness that builds within him. There’s a hint of surprise in your eyes that you quickly mask, placating his bumbling nerves with a delicate hand placed over his heart. He can’t breathe when you lean in, softly humming, “kiss me?” 

Jungkook’s lower lip wobbles. “O- Okay,” he concedes, voice but an airy whisper that is soon swallowed up. You taste like fruit and orange juice, remnants of your picnic clinging to your lips as you slowly consume Jungkook’s entire attention with this soft brush alone. It’s a rather short affair, one that ends all too soon when you pull away with a soft sigh against his lips. 

Your smile is so pretty when you angle it at him, has him taking one jerky step backwards. His back hits the car, feels trapped. But he isn’t scared, doesn’t find himself anxiously awaiting your next move. “Good boy,” you purr, reaching one graceful hand forward, playfully tugging at his tie, wrapping it around your knuckles as you use it as leverage to pull him close again. 

You’re just so pretty, Jungkook has always thought so. From the moment he first met you until now, there is something about you—a glint in your eyes, a quirk to your lips—that has had him under your spell for weeks now. 

Had Jungkook seriously despised you and your ethics, perhaps this feeling would have gone away. But the fact of the matter is that you make Jungkook’s heart hammer dangerously in his chest, a shot of adrenaline through his veins when you look at him with those low-lidded eyes, touch him with those experienced hands. He wants you so bad, even after all he’s learned, all he’s seen. He wants you over him and under him, pressed against him from head to toe. He wants and he wants, and he knows it’s bad to want so much, to be so greedy. But with you around, Jungkook finds himself giving into that greed, clutching at it like a lifeline. “We can, um—,” he stammers, placing one uncertain hand against the top of the door frame beside him. You raise your brows, egging him on yet patiently waiting all at once. 

Your gaze is so strong, and it’s in moments like these that Jungkook feels that feeling crawl up his throat. A serpentine gaze, a sticky sweet tongue. Everything he’s ever known says it’s wrong, but his heart and your confession says otherwise. He looks away, throws a bashful glance at the plush leather seats behind him. “In… inside?”  

And the offer has you positively beaming before him, that same flirtatious shimmer in your irises doubling at the words that roll off his tongue. “Oh my,” you swoon playfully, stepping back to, Jungkook assumes, allow him to get in. 

He plops down, feels like he would break out in a sweat if the evening temperature wasn’t so cool. The car’s interior blends into the shadows, his clothing practically indiscernible against the dark shade of the seats. A stark contrast to the pretty floral dress that suddenly spills itself over his lap when you climb in, the door tugged shut beside the two of you. All is silent, your thighs over his, hands on his shoulders. “Hi, bunny,” you murmur, lips pulled into a smirk, provocative yet playful, like you know something that Jungkook doesn’t. 

Jungkook’s throat feels dry but he still manages to gulp. He’s drowning in your perfume and your body lotion, in the faint smell of the outdoors clinging to your clothes and your hair, the absolutely heavenly scent of just you in your entirety. “Hi,” he whispers back, voice lost beneath the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears. And his quiet greeting is rewarded with two soft hands that crawl up his neck, cupping his face in their palms. 

“You were so sweet today,” you purr, nose nudging against his when you finally lean in, pressing your breasts against Jungkook. A tiny gasp catches in his throat, his hands instinctively going to your waist. “Can I kiss you again?” 

Jungkook has never wanted anything more. “Please,” he exhales, feeling like he’ll explode if you don’t kiss him soon. You take his request in stride, jut your face forward just the slightest bit until your mouth is pressed firmly against his, the movement of your lips a practiced rhythm that he just can’t seem to master. He still tries his best, puckers his lips when he feels it’s right, tilts his head when you urge him with a soft nudge. He tries his best and hopes it’s enough. 

By now, Jungkook has come to understand that there is a pattern to your kisses. You always start off slow and relaxed, mouth languidly moving against his as you lure him across a tightrope of anticipation. They gradually become more intense, pulling out whimpers and sighs from Jungkook that he had never known were possible. It’s a carefully crafted art form, the tongue that slides out from between your pillowy lips, dips into his own mouth with a giggly pant. “Good boy,” you hum in between, hands burying themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Always so good.”

Jungkook shudders when you eventually part, can’t catch his breath fast enough before you’re reaching for the buttons on the front of his shirt, easily undoing the casual tie too. “Relax,” you tell him, bypassing his lips for the warm expanse of skin just below. You kiss over his chin, down his neck, as your hands crawl beneath his shirt and around his naked waist. 

He’s ticklish, and when you brush against his ribs, he unwillingly releases a sharp huff of laughter. It’s followed by a wide-eyed look of embarrassment, cheeks a warm hue when you lean back in surprise at this new bit of information. “I— sorry,” he blurts out, because he doesn’t know proper make-out etiquette, doesn’t know anything really, except what you’ve shown him. 

But the sound makes you snort, looking at him with this gaze that drips with honey. “So cute,” you tell him, placing a chaste kiss against his lips, before disappearing back down to lavish his throat with filthier kisses. And with you laving your tongue across his skin, biting at every inch available, Jungkook is left to fuzzily stare over the crystal clear windshield. He’s struck with the faint realization that if someone were to look hard enough, they would see him through the tinted glass as he fell apart into the hands of a pretty girl. 

The soft smack of your lips against his skin is sensual, makes every hair on his body stand stiff. Your lips trail down the column of his neck, placing a bruising kiss at the juncture where it meets the rest of his body. “Oh,” he sighs, eyelids fluttering when a hand squeezes at his chest, thumb against his nipple. 

Another muffled giggle pressed against the base of his neck, and when Jungkook focuses his eyes again, he catches his own gaze in the rearview mirror. 

The sight of him is… weird to say the least. 

Even in the dark, his lips look thoroughly debauched, puffier and redder than usual, slick with saliva that isn’t entirely his. He doesn’t tell himself to, but his mirrored counterpart peeks his tongue out, runs it along his top lip sinfully. Startled by his own appearance, Jungkook jolts in place, feeling you shift in his lap with a soft little whine. “Bunny,” you frown, and Jungkook watches your side profile in the tiny mirror as you sit back up, press your lips against his ear. “Sit still for me,” you tell him, hand slithering up his chest, around his throat. Over his Adam’s apple, squeezing just the slightest. It’s not tight, but it knocks the air out of his lungs when he sees the action mirrored back at him on the reflective surface. 

That familiar guilt sticks in his throat, evident when your hand slips away and he swallows harshly, the protrusion just beneath his skin bobbing up and down. 

In the back of Jungkook’s mind, he can recall the religious story that surrounded this bodily feature; a sin and the consequence. A garden and a fruit, a beautiful woman by his side. 

Your hand creeps down between your bodies, palming over his quickly fattening cock, and Jungkook swears he sees stars, a strained whimper escaping from his lips that you giggle at. “Oh my,” he huffs, clutching at the skirt of your dress. You nuzzle close again, pressing a tender kiss against the side of his neck. 

Your hands are so soft and sweet, brushing over his cock like you’re simply caressing him out of adoration and not because you want him to cum, staining his seats and your dress. Either way, Jungkook can’t even begin to imagine what you must be thinking; before the date and his confession, he had been afraid that you would discard him. Maybe Jungkook wasn’t what you wanted, maybe he wasn’t what you needed. You were so confident in yourself and your actions, a stark contrast to Jungkook and his constant uncertainty, his fear of doing the wrong thing plaguing him at all hours of the day. 

Even now, with your hands expertly tugging his zipper down, he finds himself going back to that story. That apple in the garden, the consequences it had hailed. Never mind the fact you’re on top of him, claiming to like him, with your hands touching every inch of his skin. He keeps looping back to that Biblical verse instead, thinks about it when your fingers meanly let the elastic band of his briefs snap against his skin. “Ouch,” he flinches, voice a soft whine. He turns too quickly and too suddenly, nose bumping against yours because you’re still so close. 

You smile, puckering your lips for the lightest of kisses. It’s the little things like that that make Jungkook’s entire thought process stall, distantly aware of the fact that it’s, like always, you leading the majority of your encounters once again. Even during your picnic, it had been you who had practically held his hand as you navigated through basic information, asked for his favorite color and his favorite drink. Had it not been for your own proactive tendencies, Jungkook fears he would have never known your favorite color was pink or your favorite day of the week was Thursday. 

It’s a fact that makes him pause, jaw tightening as he once again realizes how little effort he was putting into knowing you. For someone who claimed to like you a lot, he rarely did the work to prove it. Even now, he’s too unsure of who he is and who you are to indulge you properly, instead watching you lead the scene as usual. Before he can stop himself, a sigh is escaping his lips. 

It must convey his emotions perfectly, because it’s enough to make your wandering hands pause by his waist. “Everything okay?” you ask, always knowing what he’s feeling. And it sucks that he couldn’t say the same for himself. 

“N— Yes,” he rushes to say, looking up at you with round eyes, the moonlight painting half of your face a paler color than usual, the other side shrouded in darkness. It makes your eyes look darker, makes Jungkook gulp loudly when you turn those inquisitive eyes on him. 

His answer doesn’t seem to convince you, and it’s with little to no hesitation that you sit back. It puts a distance between the two of you that Jungkook can’t say he’s a fan of. “Jungkook,” you say, voice stern yet warm, one hand reaching up to brush your knuckles against his cheek. “Tell me what’s bothering you?” 

It makes Jungkook nervous. He knows he thinks too much. Part of him fears that oversharing with you will drive you away, put you even farther than you are now. Maybe next time it’ll be a room’s length away, a football field’s length away. And he doesn’t want that; he wants to hold you close, he really does. But there are traditions he carries and beliefs he holds dearly that make it hard for him to do so, as much as it pains him. 

The only reason he knows he’s frowning is because you press your pointer finger against the corner of his mouth. You lean in close, nose bumping against his. It sends your scent billowing over him, makes him dizzy when he becomes aware of the hand he’s got on your bare thigh, the rumpled skirt of your dress pushed away. “Talk to me, bunny,” you murmur. You don’t make a move to kiss him, a fact that Jungkook feels both grateful and disheartened by. “Please?”

And he can’t deny you, not when you ask so nicely. You have this metaphorical grip on Jungkook, a tight hold around his throat that has made him act impulsively these past few weeks, desperate to be with you, to please you. Even now, despite how much he wants to withhold his thoughts, he finds himself quietly admitting them instead. “I want to know you,” he mumbles, unable to meet your eye. You don’t push him to. “I really, um. I like you, __. A lot.” It’s a repetition of his earlier confession. And still, it makes him nervous. A thumb brushes against his cheekbone, encouraging him to meet your solemn gaze even if it means being a blushing mess afterwards. “Before we, uh, do�� things.” 

His words may be choppy and incoherent, but you understand him all the same. “You want to go out some more,” you clarify, removing your hand from his cheek. The phantom trail of your fingertips on his skin remains, feels colder when you lean away to allow him some more space. 

Jungkook nods quickly, hoping this rush of adrenaline might help him through this. He bites down on his lower lip, carefully analyzing your expression for any signs of disbelief or disgust. But all he sees is understanding, a cool expression that makes Jungkook’s heart thunder. “I…,” he says, glancing down at where he’s still got his hand on your naked skin. Something inside of him tells him to rub his thumb across it, an action he doesn’t think through until he hears a sharp inhale, watches goosebumps rise over the skin. “I’m sorry,” he rushes out, snatching his hand away before he can do something else of a similar sort. “I- I just—“ said hand now waves around wildly beside him “—I really like you, as a, um— uh. A person. And I—“ and this is where he becomes aware of his unbuttoned shirt and the way you’ve got your pretty pussy pressed against his thigh now “—I, um. I want to know me— I mean, you —better? More? Like—“

His embarrassing babbling is cut off with a gentle kiss to his lips. No tongue, no saliva. Just soft lips against his, a delicate hand against his shoulders. When you pull away, Jungkook unconsciously trails after the touch, eyes half-lidded and in a daze when you place a palm on his chest. “I got it,” you say, lips quirking into a tiny smile. “I want to know more about you too, bunny,” you admit, reaching for the front of his shirt. He watches on with flushed cheeks as you slowly button it up for him, finishing it off with a playful tap against the underside of his chin. 

You glance out of the window thoughtfully. Jungkook is suddenly reminded of how pretty you are, your skin practically glimmering under the pale moonlight. It catches on your necklace, a thin chain with a cross on the end. If he focuses his eyes behind you, his own reflection stares back once more. Jungkook’s entire body threatens to lock up tightly, but a single kiss on the cheek from you interrupts the process. “Do you wanna date?” you ask, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. 

Jungkook can’t agree fast enough. “I— yes,” he gasps, leaning forward too suddenly. It makes you flinch back in surprise, back pressing up against the driver’s seat behind you in surprise. You wouldn’t have fallen or anything, but Jungkook reacts like it was a serious possibility anyway, grasping at your waist and pulling you snug against him, soft thighs sandwiching his tiny waist. “Oh, God,” he frets, immediately moving to release you. 

But you catch him with two arms thrown around his neck, pulling Jungkook close to you for another kiss. Deeper and… meaningful, your satiny lips carefully slotted against his. While it surprises him at first, Jungkook finds himself melting into it soon enough. This was okay, he tells himself, and for the first time in a few weeks, he finds himself believing it. 

It was just kissing— intimate yet appropriate kissing —between two people who were seeing each other. Him, properly seeing you. His heart threatens to burst out of its cage for a second. It’s the first time since he’s met you that he can fully say he hadn’t felt nervous about his actions, hadn’t felt like he was committing some grave sin for chasing after your touch. It was just a kiss, simple and sweet, making both of you smile bashfully when you eventually pull away. There was no lying and no guilt, no tears and no stress. 

It felt good.

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[tobesolonely]

apartment 41

hi y’all! this is my very VERY late submission for @meetmeinfleetwood​ ‘s “To Lovers” challenge (thank u miss sadie for even still accepting this LOL) but here is some good ol fashioned strangers to lovers with the line, “will you stay the night?” . :D enjoy everyone!

warnings: mentions of alcohol, intoxication, smut :)

word count: ~5.2k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

There were many things you loved about living on your own. You loved that your apartment was always clean. You loved that at the end of a long day, you could come back and brood in peace. You loved walking around in nothing but your underwear without the fear of anyone seeing you. You did things when you wanted, how you wanted. As a self-proclaimed introvert, there was nothing you loved more than living by yourself.

However, during slightly inconvenient moments like these, you wished you had someone else in the apartment with you.

You swore you’d been trying to get your favorite jar of pasta sauce open for at least the past ten minutes. It had been a long day at work, and at the moment all you wanted to do was heat the entire jar of sauce, boil a bunch of pasta, and call it a night. You were growing beyond frustrated–– you even contemplated just breaking the jar open. Ultimately, you decided against it lest you be met with a mouthful of glass.

Feeling defeated, you pick up your phone in frustration and hurriedly punch in your father’s number. The phone rings twice before he answers. “Hello? What’s up, hun?”

“Dad, what should I do if I can’t get this jar open? Like, it’s seriously glued shut,” you set it down on the counter probably a little too hard considering it was a glass jar. “I’m so hungry.”

“Did you try running it under hot water?”

You did.

“Hm. Try getting a good grip on it with a dish towel or something?”

Of course, you did.

“Well, I’m not driving over there just to open a jar for you,” your dad pauses. “You have neighbors, don’t you? Why don’t you knock on one of their doors?”

“Isn’t that weird?”

“No weirder than asking to borrow a cup of sugar.”

You thank your dad for the suggestion and hang up with him shortly after. He was right. You just needed someone to quickly open the jar for you and then you’d be back in your apartment, secluded from society until the next morning when you went into work. Besides, you’d been in your apartment for roughly three months now and you didn’t have a relationship with any of your neighbors. You figured now was as good a time as any to at least meet the person who lived directly across from you.

You slide on your slippers and clear the few steps it takes to reach your neighbor’s door. A faded ‘41’ was on their door, and a cheeky mat that read, ‘Did you call first?’ was at your feet.

You tried racking your brain for any memory of what your neighbor may look like, but you were drawing a blank. You were more to yourself than you initially thought you were and made a silent vow to become more social from this point on. You situate the jar of pasta sauce under your arm before placing two firm knocks against the door. Moments later, the door is flung open and you’re met with the smell of something delicious cooking, and a handsome, tall man donning a dirty apron.

“Hi, is everything alright?” he has a concerned look on his face as he looks over the top of your head and into your apartment.

“I— This is a little embarrassing,” you mumble, feeling your body grow warm. “I live by myself and I’ve been trying to get this jar of pasta sauce open for at least twenty minutes and I can’t. Do you think you can?”

His mouth slowly turns upwards into a smile before finally nodding, reaching out his hand to grab the jar of pasta sauce from you. “It’s pasta night at your place too, hmm?” His tongue is poked out of the corner of his mouth as he focuses on the task at hand.

“Yeah,” you reply. “I’m just gonna heat up the entire jar of sauce, boil some spaghetti noodles, and call it a night.”

The pop! of the jar causes you to jump slightly. “That doesn’t sound like very good pasta.”

You retrieve the pasta sauce from him, quietly thanking him. “It gets the job done.”

Your neighbor hums in agreement. “‘M sure it does. If you ever wanna taste some really good pasta though, y’know where I’ll be.”

“I do,” you nod. “Well, thank you again. I’ll let you go back to making your pasta sauce that is just way better than mine.”

He lets out a loud laugh. “I appreciate it. It wasn’t any problem at all, I’m here most evenings if you ever need help opening anything else, uh…” He trails off.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N. Beautiful name. I’m Harry, by the way.”

You look down at the dirty hallway carpet, a wide smile on your face. “Thank you, Harry. It was nice to finally meet you, by the way.”

“You too. Have a good night.”

You give him one more smile before turning on your heels and walking back inside your apartment, gently shutting the door. You quickly look out the peephole and catch him just as he’s closing his door, a dimpled-grin on his face.

It was Friday night when you finally got the chance to speak with him again. You were sitting on your kitchen stool nursing a glass of wine and waiting for your frozen pizza to heat in the oven when you heard someone coming down the hallway. As you had been doing all week since your interaction with Harry, you set your glass of wine down and shuffle over to your peephole, eyes scanning the small amount of hallway that was visible.

Harry comes into view seconds later, four overflowing bags of groceries precariously balanced along the length of his arms.

“Fuck.” You hear him mutter to himself. He attempts to reach in his pocket for his keys but once he realizes he can’t do so without setting at least one bag of groceries down, he lets out a loud huff in what you assume to be annoyance. You scuttle to your shoe rack and slip your shoes on before quickly flinging your door open.

“Hi! Need help?”

Harry jumps and you both watch as the contents of the bag he was getting ready to set down spill at his feet. “Now I do,” he’s already picking his groceries off the floor. “You scared the shit out of me. Also, were you watching me?”

Your face grows warm. “I heard someone coming down the hallway so I wanted to see who it was.”

“Oh, really?” Harry questions, pausing to look up at you. “You came out of your place so quickly, felt like I was bein’ watched or something.”

You know he’s teasing you but you can’t help but feel a little embarrassed that he caught onto what you were doing so quickly. Instead of dignifying his statement with an answer, you bend down and begin helping him pick up his spilled groceries. His hand grazes yours lightly as you both reach for a can of black beans, now slightly dented. It lingers for a moment before he retracts it to retrieve a different item. A quick, side-eyed glance reveals that his cheeks are tinged red.

“What are you making for dinner?” You ask him, standing up and dusting off the knees of your leggings.

“Uh, veggie chili. S’one of my favorites–– hey, is something burning?”

Your eyes widen and you abruptly turn away from Harry without so much as a goodbye, hurrying toward your kitchen that was starting to grow foggy from smoke produced by your oven. You were so preoccupied with helping Harry gather up his spilled groceries that you had totally forgotten you had a frozen pizza in the oven and if the smell was any indication of its current state, it was most likely inedible at this point.

Reaching for the oven mitt you kept next to the knives on the counter, you open the oven and fan the smoke out of your face, holding back a gag from the burnt smell. Your fire alarm immediately goes off once you open the oven and Harry appears a second later, a concerned look on his face. He looks around for your smoke detector and once he sees it he stands on his tiptoes to turn it off. You set your now blackened pizza on top of the oven and turn on the microwave fan. Harry’s already opening windows around your apartment, fanning the air with a throw pillow from your couch.

“Thanks,” you mumble, a wave of embarrassment washing over your body. You feared that Harry probably thought you were the most incompetent person on this planet–– first, you couldn’t get a jar open, and now here you are nearly setting your apartment on fire. “Guess I should’ve set a timer, huh?”

“Yeah, ‘spose you should’ve,” he replies. “It’s okay, though. ‘M about to get started on dinner, you can join me? If you’d like, that is. Maybe you’ll have a new recipe so you can stop eatin’ all this frozen shit.”

“Leave my frozen foods out of this,” you playfully scold him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Thank you for the invite though, that would be great, actually. I’m gonna get this cleaned up and then I’ll be right over?”

“Sounds good,” he neatly situates your pillow back on the couch. “I’ll see you in a bit, Y/N. Door will be unlocked.”

Once Harry’s gone, you move into action, quickly tossing the pizza into the trashcan before running to your bathroom. You try to remember if you brushed your teeth earlier that day but you can’t, so you brush them again just to be safe. You hastily examine yourself in the mirror before deciding you weren’t going to do anything more, not wanting to come off as trying too hard. You were almost one hundred percent certain Harry was just being neighborly–– nothing indicated that he found you attractive, so you didn’t want to make it too obvious that you found him to be the most stunning man you’ve ever seen in your life.

Locking your door, you clear the distance from your welcome mat to his in five steps flat, and take a deep breath before letting yourself in.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that Harry had more skill in the kitchen than an everyday home-chef did. He all but floated around the room, chopping with ease and finesse. The two of you had settled into a comfortable silence as he worked and you watched. Billy Joel played softly over his Bluetooth speaker, and he’d occasionally stop what he was doing to take a sip of his wine and look over his shoulder at you, almost as if he was checking if you were still there because you were being so quiet.

Your head was starting to grow fuzzy as you finished your third glass of wine that night, so you make the (responsible) decision to cut yourself off for the night. “Can I have a glass of water?”

“Course y’can,” he replies quietly, not stopping what he was doing. “Give me just a second and I’ll get ya––”

“Oh, I can get it myself. Just tell me where the cups are.”

Harry stops chopping and turns completely to face you, an amused look on his face. “You’re plastered, aren’t ya?”

“No? Why do you think that?”

Harry laughs. “You can’t hear yourself stumblin’ over your words, but I can. Jus’ stay right there and I’ll get your water. You want ice?”

“How do you know how to cook so well?”

“Culinary school,” he responds coolly. “Ice?”

You’re not sure if you are as drunk as Harry says you are, but you were currently finding the fact that Harry went to culinary school the coolest thing ever. “A chef? No way! What kind of chef?”

“I’m a Sous Chef. Gonna give ya a bit of ice.”

“I can’t believe I live across from a chef! No wonder you were giving me shit for eating canned pasta sauce,” you take the glass of water from Harry’s outstretched hand, thanking him. “Even your water tastes better than mine!”

“I think you’re just pissed, Y/N,” Harry responds, eyes crinkled from smiling. “Do y’like cooked carrots?” Your nose wrinkles in response to Harry’s question and he mutters something about how he’ll leave them out before turning back towards the stove to check on his food.

“How old are you, Harry?”

“Just turned twenty-seven. Yourself?”

“I’m twenty-four!” You exclaim, a little too excited. “Where are you from?”

He turns to look at you, eyebrow raised. “England. What gave it away?”

“Your accent.”

He hums, a small smirk on his lips. “Where are you from?”

“I’m from here. Just moved back home from my college town but didn’t wanna move back in with my parents, so here I am.”

“No roommates, you said?”

“Nope,” you pop the ‘p’, taking a big gulp of water. “You don’t either, do you? I just realized I haven’t heard or seen anyone else since I’ve been here.”

“I do not. I had a roommate when I first moved in but he ended up gettin’ engaged and moving in with his fiancée, so it’s just me for now. I think I like livin’ on my own better, though.” You watch as Harry reaches into his cabinet and retrieves two bowls and starts spooning your dinner into them. He sets the bowl in front of you and hands you a spoon, nodding at you to try it.

You bring a spoonful up to your mouth, blowing a few times before shoving it into your mouth. Your eyes widen at the amazing flavor that fills your mouth, and your eyes diverge to his. “This is incredible!”

Harry looks down at his bowl of food, a shy grin on his face. “Thanks, Y/N. Glad you like it.” He grabs his glass of wine from behind him and moves around to the other side of the island to sit next to you.

“Are you a vegetarian?” You ask, mouth full.

“Somewhat. I’m a pescatarian,” he shovels a spoonful of the chili into his mouth. “More wine?”

“I better not,” you reply, mind still fuzzy from all you’ve drunk throughout the night. “This is seriously so good, Harry. You’re cute, you can cook, you’re nice… you’re like, a triple threat!”

“Callin’ me cute?”

“C’mon, you know you are,” you answer boldly. “I’m just stating the obvious.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” he takes a sip of wine. “You’re a pretty big looker yourself.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“You flirted with me first.”

“So what if I did?”

Harry lets out a quiet scoff, going back to eating his food. After a moment he says, “I wouldn’t mind.” You smile to yourself and continue eating, bringing the bowl up to your lips and tipping your head back so you could get every last drop of Harry’s veggie chili. He gets up to get another helping of food as you get up to place your bowl in the sink, lifting your sleeves to wash it.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says as he brushes past you, going back to where he was previously seated. “I’ll clean up later. Do y’want some dessert?”

“I think I will take some more wine,” you grab the bottle from the center of the island along with your glass, pouring a generous amount. “This is good. Nothing like the cheap bottles I get from Target.”

“I’m glad you like it. Thought I’d pull this one out tonight, always pairs well with dishes like this…” He trails off. “Anyway, yeah. Glad y’like it.”

You and Harry finish off the bottle of wine no more than thirty minutes later, having by now situated yourselves on his couch. He turned something onto the television (you think it was Iron Chef), but neither one of you were paying any attention to it. Harry was asking about what you studied in college, how you like your current career and your favorite things to do in your free time. You were asking him about England, his family back home, and why he chose to go to culinary school.

He has a way about him that captivates you— just completely pulls you in— and you never want to stop listening to him speak. Harry leans close to you when you talk, almost as if you’re telling him a secret that he doesn’t want to miss out on.

“I think ‘m jus’ as drunk as you are now,” Harry whispers, letting out an adorable giggle. “Goin’ into work tomorrow is gonna be a proper pain.”

“No one told you to try and outdrink me!” You yell, tucking your knees under your bottom. “Now we’re both drunk, what good does that do?”

“Think it’s more fun this way, don’t you?” Harry lets out a little burp, his face flushing. “Wanna help me clean the kitchen?”

“What happened to cleaning it later?” You stand up from the couch, wobbling slightly before catching your balance.

“Well, I didn’t think we’d get drunk off our arses and sit here talkin’ til one in the mornin’, did you?” He stands up as well, his hand moving to rest on the small of your back as he scooches past you.

“There’s no way it’s that late,” you retort, checking the time on your phone. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to overextend my stay. I’ll help you clean this place up and then get going.”

Harry swats a hand in front of his face, shaking his head. “Overextend your stay? Of course y’didn’t, more than happy to have you here. Do you wanna wash or dry?”

“I’ll wash since I don’t know where anything goes.” You move to the sink and roll up your sleeves, moving the small number of dishes in the sink all to one side so you can fill the other side with water. Silence falls over you again as you clean the dishes from dinner and soon enough you’re done, drying your hands on your t-shirt.

“Thank you, Y/N. We make a good team, huh? Got that done quickly, didn’t we?” He folds the dishtowel in half neatly and hangs it over the handle of his oven.

“Yeah,” you yawn, slipping on your shoes that had been discarded earlier in the night by the door. “I’ll get out your hair and let you get to bed, then. Thank you for having me over and for cooking that delicious dinner, I enjoyed it. I owe you.”

“If it’s frozen food, don’t worry about it,” he jokes, moving to open the door for you. “If you want to cook me something, though…”

“How about I take you out for dinner? I stay out of the kitchen, and you’ll get something edible and halfway decent. A win-win?”

Harry laughs. “‘M lookin’ forward to it. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“I couldn’t decide between Italian or sushi but since you’re a pescetarian, I figured sushi was our best bet.”

Harry looks away from the menu and at you, clearing his throat before speaking. “That was really thoughtful. Surprised you remembered considering how loaded you were.”

“For the last time, I was not that drunk,” you defend yourself, gently kicking his calf from underneath the table. “By the end of the night, you had way more than me!”

“Maybe so,” he replies nonchalantly, looking back at the menu. “Let’s not forget who can handle their alcohol better, though.”

You let out an indignant hmph, and get to scouring the menu yourself. You didn’t eat sushi very often so you figured you’d probably just get whatever Harry got.

“Let’s do sake bombs.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Sake bombs? Are you tryin’ to get me drunk again?”

“They’re fun! Just one?”

Harry shakes his head at you and grins before waving over the waitress, asking her politely for two sake bombs. She comes back a few minutes later with the alcohol and chopsticks balanced precariously on a tray, setting them in front of you and Harry respectively.

The waitress stands back and says, “Ichi… ni… san… sake bomb!” The two of you pound the table until your shot glasses fall into the cup and then you throw your heads back, chugging down the cocktail. When you finally finish chugging your drink and look back up at Harry, he’s staring at his watch as if he’s been waiting for you to finish for ages.

“Oh, you’re finally done? I was startin’ to grow old,” he teases, taking a sip of his water. “Do you know what you wanna order?”

“You’re annoying,” you reply, narrowing your eyes at him. “But I’m gonna get whatever you get.”

“Really? You don’t have any preferences?”

You shake your head. “I don’t eat sushi very often so I honestly don’t know what I should get. I’ll try anything, though.”

“You really did pick this place just for me, didn’t you?” He has a teasing tone to his voice, but his gaze has softened.

“I told you I owed you, didn’t I?”

At this, Harry just gives you a small smirk and signals the waitress over once again to order for the both of you. While you wait for your food to come, you fall into easy conversation with Harry again. It seems like you can talk about anything under the sun with him–– no topic was off-limits, and nothing was awkward. He had to have been one of the most interesting people you’ve ever met in your life. He was well-traveled, knew several languages, and loved to sing and write music in his spare time. Although you felt your own life was rather boring in comparison to his, he made you feel just as accomplished and interesting as he was.

“That was good,” he tells you after you’ve both finished eating, wiping his mouth with his napkin and slouching in his chair slightly. “Think ‘m gonna need to unbutton my pants here in a second.”

“Me too,” you answer with a laugh, making eye contact with the waitress. You mouth, ‘check, please’ and she nods, reappearing at your table with the check. As you’re digging in your purse to pull out your wallet, Harry reaches over and grabs the check before you can even look at it. He reaches in his pants pocket for his wallet and slides his card in before you’ve even looked back up.

“What are you doing?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Did you forget that I’m the one that owes you?” He shrugs.

“You can make it up to me another way. Don’t worry about it,” his voice is low and gravelly. The waitress comes back to collect the check from Harry and after he receives his receipt, he reaches into his wallet to place a cash tip for her on the table. “Ready to get home?”

Home. You know he only worded it that way because you live directly across from him, but you would like going “home home” with Harry, at least for tonight. There was no denying the sexual tension between the two of you was electric–– anyone who was paying attention to the two of you could probably sense it. You wordlessly nod and follow Harry out of the restaurant, intertwining your fingers with his when he holds his hand back for you to grab.

He stands on the curb and expertly hauls a cab, opening the door and gesturing your in ahead of him. Harry’s hand moves to rest on your leg as he makes small-talk with the taxi driver, asking him if he was having a busy night and how much longer he thought he’d be out for. Harry pays the cab fare and wishes the driver a good rest of his night before all but dragging you out of the taxi.

“What’s got you in such a rush?” You ask Harry, a teasing

“Oh? Did I misread the situation? I thought–– this is embarrassing, never mind…” his tight grip loosens on your hand but you pull him back into you, laughing at how adorable he was.

“Harry! I’m joking, I know what’s going on,” you rub your thumb across the top of his. “I was just messing with you.” You see him visibly let out a sigh of relief.

“Don’t mess with me like that, Y/N!” You’re still standing outside of your apartment complex in the dark, as close to one another as you can be without completely melting into each other. He releases his hand from your tight grip and places it gently on your face instead. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

“Please,” you reply breathlessly, standing on your toes. Harry cranes his neck to meet your lips and presses them to yours softly, pulling back only when the both of you are near gasping for air.

“Was that nice?” He asks, thumb caressing your face. Your noses are pressed together and you just nod, still too breathless to speak. “Maybe we can take this inside, then?”

Once inside Harry’s apartment, he nearly rips off the new shirt you bought specifically for your date with him, discarding it by his door.

“Careful with that,” you mutter, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I just got that today. Tag is still onnit.”

You feel Harry laugh into the side of your neck, walking your backward towards his couch. “I’ll cover the cost if it’s ruined then, how’s tha’?”

Harry sucks harshly on your neck, causing you to let out a low moan. “I guess that’s fine.”

“That’s fine?” Harry mocks you, guiding you onto the coach. You hum in agreement as you sink further down into the couch, letting out a sigh of bliss as he peppered kisses along your breast.

Your movements are needy— desperate. Neither one of you were trying to hide how badly you wanted to fuck the other. Harry smashing his lips onto yours once more, his breath warm and tongue salty from all the sushi he had earlier consumed. He attempts to pull his own shirt from his body while not breaking the kiss, and you let out a satisfied hum when he succeeds. Now you’re both shirtless and the only thing stopping you from fucking each other proper is being still fully clothed on your bottom halves.

“Can we get these off?” You ask, tugging at your own bottoms. Harry helps you pull down your tight jeans, struggling slightly to get them off your sweaty legs. Once your jeans are off your underwear follows immediately after, carelessly strewn around the room like the rest of your clothing.

“Y/N…” Harry hungrily takes the sight of your body in, eyes darkening with lust. “You might be the death of me, did ya know that?”

“I do now.”

He sucks on his index and middle fingers and lowers them down to your core, slipping them inside you with ease. You hadn’t realized how wet you were until Harry was knuckles deep, curling his fingers tantalizingly slow inside of you. “Do ya?”

You bite down hard on your lip, nodding at Harry’s rhetorical question. “Obviously.”

He flips the two of you over, so that you’re now straddling him and he’s laying below you. “Take what you want, then–– oh wait, condom?” You nod and move as Harry digs around in his pants, pulling out his wallet.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys that keeps a condom in their wallet.”

He rips it open with his teeth in one swift motion and unbuckles his pants, giving himself a couple of quick strokes before sliding it on. “What if I am? Was quick and effective, wasn’t it?” He rests his hands on your hips and pulls you back on top of him, connecting his lips with yours again. “Now you can take what you want.”

Your hands move up to grip Harry’s shoulders as you slowly sink onto him, wincing at the stretch and burn an unfamiliar partner sometimes brings. You make eye contact with Harry as you take a moment to adjust to his size, noting how his grip on your hips gets even tighter.

“S’big,” you mutter, rolling your hips slightly. Below you, Harry squeezes his eyes shut. “So big.”

“Tell me how badly you want it.”

“You already know. Don’t feel like being teased.”

Harry juts his hips up to meet you slamming down onto him, groaning out loudly from the pleasure the added motion brings. At one point he situates himself so he’s sitting straight up, using his left hand as a support for him to rest back on while his right hand is tweaking at your nipples. He’s letting out a slew of curse words, letting you know it felt just as good for him as it did for you.

“Ridin’ m’cock so good,” he says under his breath, bringing the hand that was playing with your nipples to rest in between your legs. Whenever you slam back onto him you feel him not only deep in the pit of your stomach but also on your clit, bringing you maximum pleasure. “Don’t be so quiet, let me know when ‘m makin’ you feel good, love.”

“I’m already close,” you admit, feeling a bit embarrassed at how it took Harry doing next to nothing to work an orgasm out of you. Well, not literally–– but it felt like it. “Feel s’good inside me, you’re so big.”

Harry lets out a low moan from your words, throwing his head back in pleasure. It hits the arm of his couch with a quiet thump but his pace doesn’t falter in the slightest. “You’re gonna make me cum if ya keep strokin’ my ego like that.”

“You asked for it,” you reply, changing your move from riding to grinding as you were starting to grow fatigued. “I’m close.” You remove your hands from his shoulders and let them roam the expanse of your body, wanting nothing more than to receive maximum pleasure.

“Can feel ya squeezin’ ‘round me,” Harry says, taking his lip in between his teeth. “Know you’re about to come, pet.”

"Harry..." you warn, your movements growing more desperate and sloppy. You weren't normally a selfish lover but your head was so clouded from pleasure, all you could think about at the moment was your release. Harry leans his head back on the couch again and now uses his two free hands to bring you to orgasm–– one is rubbing circles on your clit and the other one is gripping at your breasts as you use your last bit of strength to swivel your hips on him.

You're coming undone not ten seconds later, loudly moaning out the man's name who laid under you. You don't slow your movements, knowing he was right behind you.

"Y/N, fuck, 'm gonna come-" he lets out a low, guttural moan, coming immediately after announcing it.

The sounds of you trying to steady your breathing are the only sounds that fills the room as you both come down from your respective highs. Harry runs his hands along your bare body, eyes hooded from the orgasm that just wracked his body. As you’re beginning to uncurl yourself from Harry, he grabs your hand, pulling you back down.

“Will you stay the night?”

You didn’t know what sleeping with Harry meant for your relationship going forward, but you were glad you knocked on Apartment 41.