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changbunnies · 8 months ago

Text

Coy (18+)

♡ Pairing: Inexperienced!Bang Chan x Experienced Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: fluff and smut with a lil plot :)

♡ Word Count: 7.7k

♡ Summary: What occurs when joking about sex with your roommate leads to a shocking discovery about his lack of experience in the bedroom.

♡ Smut Warnings: not intended to have overt dom/sub dynamics but you can infer vibes if you want lol, chan is rlly insecure but reader is here to help!!, nipple play, handjob, oral (m rec), fingering (f rec), protected piv

♡ Notes: hey yall, i wanted to write something small and fun before my next big fic so here we are :’) honestly i was torn between writing this for chan or bin and ended up choosing chan but lmk if you'd want to see a fic like this for binnie! i went super perfectionist mode and rewrote this several times…. like at least 7 fsdgdsfg but i don't want it in my drafts anymore !! just take it !!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

All you said was a lighthearted joke– something said in jest to make your roommate-turned-best friend’s face flush red and burn all the way to the tips of his ears.

That was always the reaction Chan had when you brought up having had sex, you noticed; cheeks flushed red, eyes darting away from yours to look anywhere else, thumbs nervously twiddling where his hands rested in his lap. You assumed he had plenty of experience, but was more of a “heat of the moment” kind of guy– where you imagined he’d be confident and sure of himself with his partner, but talking about sex outside of the moment turned him into a shy, stuttering mess.

And it’s not that you purposely went out of your way to imagine what Chan was like during sex, but your mind would often wander there on its own. He was attractive, to put it lightly– devoted to fine-tuning his muscles with diligently followed routines and strictly maintained effort. You were witness to his toned body on more than one occasion, as he often wandered around the apartment shirtless while having just woken up or doing his laundry.

It was a treat for the eyes for sure, but you were respectful. You never drooled over him– at least not anywhere but in the privacy of your bedroom. But it wasn’t just his body that you adored; he had the absolute cutest smile you’d ever seen, eyes crinkling into the prettiest crescent moons as dimples showed on his cheeks. You loved his fluffy, natural hair, and the deep brown color of his eyes, and the way warmth radiated off him when he pulled you into a hug.

So maybe you have a crush on him– but you aren’t going to act on it. You live together in a careful balance, in which you are close enough to him to become good friends while also hiding your attraction to him to maintain the peace. God forbid he doesn't return your attraction, or he does and down the line it makes things complicated. The last thing you need is to scramble for a new place to live after things between you don’t work out– you’d never be able to afford it, and you’ll gladly swallow your feelings for home security.

But just because you couldn’t have sex with Chan, didn’t mean you couldn’t talk about it with him.

Chan is shy– that much you knew for certain. And sex, while a natural and fun part of life, is something that some people are embarrassed to be open about despite the normality. That's what you saw Chan as; a shy, easily embarrassed person. You thought it was so cute, and just a teensy bit funny; and with all that in mind, it was fun to tease him– to watch his eyes widen in surprise before he let out an awkward cough and looked away, hoping to hide the red forming on his cheeks.

So today, after bringing up how your last date ended, and seeing how brightly Chan’s face burned when you talked about the way they touched you, you couldn’t help but joke around with him. “Oh, c’mon Channie, don’t be coy. I know you’re drowning in pussy when I’m not here,” you teased him with a smirk. Considering your crush on him, you didn’t like to think about it too hard, but you did believe it– surely he brings people back to the apartment while you’re out on your dates.

“O-Oh, no, I’m not– I don’t–” he started to stutter out, and you giggled, because really, how could you believe anything else? He’s perfect– intelligent, funny, talented, as adorable as he is devastatingly hot; obviously he can get whoever he wants, and you believe he does– because Chan is certainly a fucking catch. But still, he continues to stammer and shake his head, blush spreading down his neck as he refutes your statement.

He isn’t a virgin, you have that much right; but he also isn’t some smooth operator hitting hookups with the classic “my roommate isn’t home 👀” text like you seem to think. He doesn’t even know why you think he’s secretly so cool– he’s only ever shown you the most embarrassing version of himself, much to his own chagrin. He’d like to be the person you think he is, but that’s simply not reality.

And as your giggling comes to a stop, and you really look at Chan and take in his expression, you can tell– he's being serious. "Oh," you blink in surprise, smacked with the realization that all your assumptions about him may have been entirely off base.

You frown, wondering if you've actually been making him uncomfortable this entire time. It was always meant to be in good fun, as you thought his bashful reactions were incredibly cute and endearing; but now you realize the truth. Chan isn’t shy about sex because he’s a private person– he’s shy about sex because he isn't having any.

Suddenly, you feel really embarrassed about all the times you talked about yourself; maybe it's karma for all the times you've subtly teased him. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable or crossed a line or anything, I didn't mean to, really–" You start to apologize, but Chan interjects, quickly shaking his head.

"N-No, no, you're fine! I just, uh–" he nervously stumbles on his words again, not even sure what he’s doing at this point. He doesn't even know why he refuted your joke so strongly– sure, it wasn’t true, but wouldn’t it be better for him if you believed it?

Chan likes you– like, really likes you; but he can't imagine someone as experienced and confident as you will go for a guy like him. Because while he isn't a virgin, his past experiences have been woefully cringe-inducing to even recall.

He was always so eager and clumsy, with trembling hands and face so red he was sure he looked like a tomato. He was embarrassingly sensitive, every touch feeling so overwhelmingly good that he could hardly contain all the noises threatening to leave his throat. He came so fast that he didn’t even know what to do with himself when it was all said and done, hiding his face beneath his arm while he muttered a string of low apologies.

And subjecting you to all of that? No thanks, falling off the face of the earth would be more preferable. You're the most sex positive person he's ever met, and you won’t make fun of him, he logically knows, but there’s part of him that fears it anyways. On top of that, apparently you had an extremely positive perception of his skills, and now he's ruined it.

While he's unsure what about him led you to believe he's desirable enough to have people biting at the chance to be with him, that impression, for better or worse, will never come back. So should he just be honest? Admit that he's actually really down bad for you but nowhere near confident enough to think he's enough for you?

That sounds like a bad idea. Terrible, even. Chan swallows as he looks at you, doing his best to ignore the way anxiety builds from deep in his gut. You're looking at him so patiently, caringly, that it makes his heart squeeze in his chest. Fuck it– he doesn't have to be completely honest and bear his heart on his sleeve, but he can trust you enough to admit a little bit of what he feels, right? If he can't confide in you then who else can he confide in?

"I just, uhm, I'm not very confident, I guess," he says after a careful breath, nervously scratching at the back of his neck as he darts his eyes away, "like.. in myself, or.. my skills, you know. So I just, uh.. don't have sex." You don't respond right away, simply blinking as you process the information, and regret starts to flood over the anxiety as Chan begins to overthink everything he’s admitted to you.

Really, you’re just shocked; Chan is sexy– like, really sexy. So the revelation that he isn’t confident in himself enough to enjoy sex to its fullest extent is baffling. He has such effortless charisma in other aspects of his life despite his shy nature, and you always assumed it carried over into his sex life; where his bashful looks and timid grins would melt away into someone confident and assured once the moment kicked off.

“I could help you,” you finally offer once the initial surprise wears off, and instantly his brain is short circuiting, not even realizing that his astounded “huh?” left him audibly. You didn't really plan on confessing your attraction to Chan this way, if ever, but well.. here you are.

"It's just– you're like, the hottest person I know. Seriously. And I don't care if you lack experience, I'd have sex with you regardless," you explain, a rare blush of your own beginning to heat your face, "So, yeah, you know– if you want me like I want you, then.." You start to trail off, but you think he gets what you were intending to say.

It's a bit embarrassing to be blushing yourself considering all the casual sex you have, but it's not your fault– Chan is the only person you've caught feelings for in years, so you can't help but blush a little. Chan, meanwhile, is still stunned; you're attracted to him? You want to have sex with him? Really?

On one hand, it's exciting– you want him, he wants you, and you don't care that he's inexperienced. But still, on the other hand.. With all the experience you have, don’t you want to sleep with someone who matches your energy? He can't imagine that you'd enjoy watching him fumble his way through your time together, or that he’d bring you any pleasure with his lackluster skills.

And what would your relationship be afterwards? Just friends and roommates who happened to fuck once, or something more? Will the mutual attraction die off the moment you realize his insecurities are way more than you signed on for?

“You don’t have to answer right now,” you assure him, offering all the time he may need to think about your proposition. Maybe it won’t be the most casual of your experiences considering your massive crush on him, but how could you pass up the chance to help him? Especially when helping means having sex with the guy of your dreams– because really, that’s what Chan is.

He wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans, swallows the lump in his throat, and takes a breath– because despite all his fears, he really likes you, and of course he wants to fuck you. Chan always figured he’d never have a chance with you unless you experienced a huge lapse in judgment; and maybe this is one and done, maybe it doesn't mean as much for you as it does for him, but he’ll still take that chance, insecurities be damned; he’d be a fool not to.

“I want to,” he tells you, soft and timid, but certain. You smile, equally as soft, as you inch closer to him on the sofa. “Can I kiss you?” you ask him, giggling when he quickly nods. It’s cute– equally as cute as the small, involuntary noise he makes from the back of his throat when your lips touch his. You start slow, pressing long, lingering kisses to his plush lips– as soft as you always imagined.

His breath hitches when you crawl onto his lap, pulling away to look at you with widened eyes. “Too much?” you ask, ready to pull yourself off of him but he quickly shakes his head. “You’re just–” he pauses, licks his lips as his face flushes a deeper pink, but continues “..so pretty. Really pretty. Can't believe this is really happening."

It feels a bit silly being so shy to tell you how pretty you are to him when you’ve been kissing him and are quite literally sitting on top of his dick, but he can’t help the way you make him feel. It’s a simple compliment too, one that normally wouldn’t affect you very much, but makes your heart pick up ever so slightly in speed regardless; you suppose because Chan is the one saying it.

You can tell he doesn’t know what to do with his hands when you kiss him again, keeping them clenched and firmly stuck to his side. You take them in your hands, guiding them to your body and resting them on your hips. “Touch me, Channie,” you breathe against his lips, “anywhere you want.”

“Anywhere..?” he questions with a shaky exhale, hands trembling where they rest on your body. “Mhm, want to feel you,” you tell him sweetly, and God, he already feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest before he’s even really begun. But he listens, hands carefully traveling up and down your body as you lean back in to continue kissing him.

You let your own hands wander as well– over his arms, across his chest, down the toned abs you can distinctly feel even beneath his sweater. You lick his bottom lip, feeling his body shiver beneath the tips of your fingers as he opens his mouth for you, letting your tongue inside.

He brings his hands to your chest, palming your breasts before he carefully squeezes them. You bring one of your hands to hover over his, encouraging him to continue by squeezing your hand atop his. He’s only touching you over your clothes, but he already feels impossibly dizzy from the excitement– he can’t even focus on how pathetic that would normally make him feel either, because your tongue in his mouth fogs his brain.

The next time you pull away, it’s to grab the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head so swiftly that Chan barely even has time to process what he’s about to see. He sucks in a breath as he looks at your tits; it doesn’t even matter that they’re still contained by a bra– it’s still more than enough to send him reeling. Pretty, pretty, pretty, is all he can think, his mind unable to conjure a thought any more complex than simple words.

You move your hands behind your back, ready to unhook your bra and expose yourself to him entirely, but he briefly stops you. “Can I– Can I try..?” he asks, clearly nervous but eager to try and prove himself in whatever way you’ll let him. “Course, Channie,” you smile at him as you let your arms fall back to your side, “go ahead.” You lean closer to him, bringing your hands to his shoulders as he brings his own to your back.

You press kisses to his jaw as you wait for him to act, eventually trailing down to his neck. It makes him gasp and bite his lip, the skin of his neck evidently more sensitive than he ever even realized. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, trying his best not to get too distracted by the feeling of your lips on the sensitive spots of his neck before he continues.

His fingers fumble with the hooks of your bra, his trembling hands causing his grip to slip more than once. It’s embarrassing how badly he’s failing at this simple task, but you pay no mind to it, continuing to kiss him as he takes his time to figure it out. You caress his arms, pulling away to reassure him when his shaking fingers mess up for the third time.

“Relax, baby, you’ve got it,” you tell him, the affectionate term unintentionally slipping out– but Chan seems to welcome it, offering you a soft smile and nod as he timidly tries again. He lets out the breath he was unconsciously holding when he finally succeeds, watching attentively as you bring your hands to the now loose straps, sliding them down your arms.

You toss your bra aside when your arms are freed from the straps, and Chan can’t help but stare at your now bare chest. He can count on a single hand the amount of tits he’s seen, so his thoughts may be a bit biased in your favor, but he firmly believes yours are the prettiest he’s ever looked at. Chewing on his bottom lip, he looks to you for permission to touch them again, which you easily grant him.

The soft noise you let out when his thumbs brush over your nipples both surprises him and makes his cock throb; he can still hardly even believe you’re really letting him touch you. “Is that good?” he asks as he does it again, intoxicated by the way you whimper and squirm. “Mhm, feels good. Feels better when they’re wet, though,” you tell him, watching as the gears turn in his brain.

He licks his lips and leans down, bringing his face to your chest. He sticks out his tongue, slowly swiping it against one of your hardened nipples, eyes glued to your face as he does. “This what you want?” he asks, repeating the action when you gasp and nod. You thread your fingers through his hair, another whimper leaving you as he wraps his lips around your nipple and swirls his tongue around it.

You reach for his other hand and bring his fingers to your mouth, licking and coating them in your saliva. He whines at the feeling of your tongue sliding against his fingers, his imagination running wild with images of what it’d feel like on different parts of his body. Once satisfied with the wetness of his fingers, you take them from your mouth and bring them back down to the nipple currently not in his mouth. “Use them to touch me, please–”

Chan wastes no time in doing what you ask, a soft whine escaping him when you gently tug on his hair. His cock is painfully hard and straining against his jeans that are now uncomfortably tight around him. You can feel it pressing against your ass, his eyes fluttering shut when his treatment of your nipples cause you to squirm and rub against his erection. The friction is overwhelming, your noises are intoxicating, the combination makes him dizzy with need for more.

More of your touch on his skin, more of your pretty whimpers in his ear, more of anything and everything you’re willing to give him, he wants it all. Soon you’re reaching for the hem of Chan’s sweater, and he separates from you, allowing you to pull it up and over his head, discarding it to the floor with the rest of your clothing. You admire him, trace his pecs and his abs with your fingers, smiling at him sweetly when he shivers beneath your touch.

“You’re so handsome, Channie,” you tell him as you continue to run your fingers along his torso, “so hot, you have no idea how bad I’ve wanted you.” He whines and turns his face away, a vain attempt to hide the heat that rises to it. “That’s– I-I.. didn’t know..” he mumbles shyly, hesitant to meet your gaze again– mostly because he thinks his heart will burst if he looks at you while you’re saying things like that to him.

He doesn’t know how he’s ever going to be able to look at you without going red in the face after this, or how he’s going to be able to hear your voice again without his cock getting hard. Better yet, how is he going to look at you without thinking about how bad he wants you to be his, or for him to be yours? Either way, that’s a problem for the future– because your hands and lips are all over him, and that’s what he wants to focus on now.

Chan sucks in a breath when your hand brushes his erection over his jeans, bites his lip when you start to undo the button, lets out a shaky exhale as you begin to pull down the zipper. He’s not sure what you’ll think of his length, but he hopes you like it, prays that it’s enough to satisfy you. “You should have more confidence in yourself, Channie,” is the first thing you say as you take it in your hand, “you’ve got the prettiest cock I’ve ever seen.”

“W-What? No way, that’s– you’re just saying that,” he pouts, the blush covering his face and ears becoming unbearably hot. You can’t mean that– he almost refuses to believe it; because he simply can’t comprehend that you would prefer him to anyone else. “I’m not, baby. I mean it,” you tell him, and the way he throbs in your hand gives away that he likes the compliment, even if he doesn’t entirely believe it’s true.

You really are being honest; it’s not the longest you’ve ever had, but it’s among the thickest, with pretty veins that accentuate it. You want to trace them– with your fingers, your lips, your tongue, everything. And then there’s the way his pre-cum leaks from the tip, steadily dripping and pooling where it falls-–all you can say is that it’s mouth-watering. The look in your eyes makes Chan feel impossibly shy, and it takes everything within him not to cover his face when your eyes meet again.

He never imagined that look would be for him; that he would ever be deserving of your touch and affectionate words. And the sweet smile you offer him when you start to earnestly stroke his cock– he’s done for, absolutely done for. He’ll never be able to hide how bad he wants you after this– maybe he should listen to you and gain some confidence, ask you to be his before someone else steals you away.

Chan quickly loses his ability to form coherent thought once you start picking up your pace however, your hand having quickly become slick from his pre-cum. His head falls back against the sofa, breaths growing more and more labored with each stroke of your soft, warm, wet hand. You can feel his thighs twitch beneath you, and the way his hips jolt up to try to seek further friction from your hand, though your weight atop his legs prevents him doing so.

“Want you in my mouth,” you tell him, pleased with the way the words make him gasp and squirm, “You want that, Channie? Will you let me suck you off?” Fuck, do you even have to ask? As if there is any reality in which he would ever say no; you can have him, all of him, he doesn’t care as long as it’s you– he’ll never deny you any part of him. “Yeah, yeah, want that, please,” he breathes, an almost shameless plea for you to do whatever you want with him.

You offer him a pretty smile, placing a quick but affectionate kiss to his lips before you remove yourself from his lap. Sinking to your knees, you pull Chan’s jeans and boxers down his legs and to his ankles, and wait for him to step out of them and spread his legs wide enough for you to fit between them. There’s an apprehensive look in his eye when you scoot closer to him, and you pause, looking up at him with concern. “Are you nervous?” you ask, ready to stop at a moment’s notice if he needs you to.

“Ah, yeah, sorry, I just–” he pauses, an awkward, nervous laugh leaving him as he averts his gaze away from yours, “I just.. ‘m worried I’m gonna cum too fast when you.. Uh, yeah, you know.” He feels a bit pathetic admitting it, and he keeps his eyes locked on a random corner of the room, still holding onto the irrational fear that you’ll judge or laugh at him. Of course, you do neither– you simply lean forward on your knees, reaching a hand up to touch his face and bring his eyes back to yours.

“Don’t worry about that, I won’t mind if you cum fast, okay? It won’t bother me, and I won’t be mad. Just enjoy yourself,” you tell him earnestly, smiling sweetly at him when he slowly nods. You want to show him that you’re more than happy to take care of him until he gets the confidence in himself he needs, that there’s no shame in feeling so good that he can’t help but let go, that you’ll want him regardless.

You settle back on your knees, rubbing your hands up and down his thighs until you feel like his nerves have settled. He nods to you when he’s ready, and you give him one last smile before you bring your face directly to his waiting cock. The kisses you place to the tip are already enough to have him gasping and squirming in his seat– soft, delicate, and wet. Your fingers hold him at the base, keeping it held in place even as it twitches in response to every kiss you leave behind.

You stick out your tongue, let spit dribble down and further wet his leaking tip, and it’s positively the most erotic thing Chan has ever witnessed; he has to cover his face to stop himself from losing his mind. Head fallen back against the sofa with his arm thrown over his face, he gasps once more when he feels your tongue press against his skin. You lick slowly– whether to savor the taste or prolong the moment, Chan is unsure, but he welcomes it either way.

He can’t suppress the throaty groan that leaves him when you drag your tongue across the entirety of his length, tracing the veins with it just as you wished to. “O-Oh my god, baby–” he gasps when you finally start to take his cock into your mouth, too far gone to realize that he too let the pet name slip out. You don’t seem to mind, at least; after all, despite this “casual” encounter, you’ve already done the same, and been more affectionate than he ever anticipated.

Chan wants to believe you’re affectionate just with him; that none of your other casual partners have ever been looked at the way you’ve looked at him, that you never called them sweet names or given them such caring glances. Maybe he’s feeding himself a delusion, but he wants to believe you want him as bad as he wants you– beyond just the physical. He wants to believe this isn’t just a one time thing, and most of all he wants to believe that you’ll fall in love with him.

Is it normal to think about love when your cock is deep down your crush's throat? He doesn’t know– but all he can think about, apart from how amazing your mouth feels, is how much he loves and adores you. Letting his arm fall back to his side, he lifts his head from the sofa to look at you once more, and fuck, what a site you are. Eyes glassy and pretty as you gaze up at him through your lashes, cheeks flushed red, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth.

The sounds you make as you bob your head are so salacious it makes his head spin, his thighs tremble with each motion of your tongue on the underside of his length, and every time his tip touches the back of your throat he can’t help but let out a moan. His fingers struggle to find purchase on the sofa’s cushion, so instead he clenches his fist, knuckles quickly turning white. You notice, of course, so you bring one of your hands to his, intertwining your fingers and letting him squeeze your hand instead.

God, that fucks with his heart– but he hardly has any time to dwell on it. He’s barely been holding back his orgasm, and he’s not sure how much longer he can last. “Babe, baby, feels so good, I can’t– o-oh, please, ‘m gonna cum–” he babbles his warning, whimpering when you hum in response and continue to take him as deep into your mouth as he can go. His eyes roll back, cock throbbing and entire body trembling– and one more swipe of your tongue and swallow around his length is all it takes to have him cumming.

“O-Oh my– fuck, fuck, sorry, ‘m cumming, baby–” he rambles, thankfully too far gone to be embarrassed by all the things he’s saying to you. You swallow all he has to give you, not pulling off him until he starts to come down from his high and cock begins to soften. He’s dazed and breathless as he looks at you, chest heaving as his brain tries to recalibrate itself after how good you just made him feel.

You rise from your knees and set yourself back on the sofa, leaning towards Chan to kiss him after he’s caught his breath. He can taste himself on your lips, but he doesn’t hate it; there’s a strange part of him that even enjoys it. “‘m sorry,” he mumbles with a nervous pout when you pull away, “I tried to hold it back, but..”

“Channie, I told you not to worry about that. It felt good, right? That’s all that matters,” you tell him, directing him to look at you when he tries to avert his gaze again. He swallows the anxiety down, trying to look at you without feeling like disappearing into a void. But he can tell after just a moment how sincere you’re being, and it spreads relief through his veins. It’s not that he really doubted you, but his internal dialogue is far from rational.

You’ve been so good to him since the start, and though he’s incredibly shy and equally as nervous, there’s nothing more he wants now than to return the favor. He still doubts he’s good enough to give you what you deserve, to skillfully make you cum and cry out for him, but he’ll try– God, he’ll fucking try.

It takes all the confidence he can muster to speak what he wants to say, but he thankfully manages alright. “I want, uh– ..w-want to make you cum too,” he admits, doing his best to hold your gaze despite the way shyness claws at him and his blush burns his face. “Yeah?” you smile, honestly pretty eager to let Chan touch you more.

While you were more than ready to keep taking the lead, to guide him along and take care of him, you’re happy to see a surge of confidence in him– even if it’s a small one. “Touch me then, Channie. Make me cum,” you tell him as you beckon him closer, letting out a soft, content hum when he kisses you. You let him guide you back until your back is flat against the sofa, spreading your legs so that he can nestle between them.

You can feel his hands trembling again as they travel your body, but Chan doesn’t let the nerves prevent him from hooking his fingers into your pants. He continues to kiss you as he slides them down your legs, along with your panties– not just because he loves kissing you, but also because he’s not quite ready to look at your bare pussy; he genuinely thinks his heart will give out if he doesn’t mentally prepare himself first.

Pretty soon though, he does have to separate from you so he can let you slip your feet out of your clothes, and subsequently toss them to the floor with all the rest of your discarded clothing. He tries to keep his eyes locked on your face, but he can’t help but let his eyes trail down and roam over the rest of your exposed body. He’s mesmerized in an instant; you’re so impossibly pretty, every inch of you breathtaking and beautiful and– God, just perfect.

He knows his words will fail him, so he hopes his lips on yours will do enough of the talking for him, hopes that he can show how bad he adores and desires you with actions alone. You intended initially to let him take his time, but you’ve been impossibly wet and worked up this entire time; and besides, doesn’t he need a little push?

So you take one of his hands, guiding it to your dripping center. Chan lets out an involuntary whine from the back of his throat, body shivering in response. “Y-You’re so– oh my god, how are you so wet?” he asks, as in awe of you as he is surprised. “You, baby,” you answer, voice growing shakier now that he’s rubbing his fingers between your folds, “I told you, you– you’re so handsome, you know? Get me so hot, ‘ve wanted you so bad.”

God, he still can’t believe it– how is it possible that you’ve wanted him as bad as he’s wanted you? And there’s no way his insecurities can make him believe you’re just saying it to make him feel good about himself anymore, because he can feel the proof of your words with his fingers. “Tell me– tell me what you like, what you want, please,” he softly pleads, “need to make you feel good.”

“Inside, want your pretty fingers inside me,” you tell him, shivering when you feel the tips of his fingers pressing against your hole. He starts slow and careful, gently pushing one of his fingers inside, alternating between watching his hand and looking up to your face. You’re so slick and warm, and the way you squeeze around even just one of his fingers makes his head spin– because he can’t help but imagine how you’d feel on his cock.

“Another, add another, please,” you all but beg once you’re adjusted to how one feels, and he wastes no time in obliging you, delighting in the way it makes your eyes flutter closed. You bite your lip when he starts to instinctively move his fingers faster, little whimpers escaping as your breaths become heavier. “You sound so pretty,” he says, gasping when he realizes it caused you to clench harder around his fingers.

Do you like when he talks to you? He doesn’t know if it’s his voice you like, or what he said in particular, but if you like it then he won’t stop. “F-Feels so amazing, I can’t– can’t stop thinking about what you’d feel like around me, want it so bad, want to be inside you,” he starts to ramble, doing his best to voice everything that comes to his mind, anything he thinks you’ll like and will have you clenching again, even if it embarrasses him to say it.

He experiments with his fingers as he talks to you– changing angles and curling his fingers, trying to find what you like the best. You gasp when he finds your spot with the tips of his fingers, body trembling and back arching. “R-Right there, fuck, feels so good, Channie, your fingers feel so good,” you tell him breathlessly, and he can’t help the way he stiffens and throbs once more in response.

And really, how is he supposed to look at the way you shake beneath him, hear your pretty voice praise the way he’s touching you, and not get hard again? He wants nothing more than to make you cum– to make you cry and writhe in pleasure for him, because of him; almost desperate for it, he hits your spot over and over again, hoping to bring you closer and closer to the release you both crave.

He’s mesmerized by the way your eyes roll back, by the rise and fall of your chest and tremble of your thighs; addicted to the way your moans and whimpers grow higher in pitch, and the messy, wet sounds his fingers create between your legs. Chan glances down to your pussy, taking notice of your puffy, neglected clit.

He wants to taste it, to wrap his lips around and let his tongue lavish it, but he doesn’t trust himself to be able to get down smoothly or without messing up his rhythm; so instead, he brings his thumb to it– something he’s seen done in porn that woman always seemed to like (and he desperately hopes you like it too.) Thankfully, he gets the effect he was hoping for– you let out a whimper and squirm, nails digging into his skin.

Chan doesn’t let up even when his wrist begins to grow sore, running purely on desire and instinct. “F-Fuck, Channie, baby, ‘m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum,” you gasp out, voice whiny and strained, but still oh so pretty in his ears. He can’t believe he’s actually going to make you cum, can’t believe how lucky he is; and he's utterly transfixed on the way your body moves, drunk on the sounds that freely spill from you.

He gasps when you reach out and unexpectedly pull him closer, letting out a soft, surprised whine when you eagerly crash your lips into his. It’s the messiest kiss he’s ever had, tongues dancing and drool falling from the corners of your mouth, hot and heavy breaths passed between each other. Your thighs squeeze his hand as your orgasm takes you, entire body shaking as your back arches off the sofa, arousal gushing and further coating his fingers.

Chan slowly slides his fingers out of you as you catch your breath, meeting your gaze shyly when you open your eyes to look at him once more. He’s so fucking hard, again, and you instantly notice, much to his embarrassment. He wants to fuck you, there’s no denying it– but he can’t help but continue to feel self-conscious, even now.

You sit up and kiss him once more, as if to dispel all doubts and worries from his racing mind. “Want you, Channie,” you tell him, voice soft, sweet, and reassuring, “do you still want me? Wanna fuck me?” He whines from deep in his throat, knowing he’d never be able to deny it, even if he wanted to.

“Yes, God, yes, wanna fuck you,” he answers honestly, nervously chewing on his bottom lip, “b-but I– I just.. don’t want to disappoint you.” He’ll never forgive himself if he fucks this up and leaves you wanting and unsatisfied; he wants to be nothing less than perfect for you and he already knows that he isn’t.

“Channie, baby, look at me,” you say as you reach a hand to his cheek, urging him to meet your eyes again, “you won’t disappoint me, you could never.” You place soft, comforting pecks to his lips, holding his hands and rubbing soothing circles with your thumbs until you feel him start to lose his tension. “Remember what I said? Don’t worry about anything but feeling good. I want you to cum again,” you tell him, smiling as he nods, his face flushing a deeper red.

Leaning towards the coffee table, you reach for where you dropped your purse before sitting down with Chan, digging around inside until you find one of the spare condoms you make sure to keep for your dates. He swallows as he watches you pull it out, beyond nervous but equally as excited to finally feel you wrapped around him.

Even just watching you tear open the packaging is enough to have him trembling, and when you glance at him to make sure he’s ready, he ignores his insecurities the best he can to offer you a timid smile. You return the smile, taking his cock in your hand and giving it a few slow pumps to make sure he’s ready. He squirms and softly whines, still sensitive from his previous orgasm, but there’s no way he’s going to let that stop him from having this moment with you.

He shivers when you easily roll the condom down his length, biting his lip as you crawl back onto his lap after you’ve finished. His heart is beating fast and erratic, and he wonders if you can hear how loudly it’s thumping against his chest. He lies half propped up by one of the sofa’s cushions, looking up at you with eyes akin to a puppy, watching your every move with bated breath.

You reach between your bodies to hold his cock at the base, angling it with your still soaked entrance. You let go once you start to sink down on it, moving your hand to his chest to support yourself as his cock pushes inside. “Oh, fuck–” Chan lets out a choked gasp, already overwhelmed by the sensation even before you’re fully sat on his length.

Even with a condom on, he can still feel how warm and wet you are, your walls squeezing him so tight it takes his breath away. “Fuck, baby, oh my god, it already feels so good, what the fuck–” he gasps again once your hips are flush together. He doesn’t remember it feeling this amazing the last time he had sex; is it because he’s more sensitive from before? Or is it because it’s you?

No matter the answer, he’s certain of one thing– and that’s that he’s definitely going to cum fast; he just hopes you meant it when you said it’s okay. He lets out an obscenely loud moan when you start to lift and drop your hips– one that would normally make him extremely embarrassed, but he feels way too good to even focus on it; all he can think about is how fucking good you feel.

His hands squeeze your hips, and he looks at you with stars in his eyes. How can you be so pretty, so beautiful? How can you feel this good? The way he’s looking at you makes your heart stutter and pussy clench, an act that makes Chan’s head fall back against the cushion as he moans. He’s so handsome, with the way his curly hair clings to his forehead with sweat, his bitten lips and flushed cheeks– it's insane that he can't see how crazy for him you are.

You lean forward to kiss him, bringing one of your hands up to thread your fingers through his hair as your tongue slips past his parted lips. He feels dizzy with pleasure, each of his loud moans and whines muffled only by your lips on his. You’re both panting by the time you separate, with you falling forward and burying your face into his neck.

Your legs and knees quickly begin to scream at you, but you ignore it as best you can in favor of chasing pleasure, bouncing on his cock with all the energy you can muster. You know he won’t last much longer– he was already sensitive to start, and you can feel him twitching and throbbing more and more with each additional motion of your hips.

“Baby, ‘m so close–” Chan whimpers, eyes rolling back when you clench around him harder. “Yeah? Gonna cum again for me, Channie? Gonna cum with me?” you ask as you snake your hand between your bodies, rubbing your clit in quick circles so that you can cum together. He quickly nods and bites his lip, hands squeezing you tighter and hips rising to chase you every time you lift off him.

It only takes a couple more rolls of your hips to have him cumming again, white, hot pleasure coursing through his veins and overwhelming every inch of his body, filling the condom with all he has to give. You follow quickly behind, hips stuttering and losing all sense of rhythm as you ride out your release.

You collapse against his chest with a heavy sigh once you’re done, utterly exhausted from all the effort, but completely satisfied. You’re both breathless, eyes closed as you collect yourselves and racing hearts start to return to normal speed. Well, in Chan’s case it doesn’t completely return to normal; because you’re still naked on top of him, and even after having just had sex, he still can’t believe you’re here with him right now like this.

You lift your hips and let his softening cock slide out of you, laying on Chan’s side with his arm as support so you don’t fall off the sofa. You carefully remove the condom, tying it off and preparing it to be thrown away once you’re ready to get up– for now, you’re too tired to move, and you just want to stay next to Chan for as long as you can.

You lay your leg across his body, cuddling close to him while he continues to support your weight with his arm. “How was it? Fun?” you ask him, smiling when he blushes and looks away, still unable to help being shy even after all you just did together. “Of course, you’re.. incredible,” he answers honestly, chewing on his lip before he continues, “But, were you– ..was I good enough for you..?”

“Channie, are you kidding? You were perfect, I promise,” you assure him, giggling softly when he breathes a sigh of relief. “You get stuck in your head too much, baby,” you continue, absentmindedly tracing circles in his skin as you speak, “I promise you, you could have anyone you want. I mean it when I say you’re perfect.” He still doesn’t quite believe what you’re saying is true, but he can at least accept that you believe it.

But he wonders if you know– it’s not just anyone he wants, but you. He was only able to do this because it was you that offered-–anyone else, and he would’ve instantly turned them down, or wouldn't have been able to enjoy himself if he did accept. Looking at you now reaffirms what he’s long since thought– you’re the only one for him.

“Baby, I want you to be mine-–want you to be my girlfriend,” is what he wants to say– but Chan is much too shy, and can’t bring himself to do it. “C-Can we– can we do this again sometime..?” is what he ends up saying insead. And you smile as you nod, sweetly running your fingers through his messy curls before you give him another kiss, “Course, baby. Anytime you want me, I’m yours.”

network tags: @skzstarnet @ksmutsociety

#“something small” i say as i write 5k more words than intended of pure smut #ksmutsociety #skzstarnet #skz x reader #bang chan x reader #skz smut #bang chan smut #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz fanfic #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune

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sstrwbrryccke · 5 months ago

Text

— bullying him pt.4 | sub soobin

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

tags: loser!nerd!soobin x bully!mean!reader, gn reader, sadistic reader, masochistic soobin, dubcon, hate fingering, sadist x masochistic relationship, mutual pining, mild violence, hurt w comfort, mean dirty talk, reader's genitals are unclear and can be interpreted as either a cock or a strap, misunderstandings, public bathroom indecency, bdsm, happy ending!!!

the long await part 4 is here!! i tagged everyone who wanted a part 4 i hope you aren't too irritated by the tag >.< i did this very tired and sleep deprived so i hope it makes sense HAHAHA

tags: @yaegerphobic @strwbrryjaem @ke4s @sk104kx @bennybenten @queer-n-here @sleeping143 @browni-bin @skinnyzlegendz @roturo @zuzuhasablog

something changed after that date, you could feel it, soobin could feel it and the other classmates felt it too. it was the lingering touches, the maintained gazes during class. the way he dared to stare for just a second longer. you didn't want to admit it, and it was initially easy to ignore the problem. it's not like you weren't used to overlooking soobin. he was simply an accessory in your eyes, what's the use in admiring the shine of a singular gem on a sapphire bracelet?

though, perhaps your dismissiveness was your greatest achilles heel after all. in the end, an undeniable itch would creep up on the back of your neck. like a minuscule mosquito sting that would bloom into large red welts. it started irritating you to a degree. sure you were blatantly ignoring the man, but can a contradiction not be such opposing parallels?

because how dare he, even for a second, ignore you back?

maybe it was the small sigh of relief he let out when you passed by, or the way he kept his head down low when he exited the class. when did it start to bother you so much?

no way. he would come running back. he always did and he always will, you know it in your bones, he will come back he will. what's a victim without a bully? a nerd without a jock??? a locker without a dim-witted loser to push into????????

you will wait it out, wait for him to come out crawling and kneeling, grasping at your leg like a devout to their divine deity— prayers forcing their way frantically out of his mouth.

but seconds tick by, days even, and suddenly it's been two weeks already with no movement. all silent on the battlefront. is this what it's like for drinks to fizzle out at the bottle of a can? when a songbird no longer sings for the morning sun? and the stars no longer shine for the moon? and whatever next poetic quote that rhymes with moon?

damn, what a sad and pathetic way to conclude it. so this is the ending chapter of the depressing story of a mega fluke and his cool fling.

is what you would say if you were the cowardly choi soobin!!!

because you weren't a pussy, and you certainly weren't one to give up on your pride. so be it, if he wants you to come to him, you'll give it to him.

☆★☆

your glare bore holes into the hunched back of choi soobin. now see, normally you wouldn't even gift that loser a glance in his direction, too risky to pay him attention and blow the cover of your unconventional connection after all. but this was a special occasion, and you felt like your nerves were lit on fire, like a hormonal teenager going through puberty again. it was abnormal for everyone else too, many did not even know the unimportant side character soobin was even associated with you, arguably the most interesting (or maybe the right word is known) person in the classroom.

the metal keys weigh heavy in your uniform pants (retrieved from the staffroom after many great excuses to convince your teacher), waiting for the right moment to pounce. come on soobin, you dare him to move. fall right into the metal prongs.

"—dude, hey— HEY!" one of your friends, kiwoo, shook your shoulder, hard enough that you broke your gaze just for a second. you snap your head at him, giving him an irritated look that makes him retreat his hand.

"what's with you?" he says, suspicious, "you've been glaring at soobin ever since he entered the classroom. what? he gave you bad head or something?"

"not funny." you roll your eyes.

"is there something happening between the two of you? it doesn't feel like a simple errand boy situation anymore. you're not nonchalant and mysterious for ignoring the question by the way."

you groan, this really wasn't the time for it. what kind of excuse can you even give him? that the weird situationship you had with soobin backfired and now you're acting like an angsty possessive insecure spouse trying to get him back? tough shit.

"it's not even that deep, kiwoo. he just pissed me off this morning, that's all." you scoff out an excuse, hoping that's enough to deter your nosy friend. you look back at where soobin was seated— shit where did he go?!

"what did he do now?—" "not the time, he's gone, where did he go?" you look around, irritation seeping into your voice.

"chill, he probably just went to the b—"

you stand up, muttering another alibi before dashing out of the classroom. you catch a glimpse of his white shirt turning the corner, bingo, he's headed to the restroom! your heart thumps in your throat as you approach the bathroom, was the dominos actually falling into place? you can't believe your stupid plan was working.

once you reach the entrance, you silently take a breath, getting ready for the confrontation. you step in, closing the restroom door behind you with the keys, and you hear an all too familiar gasp as the lock sets into place.

"oh, you, the door,"

his stupid voice stutters out (you missed hearing it), shaky eyes meeting yours. he was sweating visibly, like this was a horror game and he just came face to face with the final boss.

"so—sorry wrong room!" he turns around like an npc reciting a practised line, only to be met with the tile wall, what a dumb bunny. when he pivots back around, you are already eye-to-eye with him. his voice hitches, a pathetic excuse for a squeal, and the world spins— you pin him into the wall right behind him. he would crumble onto the floor right there if it weren't for your hands holding his wrists up.

there was a moment of silence between you two, his eyes scattering around as if the gum on the floor was suddenly so much more interesting than the person in front. he bites his bottom lip in fear.

"oh stop it i told you before to not bite your chapped lips." the first words exchanged, a command that he obeys immediately like following your words was as natural as breathing. you forgot how satisfying it was to order him around.

"care to explain why you're avoiding me?" your tone sharp and cutting; as if you were physically pressing a knife up against his chest. he tries to talk. lip trembling, eyes closing, but all that comes out is a fearful whimper. you click your tongue in irritation, releasing one of his wrists— which limply drops to his side like a ragdoll. using your free hand you grab his face, forcing him to look at you.

"answer."

he tears up, sniffling as he tries not to sob. "m' sorry... i—i'm sorry for ignoring you."

you felt a pang in your heart, you can't tell if it was guilt or anger. "shit quit apologising and just answer my question. why were you avoiding me."

his shoulders were raised all the way up as if he was expecting you to smack him across the cheek, his whole body was wrecked with trembles and you're impressed he wasn't full-on sobbing yet. his face was red and holy shit no fucking way he was hard. what a strong sense of deja vu, wasn't this exactly how this whole mess started in the first place? you just stare at him for a minute, shaking and quivering with a bulge, no answer on his tongue.

"are you fucking for real? what'd i expect from a masochistic dog. of course, you're getting off from this." you grit your teeth, was he just using you for a quick jerk? that this was his kink this whole time and he only ever saw you as a fuck partner? did he ignore you simply so you would snap and give him exactly what he wants???

and for some reason, you felt betrayed, as if there was actually some relationship between you two. how hypocritical too, did you not also see soobin as sexual relief? wasn't he supposed to be an obedient mouth that opened for your dick? why was your fist clenching and veins pumping as if you caught your long-term partner cheating???

"maybe the only way to get shit through your thick skull is to fuck it out of you huh? bend you over in front of everyone with your ass out as you get fucking drilled by a big fat cock? is that what you want?" your words come out forced and throbbing red with anger.

"i—"

you clasp a rough hand over his throat, though you didn't actually squeeze, he shuts up immediately, eyes wide and fingers quivering. you almost rip his pants down, taking his underwear as well in one swift motion. he snivels pathetically, helplessly being led around as you savagely grasp his hair. you pull him to the sink, forcing him to bend over in front of the mirror. he desperately clutches the edges of the sink with a grunt, otherwise he might be toppled over by your rough handling. his body leaning down with his elbows bent onto the sink edge.

you grip his hair, painfully hard, his scalp must be killing him. you lift his head up until he's staring at his face in the reflection. it was like a brush with scarlet paint used his face as a canvas. his cheeks red and trembling. tears bulge on the edge of his eyes, threatening to slip out any second. his lips long-bitten and bleeding.

"keep staring at your slutty self. watch how pathetic and ugly you're gonna look when you get your organs fucked out. if you break your gaze even for a second i'll fucking kill you."

you cuss with every malevolence in your soul, for a second soobin thinks you might actually kill him. he holds in his breath as if one more sound from him will settle the hatred in your heart and murder him. you spit down onto his ass, watching as it dribbles down, you abruptly prod at his hole. not waiting like you would before. breaking through the rim and forcing your finger in like an intruder.

he loudly groans out in agony, body shuddering and wavering. you smack him over the head. "quit moving so much. shit, i wasted so many stupid gifts on you. and to think i was saving up the actual fucking for something more special. like we were actually a couple or something. but now you're gonna get your organs reorganised in a public bathroom. i guess that's suiting for a whore like you."

he grits his teeth in pain, trying to endure the pain and the humiliation for you. he stares at himself in the mirror in despair, brows furrowed and his vision blurry, his glasses were knocked off his nose from all the movement, but he keeps looking at himself just like you commanded. not trying to disobey you. why did he do that for you? it pissed you to new heights. why was he still acting like he was a goodie two shoes who didn't want to displease you?

you thrust the finger in and out with no care, barely being assisted by your makeshift lube to slide against his walls. his soft whimpers barely slipping out. you press another finger against his hole and this time he does stir, he jerks away. incoherent protests come out when he feels the second finger try to enter.

"break! a break! please give me uh a break b—before the second!" he begs, on the verge of breaking into full sobs.

"what makes you think you can bargain?"

he shivers at your harsh words, head hanging in shame. it was so pathetic, you feel a small semblance of pity, spitting more on his ass to assist the second. but you weren't merciful by any standard and promptly slid the two fingers in.

his shoulders shake, feeling full already with the two fingers. tears finally slip out in both overwhelming pain and pleasure. he hadn't touched himself ever since the last time you two met.

your ruthless fingers pump in and out of his ass like you were digging for his stomach, violently pressing against his prostate. it hurts like crazy. a primal and animalistic type of pain. but oh man, the electricity zipping through his body was hitting all the right places. it felt so wrong yet so right. like he belonged here pressed underneath your feet and hands. this felt like pleasure. his dick was tall and alert, pent up and ready to burst. his body begged for more while his mind was praying for mercy.

he thrashes around with each new thrust, being unable to control his body as a guttural wail forces its way out of his mouth. the slopping of skin slapping skin fills your ears. you grunt as you tighten your hold on his hair, trying to get him to stop moving. the more you ram your fingers into his prostate, the more frantic he becomes, one of his hands coming up to weakly pry at your hand holding his hair. you let go of your grip on his scalp to instead pull his body flush against your chest, hand snaking to the front and onto his throat. your fingers ceasing to stop with its insane momentum.

"please— no more— have me—mercy! i'm so sorry i'm so sorry i'm sorry—" he begs endlessly, sobbing and shaking his head, struggling against your hold.

you ignore his pleas, hand trailing down from his throat to his lower stomach, you can feel the movement of your fingers. suddenly, you push your palm down on his lower abdomen, right above his prostate. just as your two fingers press into the glands. he cries out, head blanking into sparks of light and stars. his cock spasming as he spurts out white stripes, shooting onto the mirror. his hands that were frantically prying at your wrists limps down.

your lips curl into a cruel smile, a sense of satisfaction raking over your body. you slid your two fingers out of his hole. a scoff comes out, naturally.

"hah. you came? i wasn't even trying to pleasure you, and you came like a little..."

your nasty words drift off as you look at him in the mirror. the room is now uncomfortably quiet, only the weeping and sobbing of soobin echoing in the restroom. he looks like a wreck, not in a sexy, sweaty way. but in a heart-hanging, guilt-tripping way. his face was painted with tears, snot and substance. eyes closed and afraid to look up at you. his body exhausted and leaning against you, he didn't even have the energy to quiver.

you did this to him, you absolutely ruined his pretty face and his sweet eyes. you actually deserve hell. what was wrong with you? how could you do this to someone so cute and precious? soobin deserved the world and so much more, he deserved everything good and nice and sweet and right on this earth. but what happened at that moment, how did you get here?

suddenly it was like your throat was constricted and swollen, lips dry with unsaid words. what do you say? apologise? promise to leave him alone forever?

"i..."

"i'm sorry..." he beats you to it with shaky words.

"holy shit no— no no, don't apologise." you quickly mumble, holding him up.

"i— i was scared, i didn't know how you would react. because i think, i think i'm insane, i don't know what's wrong with me. i'm scared you would be disgusted" his words tumble out breathlessly, you just stare silently in shock.

"i'm sorry— i don't get myself either, because everything about you drives me crazy and i can't be around you— i know i'm a masochistic dog but i just can't help it— no matter what you do to me makes me like you more, d—don't hate me please. i'm such a freak—" his words are barely coherent as he sobs.

"shh shhh shh it's okay, calm down soobin, calm down." you try to comfort him, beyond confused and shocked. he's crying so hard he's hiccuping and stammering. you help him lean on a wall and he slides down, you frantically kneel down to try and ground him.

"i— i don't want you to hate me— but your attention just feels so good to me— anything— any attention you give me it just shakes me to my core... i couldn't do it anymore—hic— i had to avoid you hick—" he hides his face in his hands. you try to understand his words, your head spiralling in turmoil. he what? he avoided you because you gave him too much attention? what kind of fucked up logic was that? this was starting to sound like those cliche misunderstanding tropes in romcoms. nevermind that, you had a sexually confused pile of fluff to comfort.

"soobin breathe, hey, come on." you say as softly as you can, like you were trying to approach an injured bunny in the wild. no matter, your heart pangs with guilt as he keeps crying. you pull him into a hug on your lap, wrapping your arms tight around his frame. this seems to make him cry more, but he leans into you, knees bundled tight against his chest as he savours the warmth. you two stay on the floor in this strong embrace. you coo sweet and reassuring words into his ear as you rock him back and forth, doing your best to console him. kissing each tear as it falls.

his sobs quiet down with each passing minute until there was only silence and mute sniffling. it was bizarre to cuddle on the restroom floor, but it was nice, and you have to admit that you do like soobin in your arms. not embracing him in sex, but in comfort and simply to make him feel good. this was crazy hypocritical to say, considering he was partly crying due to your assholery.

after a few more minutes of silence, you glance at soobin, still hidden away by his hands. "soob, come on, look at me." you coo into his ear, and he makes a small noise of acknowledgement. your hands gently pry at his hands and he lets you remove his shield from his face. he looks at you pitifully, eyes red and puffy from the crying, pouting. you kiss his cheek, you don't know why you did it, but it felt right to. "do you want to talk to me now?"

he nods, but hides his face in your shoulder.

"i... i'm crazy and a freak. you hurt me, you humiliate me, you cause me so much pain."

you grimace, stroking his hair. yeah, that sounds about right. if there was one thing consistent about your inconsistent personality, it was how much of an asshole you are. if soobin was your salvation, it was like the angels gave you a second chance at life. but you honestly wouldn't blame them if the ground caved beneath you right now and sent you straight to hell. was it bad to say you enjoyed all the sadistic acts? probably. you can't lie and say you regret being a sadist. but if it makes it better, you do regret the pain soobin is feeling right now.

"but... please don't hate me for this..."

"i won't hate you, soobin." you encourage him to keep talking, shushing his worries away.

"i like all of it, i like it so much it drives me crazy. i'm abnormal, i know. and i get it if you think i'm disgusting. but i'm so obsessed with you. i think about the things you do to me every night, i replay it in my head over and over again until i'm touching myself again. the more you hurt me, the more i like you... but... but you kept avoiding me, and i thought you knew how i felt and you were disgusted... and if that was the case... i didn't want to get hurt anymore..." he confesses fully, face buried deep in your neck and you feel your shirt slowly wet with his tears again.

it was silence, absolute, bewilderment from your side. the quiet seems to gnaw at soobin's heart, because he lifts his head up, gaze lowered as he stutters. "i— i get it if you're disgusted, my feelings are so strang—"

"soobin, you're a proper, proper masochist, wow." you breathe out. lifting his face up gently with two of your hands. wiping away his tears with your sleeve.

"oh..." he just mouths, mind seemingly blank. confused by how mundane your reaction was.

"wait, so how'd you feel about what we did just then? did you like it?"

"i... didn't like you being angry at me..."

"but what about the feeling? the fingering? the rough treatment?"

he blushes. "i liked the rough treatment." he pauses for a moment. "and you paying attention to me again."

the both of you fall quiet and he crumbles at the scrutiny. you knew soobin was masochistic and that he liked you. this was not new information. shit, you knew this from the beginning. so what changed? why did you freak out and go ballistic? why'd you corner him and demand him to tell you why he avoided you? why'd you force him to endure all that pain?

"i... i was so mean to you today... i... because you kept, looking away from me, and, ignoring my gaze and avoiding me. i thought..." the words fall into noiseless void. burning on the tip of your tongue.

"i thought you didn't like me anymore,"

you admit, shame and humiliation weighing down your heart. for a self-proclaimed smartass, you were sure stupid and dense to your own emotions. when did it start? when did you actually start caring about the loser? maybe the answer was simpler than that, you never felt the feelings creeping up to you, because, in truth, you've always been looking at him. maybe that's why you picked on him so easily, always eyeing for his reaction. shit, what a twisted way your heart works. but damn did you have a lifetime of sins to atone for.

soobin was blinking up at you blearily, clearly confused and oblivious to the conclusion in your head. you pick up his cracked glasses from the ground, gently inserting them behind his ears. (you'll buy him another pair later.)

"you don't hate me?" his voice was weak and hopeful. you scoff.

"you're too easy to bully and pick on. it's the complete opposite idiot. i just have a shitty way to show my feelings, and you're unfortunately the victim." it takes a moment for him to process your words, and his face morphs into a cute kind of shock, he is ecstatic, you can tell by the way his dimples deepen. you really didn't deserve this man or any of the feelings he has, for some reason, god was merciful and sent the perfect masochistic man to slot into your sadistic tendencies.

"but... isn't our relationship weird?" he frowns.

"we crossed that line the moment i fingered you dude." he chuckles at this, caught off guard. and you appreciate the clear ringing of his laughter without any more denial.

"honestly, you picked such a shitty person to crush on. i'm the worst, i like being mean to you. i like humiliating you, i like the feeling of having you grovel at my feet."

his face reddens with each word, hiding his face into your shoulder again. you lean into him, appreciating the silky softness of his hair.

"i don't deserve you. i'm an idiot, it took what? months of sexual tension and emotional buildup for me to realise i actually like you instead of hating you?" you ramble, he snorts.

"but i'll make it up to you, i promise." you can tell he was blushing by the heated tips of his ears. this was nice, him in your lap. he's still a loser, but he's your loser. (gross, you reconsider taking everything back with this one thought.)

"let's get out of here first. screw class, we're gonna graduate anyways, what are the teachers gonna do?"

"and i should wear some pants..." he comments.

"that too."

☆★☆

you do a final check over at soobin, ointment applied and bandaged up. he looks out of place in your fancy bedroom and it makes you snicker. once a loser, forever a loser.

"okay, that's it. does it hurt anywhere else?" you ask, setting down the ointment. he's only injured slightly, it was mostly his bitten lip and some bruises from the rough handling.

he nods and you instantly look at him with concern. "where? where and what hurts?"

he exaggeratedly points at his heart and you scoff, rolling your eyes, trying your hardest not to smile at his antics. "what does the big baby want?"

soobin is pensive and shy at first, he wasn't expecting you to take his dramatics seriously. but soon his lips curl into a cheeky grin. "...cuddles, and kisses." you blush at the idea, grimacing. you stand up and walk away from him towards the bed.

soobin panics at your reaction. "s—sorry! i was being stupid, you don't have to take it seriously, don't leave me!"

"shut up, do you want it or not?" you say, sitting on the edge of the bed. arms stretched out. he grins widely, hurrying up to jump into your arms. you two roll over into the bed as you stretch the blanket to cover your bodies. you admire soobin's joyful expression, stroking his hair.

don't get it wrong, you still think such blatant displays of affection were cringe, and soobin was still a loser. but maybe it was never that deep, and you could definitely see yourself get used to this.

you lean down, your lips connecting with his, he feels so plush and soft underneath you. he's still a masochistic dog definitely, and you still think he's a pervert, but he's also so precious and lovable, there was so many things you could list about him.

you two separate. he seems beyond pleased with himself, burying his face into your neck. "i feel like this is all a dream, and i'm going to wake up."

"don't insult me, dream me could never kiss this well." you roll your eyes. he snickers.

"yeah, you're right. no one else could make me feel this way except real you."

you feel yourself grin, really grin. not out of malice, a grin of genuine satisfaction and joy. you feel your eyelids drooping as soobin drifts to sleep in your arms. if you told younger you that this was how things would turn out with soobin, they probably would've cussed and flipped you out.

oh well. they will come to accept it eventually anyways. this wasn't so bad after all.

end.

☆★☆ BONUS SCENE

soobin drools, senses heightened. tied up, gagged, blindfolded and a vibrator pressing at his cock. he wasn't going to last much longer. you were cruel, so fucking cruel. and he had no idea where you even were. did you leave him? how long has it been? minutes? hours? did you leave the room?

he was snapped back to reality by a harsh slap on his thigh. he trembles and sobs, curling into himself. he feels a pressure at the back of his head before the gag loosened up, allowing him to breathe and talk.

"pl—please, can't, can't— gon cum, can't hold it in. mercy, please mercy." he cries out, voice broken. he sobs and thrashes around. hoping he can charm his way out of this. he was going to burst any moment and he was going to be punished harshly for disobeying you.

"colour?" you whisper by his ear, making him jump with a whimper.

"g—green." he sniffles.

"good boy." you coo, stroking his chest, circling around one of his nipples. he cries, nerves jerking all over the place. "beg for it."

"please..." he begins, swallowing down a sob.

"please fuck me... please give me permission to cum— i— i can't last any longer— hic!"

you interrupt him with a large intrusion in his ass, he almost mewls in both pleasure and pain. "a—ah! so big, feeeels good, uhhg feels so good. love you, love you."

you grin cruelly, thrusting into him hard and accurate. the pleasure he was in twists into panic as he realises you hadn't given him permission to cum yet. and if you kept going at this pace, he was surely going to cum before your permission.

"w—wait ple—ease let me cum! i've been good, i've been good! please let me cum, i've been so good for you!" he snivels, were you going to be nice or heartless today? the closer he reaches to his climax, the more he frets. grovelling down at you, begging relentlessly for permission. before long, he feels his limit.

"i'm going to oh god i'm going to! i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm so disobedient i'm going to disobey you! i feel it— hic—" he cries louder, and just before he climaxes, you press down on his lower stomach, whispering in his ear.

"come for me baby."

with that, his body violently convulses, and his back arches as his mouth opens in a silent scream. cum forces its way out of his painfully hard dick, a guttural groan digs its way out as he empties completely onto the bed.

after his ejaculation, he huffs heavily, whines mixed in with his wheezing. you let him ride out his orgasm, pulling out of him. you untie him and take off the blindfold. kissing him sweetly.

"you did so well, you were so cute soob." you cheekily grin. he smiles tiredly up at you. body sore and thoroughly ruined. he stretches his arms out and you take it as a signal to lift him up into your lap.

he settles into your embrace like it is the most natural thing in the world. giggling into your shoulder. "that was amazing, i love you so much."

"i gueesss i love you." you tease.

"hey!"

you chuckle, kissing his cheek. "just kidding, i love you." soobin whispers a quiet 'i know.'

you two enjoy each other's company for a second, only interrupted by soobin's growling stomach. "greedy." you jab at him with a grin and he pouts.

"i'll get you something to eat at the convenience store." you shake your head, getting up to leave but soobin tugs at your sleeve.

"i'm going to be lonely, take me with you!"

you roll your eyes at his dramatic antics, but oblige anyways.

☆★☆

at the convenience store, you buy a simple bread bun for soobin, your hands warming up in your pockets as he enjoys his snack. it was a cold winter, and you wanted to return back to your apartment as soon as possible.

"yo!"

a vaguely familiar voice calls out, you turn around to be met with a recognizable face, a gasp on your lips—

"holy shit, kiwoo! i haven't seen you since graduation." soobin vaguely identify the man as one of your old high school friends.

"it's been quite a few years, hasn't it," he chuckles, though confusion was evident in his eyes as he recognises soobin.

"soobin? what are you doing here?" he pauses, glancing between you, and then soobin, and then you. like the gears of a clock slowly turning.

"you guys are still friends?" he asks.

you and soobin exchange a look. "not really." you chuckle.

he tilts his head and you dutifully wrap an arm around soobin's waist. a cheeky grin on your face as you show off the glinting gem on your finger.

"he's my fiance, obviously."

★★★ end ★★★

an: i hope you guys enjoyed the fic and the ending!!! it took a lot of contemplating on how i was going to end this highly anticipated series... i do have a lot of inbox asks for alternative realities and spin-offs, so i will probably work on them next!!! also so sorry for disappearing for like multiple months... i had been so busy with life help!!!

anyways... reshares and comments are always appreciated! please do let me know how you felt about the fic....

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sansaorgana · 5 months ago

Text

— FARE THEE WELL

PAIRING — Ser Gwayne Hightower x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — You're a barmaid who had a fling with a noble knight a few moons ago. Now he comes back for one more night to spend with you before he leaves to join the war.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It’s based on the idea for a fic by @peachysunrize that I really liked and since I usually write wife!Readers and noble born Readers in this Universe, it felt nice to explore a new trope. I couldn't help myself to make it a bit angsty as well, for which I am sorry... 🙈

WARNINGS — angsty ending, SMUT, bath sex, slight choking

WORD COUNT — 5,420

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

FARE THEE WELL

It was a nice and peaceful afternoon at the Tavern where you worked. The sky was blue and clear with only a few clouds and a slight wind was messing with the reckless strands of your braided hair whenever you went outside with the mugs full of beer and bowls full of food for your customers.

“There are men coming,” your boss told you after walking downstairs. “I saw ‘em from the window. A few knights on the horses that will need water and hay. They have King Aegon’s banners,” he rubbed his hands together. “This war’s good for business,” he hummed to himself.

You only nodded at that and wiped your hands in your dirty apron. The war could be good for business indeed but it also meant lots of work with demanding knights and noblemen although you hoped for some generous tips if only you acted nice enough.

“Make it look presentable, will ya?” Your boss barked at you at the sight of the counter. The crumbs were scattered all over the surface and it was sticky from the beer.

You nodded obediently and cursed under your breath when he turned around. You collected all the crumbs with the side of your hand and threw them away into the bin nearby where you kept your waste before taking it out. Then, you began to clean the counter with the damp cloth.

Busy on taking care of every little sticky spot because your boss tended to be a perfectionist, you forgot about the men coming to the Tavern already. Therefore, when the doors opened loudly, you got startled and jumped in your spot before looking up.

Your eyes widened at the sight of the familiar looking armours. You had known once a man who was wearing armour like that – green and silver with golden ornaments and a symbol of the lighthouse on his chest. You had to blink a few times to snap back to reality.

“It is my favourite Tavern in these parts,” one of the men announced and your heart skipped a beat. Oh, you knew that voice but… Was it possible that it was your mind playing tricks on you?

He took his helmet off and rested it on his hip, holding it with his left hand as he ran his right hand through his auburn hair and you gasped.

Ser Gwayne Hightower. Oh, you knew that man.

It had been a few moons ago when you had met him. He had been staying with a Lord living nearby, discussing the matters such noble men usually discussed. He had been trying to explain it to you on those nights spent together in one of the rooms upstairs but you had never fully grasped it.

What you had understood from his story was that he was the eldest son of Otto Hightower who had been King Viserys’ Lord Hand at that time. He was running Oldtown in his father’s name and sometimes he travelled to different parts of Westeros to meet with the vassals and to make the new ones. You remembered that you had asked him about his wife but he had assured you of having none.

You could feel your cheeks heating up at all the shared memories from all those moons ago. You hadn’t expected to see him again ever in your life.

It was not like you were sharing bed with every man visiting your workplace. It was a Tavern, not a brothel and you were only a barmaid, not a whore. But Ser Gwayne was different. From the moment you had seen him, you had known he was special. Something about him was making you feel the way no other man had ever been able to make you feel. He was worth risking everything.

And to him you had been only another adventure, a girl to warm his bed while he was away from home. At least in the beginning. With time, after many nights spent together on talking and fucking, he had started to grow fond of you. He had admitted that himself. He had been confused by what he was capable of feeling towards a common barmaid. And you had been surprised by that as well.

His blue eyes searched the room and then he spotted you, right behind the counter. He smiled at you and walked up as you straightened your back, with the damp cloth still in your hand.

“Well, well, well, and look who’s here,” he looked you up and down with a smug smile. You furrowed your brow, a little confused by his approach. Not that you expected him to pick you up and spin you round. After all, you were no Lady, you were no Princess. “Cole?” He beckoned over another knight.

His armour was not a Hightower one but it was also grand. He had short black hair and big, brown eyes.

“That’s our new Hand of The King, Ser Criston Cole,” Ser Gwayne introduced you and you panicked at first. You had no idea if it was some jestering or was he serious, so you decided to bow down slightly and Ser Gwayne chuckled at you. “And that is my favourite… barmaid,” he introduced you and you swallowed a lump in your throat.

His arrival was not as sweet as his departure all those moons ago when he had nearly had tears in his eyes while kissing your hand goodbye. He had made you feel like a Lady then.

Now, he made you feel like a common whore. And that had to be what The Hand thought as well when he was nodding his head at you. Ser Cole didn’t spare you any more glance and he walked away to sit by one of the tables with other men.

“We shall stay here for the night,” Ser Gwayne informed you and your boss standing behind you.

“That is an honour, Ser,” your boss nodded. “What are you in need of?”

“We want food, beer, baths and rooms to sleep in,” Ser Gwayne threw a few coins on the counter carelessly. “Our horses require tending as well.”

“I’ll fetch them some water and hay,” you cleared your throat and put the cloth down before fixing the reckless hair strands on your hair and walking out as quickly as possible.

Ser Gwayne’s confused eyes followed you but you didn’t look back since you already had tears in your own. All those moons of remembering a sweet, chivalrous knight who had stolen your heart… All those moons of dreaming about him and missing him… The fantasies and memories had all been based on an illusion. It did not feel nice to realise that.

You entered the stables and saw beautiful, armoured horses. They looked very elegant and you were taking your time with petting and feeding them. You wanted to spend as much time in the stables as possible. It was quiet there and the horses would never hurt you the way certain humans would.

As you were caressing one of the horses gently with your hand and watching him eat with a soft smile upon your face, you heard footsteps behind you. You sighed, assuming it would be your boss or another barmaid he had sent after you. But no, when you turned around, you saw Ser Gwayne himself; his face lit up just slightly from all the candles inside the Tavern next to the stables. The sun had set already while you were with the horses.

“Do forgive my tardiness, good Ser,” you cracked a smile at him.

“Sweet darling, why are you addressing me like that?” He approached you and stood right behind you. His hands touched your arms as he breathed in your scent. You were confused.

“Me, Ser Gwayne? Hasn’t it been you treating me like a common whore? Why are you back here, Ser, by the way? Were the brothels all busy or perhaps is our King Aegon running out of coins in his treasure, so you wanted to go back to a silly barmaid who is giving herself to you willingly, free of charge?” You asked but it was not asked with anger – your voice was filled with hurt as you looked down.

“Aren’t you adorable,”Ser Gwayne only chuckled before leaning in to cup your chin and force your head to turn around, gently. You looked up at him and he joined your lips together in a sweet kiss.

You gave in immediately and you hated yourself for it but there was something so charming and alluring about that man… You couldn’t deny yourself a gentle kiss from his lips.

“My sweet,” he cooed to you, looking intensely at your face with so much adoration that you couldn’t believe that a man as noble as him was capable of it. Such a look on his face should be reserved for the Princesses or pretty Ladies he would win tournaments for. Certainly not for you. “I couldn’t possibly reveal how much you mean to me in front of everybody, could I?” He explained to you. “There has been no day for me without remembering you, sweet (Y/N),” he whispered and your name had never sounded so pretty in anyone’s lips.

Your name was usually shouted by men rushing you to bring them their orders faster or by your angry boss. You had never expected to actually get a taste of what it would be like to be a real Lady. But when Ser Gwayne was whispering your name in such a delicate manner, you suddenly were a noble woman and your heart was at peace.

It brought heat to your cheeks immediately and you looked away since his gaze was getting too intense.

“I have been thinking of you, too, Ser Gwayne,” you confessed. “I have been praying to the Warrior for you and… to the Maiden… for myself.”

“Oh, have you?” Ser Gwayne chuckled and bit on his lower lip. “If I removed your skirts, I would find your knees scratched then?” He teased you.

You were taken away by his straightforward words and you walked away from him to finish your work with the horses but he kept standing there and observing you.

“I am on my way to war. A real one like I have never experienced before,” he confessed. “A real one like I have been trained to take my part in ever since I was a child, wielding a wooden practice sword.”

“It is a dangerous war coming, Ser,” you nodded, focusing on pouring the water for the horses. You didn’t want to look up and meet his gaze because you would burst out in tears if you saw his face now. “People talk that the dragons shall dance in the sky and it will be nothing but blood and fire,” you mumbled out. You didn’t want Ser Gwayne to leave for such an awful, horrible war.

“You do realise then that simple men like me do not stand a chance,” he tried to be playful about it.

“I do not wish to speak of it, Ser,” you interrupted him and shook your head, sniffling your tears back.

“Me neither, sweet (Y/N). I want my one last night of peace… Or at least an illusion of it. And I couldn’t imagine it anywhere else other than here. With you,” he informed you and nodded his head before walking out of the stables.

This time you hurried with the horses and you came back inside the Tavern as fast as possible. Your boss gave you an unpleasant look.

“What has taken you so long?”

“They’re no common horses. They’re fancy,” you rolled your eyes at him, coming up with excuses. “They demand special treatment,” you chuckled.

Your eyes sparkled while letting out that laughter and you spotted Ser Gwayne by one of the tables. Your gaze met with his for a brief moment and your whole body filled with so much warmth and nostalgia that you nearly exploded right there, in the middle of that awful Tavern.

Ser Gwayne would forever remain your what if. What if you had been born a Lady. What if he had been born a peasant. You would still love him, of that you were sure. If he was a miller, a smith or a carpenter, you would marry him in a heartbeat and perhaps your lives would be much simpler than as a Lord and a Lady.

Ser Gwayne beckoned you over with a wave of his hand and you fixed your skirts before approaching him. Some of his men were staring at you as well but you only cared for his blue eyes. Here, in the light of the Tavern, he looked even better than in the stables.

“Are you busy mayhaps, fair maiden?” He winked at you and you were trying very hard not to roll your eyes at the question.

“Depends on what you’re asking of me, kind Ser,” you bowed your head slightly.

“We have a long road ahead of us,” he answered. “I would love a long and relaxing bath.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw some of his men smirking. You just nodded your head at his words.

“I shall ask one of the girls to prepare it for you, Ser,” you teased him, pretending to sound as serious and professional as possible.

“Oh, no, no, my sweetling,” Ser Gwayne reached his hand out to squeeze yours. “You shall go upstairs now and prepare me one,” he told you.

“If you insist, Ser,” you bowed your head and turned around with a soft smile to approach your boss who was busy counting money at the moment.

“Ser Gwayne asked me for a bath,” you informed him and he only nodded without even looking up at you as he dismissed you with a wave of his hand.

You grabbed your skirts in your hands and rushed upstairs where some other girls working at the Tavern were busy with preparing the rooms for the knights.

“Which chambers are Ser Gwayne’s?” You asked and one of them pointed at the ajar door at the other side of the corridor.

“I’ve just finished preparin’ it,” she informed you and you smiled at her.

“Ser Gwayne wants a bath,” you told her. “Go to the kitchen and bring me buckets with warm water.”

She nodded and hurried downstairs as you entered the chambers that were prepared for Ser Gwayne. They were one of the nicest ones that the Tavern had for the guests but you knew it had to be nothing compared to his chambers in Oldtown.

However, walking around those chambers was bringing memories to you as you smiled to yourself. All those moons ago he had been staying in these chambers as well for some nights. And perhaps for him those were just dirty rooms at some common Tavern but to you those were the fanciest chambers you had ever slept in.

Your dreamy pacing around was interrupted by the arrival of a few girls carrying buckets with warm water. They placed it on the floor and went back to their other duties as you approached the bathtub and began filling it. You sat on the edge and took your time with it like you had before with the horses. You wanted to cherish every moment of that sweet gesture you were doing – taking care of Ser Gwayne. Like a wife would.

Well, perhaps noble wives were not known for such activities. But if you were peasants like you had imagined before, you would be the one responsible for preparing his baths every other day. And you would do it gladly, without complaints. You would love to take care of him when he’d be back from work, dirty and tired. But none of that would matter since you would have him for yourself and you would have him every day, falling asleep in his arms and waking up in them.

The door opened slightly with a squeak and you looked up to see Ser Gwayne himself walking inside with a loving smile.

“You look really domestic like that,” he told you before closing the door behind him.

“Do I, good Ser?” You asked with a sad smile as you dipped your fingers in the water to check its temperature.

“Will you help me to undress?” He asked of you and you nodded, although awkwardly.

You were not familiar with all those armour pieces, however you had a small experience in taking them off of him already. You approached him and started to work on his armour piece by piece, painfully slowly. You were glad the water your friends had brought was boiling hot because you didn’t want him to whine about it being too cold later but you also didn’t want to rush this moment.

“Your fingers are so soft,” Ser Gwayne pointed out when you were working on a chest piece. “Softer than my squire’s for sure,” he chuckled.

“I know it is surprising for a commoner to have soft hands, Ser, but I work a lot in the kitchen and the butter tends to soften the skin,” you explained.

“You must look pretty in the kitchen,” Ser Gwayne pointed out and you looked up at him, questioningly. “With flour on your cheeks and nose, busy little bee,” he explained.

“Who would have thought that a noble knight would be into that,” you commented with a smirk.

“There is still a lot you ought to learn about me, (Y/N),” he whispered. “Would you cook or bake something for me if I asked you to?”

“I would bake you bread and those cakes you liked so much the last time you were here,” you looked up to meet his gaze. He blushed a little at the remark about cakes. “What? You are spoiled, kind Ser, that is not a secret. But I would happily spoil you myself, too.”

“Perhaps I should take you with me to Oldtown and hire you in The Hightower. I think you would like it there, my sweet,” he teased but his voice was more serious than you expected. “Perhaps I shall fetch you on my way back home after the war is won.”

“Perhaps,” you shrugged your arms. “My whole family lives here, however, and Oldtown is far away.”

In fact, Oldtown was like a place from the fairytales to you. It was far, far away and you would never really go there, realistically speaking. And it was a place where your Ser lived and in your imagination it had to be a beautiful and lively place… It was out of your reach in many ways.

A short, awkward silence occurred after that as you worked on the last pieces of his armour and there he stood, only in his underwear. You bowed your head at him.

“I believe my work here is done, Ser. I would recommend getting into that bathtub before the water gets cold,” you advised him.

“Oh, my sweet, won’t you stay to help me wash my back?” He grinned at you and you cracked a smile.

You were hoping for such words. So, you did not leave but stayed, with your hands clasped in front of you as you watched him get undressed completely. You tried not to give any reaction to his naked body while you watched him get inside the bathtub and let out a groan of pleasure at the feeling.

“Come here, sweet little thing,” he beckoned you over and you approached the bathtub slowly. “Join me,” he encouraged.

You hesitated but only for a second and you began to undress as he watched. His eyes were looking you up and down and you started with the apron. You wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible because it was the worst piece of your clothing, an awful reminder of your low status.

The blouse was next and then your skirts. Your corset was loosened from the whole day at work so it slipped off very easily. You were left in your underdress only but you untied your braid before taking it off as well and there you stood, naked and with your hair down as your eyes boldly met his. He had a smug smile on his face.

“You’re still as beautiful as I remembered,” Ser Gwayne remarked and reached his hand out to brush your knee with his fingers. “Come to me,” he invited you.

You joined him in the bathtub very slowly, starting with your right foot and then the left one before lowering yourself and sitting on the opposite side of Ser Gwayne.

“Your knees are scratched indeed,” he pointed out and you chuckled.

“They always are, Ser, for I am a barmaid. I spend half of my days on my knees, washing the floors,” you explained.

“Those pretty knees were made for different things, my sweet,” he assured you with a smirk as he moved a little closer to you.

He grabbed your knees softly and then he pulled you closer to him as you yelped and some of the water splashed out on the floor. You giggled and threw your hands around him to clasp them behind his neck as your faces were so close now that your noses brushed.

“And what have you been up to, kind Ser? Have you gotten married? Fathered a son?” You teased and he rolled his eyes.

“All my thoughts have been occupied by a pretty barmaid,” he confessed and caressed your thighs while you hummed to yourself.

“Oh, have they? And who is she? Is she prettier than me? Is she lovelier than me?” You rubbed your nose with his as you asked, playfully.

“She is exactly as pretty as you. Exactly as lovely as you and she even has your name,” Ser Gwayne answered before stealing a kiss from your lips.

The kiss started nearly innocently but it quickly turned into a more passionate one. It didn’t want to end and you turned out to be gasping into each other’s mouths as your hands tugged onto his hair and his fingers squeezed the soft flesh of your hips, pulling them as close to his body as possible.

“I’ve missed you,” he breathed out and moved his hands up to cup your breasts. “I’ve missed all of you. Your body, your voice, your smile, your cunt,” he confessed and his obscene words made your cheeks heat up.

And not only your cheeks. Your whole body was on fire now. To have him so close and to feel his hands on your skin was enough to make you feel dizzy. You let go of his hair and you placed your hands on his chest to push him gently. Ser Gwayne leaned back and you sat astride him, making sure that his hardening cock was brushing your soft thighs.

“My cunt’s been missing you, too,” you whispered before joining your lips together once more.

You kissed him sloppily, with your tongue and teeth clashing. One of your hands was placed upon his chest for balance and the other you moved down to grab his cock. He let out a moan into your mouth when you started to pump his length. You could feel it growing harder and harder.

Ser Gwayne kept his hands on your back but now he let them run freely all the way down as he cupped your ass and squeezed the soft flesh. His fingers wandered all the way down and brushed your folds, teasing your entrance in a way that was making your pussy throb in anticipation already.

“Have you taken another cock since our last time?” Ser Gwayne asked you and you sincerely shook your head. “Aw, my sweetling, you must be so eager,” he teased.

“And what about you, Ser? Have you been good?” You smirked at him.

You knew already that in the intimate moments the power difference between you two due to your birth status did not matter anymore. In fact, Ser Gwayne liked it when you challenged him.

“There is a brothel in Oldtown I find very enjoyable,” he confessed and bucked his hips slightly when you picked up the pace of your hand wrapped around his cock. “But none of these women could give me what my sweet little barmaid had given to me,” he added.

“Your sweet little barmaid would not be as special as you claim her to be if any common whore would give you what only she can give you, Ser,” you raised an eyebrow at him.

“I even chose the ones who looked like you – who reminded me of you – but they were doing nothing to me,” he breathed out and you leaned in, pressing your forehead to his.

“Aw, you must be so eager,” you teased him with his own words and a smirk as you guided his cock to your cunt.

You both gasped in unison at the feeling you had been missing for so long. His cock twitched inside of your wet, warm pussy that welcomed him with spazmatic throbs. You threw your head back and dug your fingernails into his shoulders, savouring the feeling of fullness.

“Fuck, my sweetling, aren’t you perfect,” Ser Gwayne mumbled out and you looked down at his face through your lashes. Your eyes were hazy from lust and the look you gave him had to be as sultry as if you were one of the whores who had only been pretending to be you in those past few moons.

Keeping your intense gaze on him, you began to move your hips up and down until you found your steady pace and continued to bounce on his cock as the water splashed. Ser Gwayne helped you to ride him with his hands on your hips but he quickly got distracted with your breasts that were right in front of his face. He moved his hands up to cup and squeeze them while you hissed at the feeling.

Feeling confident in your pace and rhythm, you let go of his shoulders and moved your hands to his neck. You looked into his eyes, searching for the confirmation and he nodded at you slightly, so you squeezed your hands a bit. He had taught you all those moons ago how such a simple action would increase the pleasure. You watched with satisfaction as his eyelids fluttered before his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he let out a deep groan.

Your back arched as if you were a cat when you lowered yourself onto his body to feel more of him and to allow his cock reach deeper inside of you, brushing your sweet spot with each thrust. Your breaths were nothing but gasps now, accompanied with soft moans coming out of your parted lips. Riding him in that bathtub, with your hands around his throat and his pretty, flushed face right in front of yours, suddenly nothing else mattered – this Tavern did not, these chambers did not either and certainly all his titles mattered the least. This life and the world were so complicated sometimes but at the end of the day all that mattered was this – two people being close with each other, intimate, sharing pleasure.

“Gods,” you let out a shaky whisper when you felt a knot forming in your abdomen. Your sweet release was close after all those moons of missing him with every fibre of your being.

“Let go for me, my sweetling,” Ser Gwayne encouraged you, his voice was raspy from your choking as he forced his hazy eyes to open and watch you coming undone for him with a loud moan.

You threw your head back and kept riding him while your cunt clenched around his cock and your hands squeezed his throat even tighter. That sensation and the sight of your face was enough to make him reach his high, too. He spilled himself inside of you and your cunt milked him eagerly, taking in every single drop.

The movements of your hips slowed down gradually and Ser Gwayne’s cock softened inside of you but you had no strength to move. You laid down on his chest and tried to catch your breath, still shaking slightly. He wrapped his strong arms around you and caressed your back, letting his rough fingertips wander up and down your spine.

“The water’s getting cold, my sweet,” he pointed out after a while.

You raised your chin up to meet his gaze with a delicate smile.

“You are so spoiled, Ser,” you remarked. “I believe you have never taken a cold bath.”

He winced at that and you chuckled before placing a kiss on his throat, where your fingers had been pressing not so long ago. After that, you moved up and left the bathtub although your legs remained pretty shaky.

You leaned down to pick up your underdress but Ser Gwayne stopped you.

“Don’t,” he said, getting out of the bathtub himself. “You shall stay here for the night. I am not yet done with you.”

It was early morning and you were feeding the horses in the stables. The sun was barely up but the knights had to come back to their camp before leaving with the rest of the men and continuing their march. You had barely had any sleep on the previous night but you did not complain about it.

“I knew I would find you here,” Ser Gwayne walked inside when you were caressing one of the stallions. “I wanted to give you a proper goodbye,” he walked up to you.

You looked up at his face and you smiled to yourself. He looked pretty tired himself and you knew the reason behind that. But the exhaustion was not making him any less handsome.

“Fare thee well, my kind Ser,” you turned around to squeeze his hands that he had reached out for you.

“Can you give me your blessing before I leave?” He asked and there was surprisingly no teasing in his voice.

“I’m no Princess nor a Lady,” you looked down slightly as your cheeks heated up.

“I do not care. I will not be at peace without your blessing, my sweet,” he insisted.

“I do not have a handkerchief to give you, Ser,” you looked up again as you confessed and stood on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his forehead. “That is all I can offer.”

“That is more than enough,” Ser Gwayne smiled sadly at you. He let go of your hands and reached to his chest. He took off a necklace that he was wearing – a small ring on a chain. You had asked about it all those moons ago and he had confessed then that it had belonged to his Lady Mother once. “I want you to have it,” he gave it to you and you froze.

“I… I cannot accept it, Ser,” your eyes widened.

“You must for I insist,” he closed your hands around it and squeezed them. “You shall give it back to me when I visit you after the war,” he bit on his lower lip as he looked at your face in anticipation, curious of your reaction.

“That is… The most generous,” your eyes filled with tears. “I shall keep it safe for you, Ser,” you promised.

He nodded at that and watched you put the necklace around your neck before he took your hand and placed a soft kiss upon it as if it was a hand of a Princess or a Lady and not a common barmaid.

“Farewell, my sweetling,” he whispered.

“Farewell, Ser Gwayne,” you whispered back.

You stared into each other’s eyes for a while and then he nodded at you again and moved away at the sound of other men walking inside the stables.

You watched them mount their horses but your eyes were truly only on him and he kept watching you from the corner of his eye, too. You walked outside to observe them as they rode away and Ser Gwayne turned around one last time before disappearing down the road. You squeezed the ring on the necklace in your hand and your heart moved all the way up to your throat, forming a lump that was hard to swallow.

A few years later you would give the necklace to your son – alongside with the tale of his brave and noble father from Oldtown.

MASTERLIST

#gwayne hightower x reader #lilysfiction

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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 3 months ago

Text

You look like a fun place to sit.

Gif credits

Pairing: Neighbor!Frankie Morales x f!reader

Words count: 2667

Rating: + 18, MDNI

Summary: You decide to enjoy a night at the movies, your neighbor Frankie ruins it all. Or maybe not?

Tags: pov second person, no use of y/n, fluff, sort of romcom vibes (?), smut, enemies to lovers, age unspecified but they are both full grown adults, Frankie is annoying but also cute and lovely and fucking gorgeous, reader has hair, breasts and vagina, other than that no other description of her is given, fingering (f receiving), sexual acts in public places (again? Again. I'm not even particularly interested in doing that irl I don't know what to say to you, please forgive me), pet names (honey, baby, princess), arguing, kissing, no use of Spanish because I terribly suck at it and I don't want to butcher another language LOL. If by chance I realize I forgot something I'll add it right away.

It’s my first Frankie ff and I’m so incredibly nervous to post it you all! I really hope it doesn’t sucks because I had so much fun writing it today in one sitting ‘cause I’m just an impulsive impatient mess. (Leo sun and Aries moon, what do you expect from me if not chaos? I had nothing a few hours ago, I even skipped WIP Wednesday and btw thanks for the tag @almostempty 🩷)

Title comes from a gif of Karen Walker from Will and Grace that I saw last night, it made me laugh a lot and this thing was born LOL

As usual, English is not my first language so please be gentle, no beta and no proofreading, it’s tiny and it’s all my fault, I’m sorry 💀 Thanks to anyone who will read this!

Archive tags: @pedrostories ♥️

“Excuse me, you should stand up, that’s my seat”

Frankie turns, looking at you with a surprised expression “I don’t think so, you’re wrong” he replies.

Ugh, your neighbor.

Frankie lives two houses away from you. Last winter you had a fight at a neighborhood meeting because you pointed out that he keeps forgetting to put the recycling bins back in, and he told you to mind your own business and called you an hysterical witch.

A stupid fight that ended up with you not saying hello to each other and various other arguments about your flashy Christmas lights or his overgrown yard. You and Frankie fight constantly, about everything. And now he's here.

You glare at him “I’m not wrong at all, look” and you wave your ticket under his nose “P10, see? It’s my seat and you’re rude”.

A grin spreads across his face “listen, honey, I don’t know where you got this ticket, you probably made it yourself, I bought it a moment ago and it’s the same seat”

He takes a card out of his pocket and hands it to you, remaining comfortably seated with a large popcorn box.

You look at the ticket, him again, the ticket again “how the hell is that possible?! I booked it on their website a week ago”

He sneers “I told you! It must be a system error, I don’t know, I’m not getting up from here”

You are furious. The theater is filling up and you absolutely don’t want to leave, you have been waiting for this movie for months and you have inspected the theater map choosing a seat that would guarantee you the very best view.

“I bought it first, so I have more right to be here than you do,” you say firmly and Frankie laughs.

“Where are we, elementary school? Listen, honey, go buy yourself another ticket and leave me alone.” He replies crunching on popcorn.

The way he calls you “honey” irritates you deeply, it sounds like an insult.

“I’m not going anywhere, YOU get the fuck out of here” you hiss.

“No” he simply replies and then he turns back at the screen pretending you’re not there.

“Truly a gentleman, as usual. I have no words.” you roll your eyes and search for an usher to ask for help. No one is there.

The movie starts in 5 minutes and you don’t want to miss anything you paid for. If you went to the box office right now to complain it would take forever to get back in.

“Fuck” you exclaim and sit down next to him huffing. You are sure that someone will make you get up very early and it pisses you off.

Frankie continues to nibble on his popcorn and looks at you with an extremely amused expression, it seems like the show has become you.

“Why do you care so much about this movie anyway?” he asks you. “Does any of your relatives happen to be in it?“

You’re fuming.

His teasing tone, his vaguely Spanish accent, his smirk, the sound of him chewing, everything bothers you.

“No. Shut the fuck up” you tell him with a death stare.

You won’t tell him that your favorite actor stars in it, that you have every photo from the set of this movie saved on your phone, that you’ve read every article about it, and that you couldn’t wait to enjoy it on the first day of screening.

You can already hear his raucous laughter. No, you would never tell Frankie anything like that.

“You're not one of that guy's crazy fans, are you?”

“What guy?” you ask him, pretending not to know what he's talking about. “Gladiator is one of my favorite movies, that's all. I just wanted to watch the sequel in peace. Someone is stopping me, though”

“That guy, I bet you like him, what’s his name? Paul Pascal?” he stares at you searching for every little involuntary movement on your face that might give you away.

“Oh for God’s sake, what are you doing here anyway? Do you even know what you're about to see? They are Paul Mescal and Pedro Pascal, two different people, you uncultered swine.” You yell. This guy is impossible.

“Yeah, whatever, so which one do you fancy?”

“Fucking nobody” you lie “I just want to watch a movie after a horrible week at work, okay?” You try to play on his guilt. If he has one, you think.

“Well, I've had a rough week too, okay?” he shrugs without stopping to give you that annoying little smile. “And it's not my fault that this theater is having problems with its computer system.”

You glance at him, wondering if he's telling the truth, it's impossible to guess from his face.

People keep sitting in the front rows and you start hoping that luck will be on your side and that no one will make you get up.

“Okay, look, now we're going to watch this movie and then we'll go our separate ways, please don't bother me anymore"

“As you wish, princess” he replies ironically.

You don't even answer him, you're too busy checking that no other people come in.

Finally the opening credits start to roll and the doors close with a dull thud.

You made it, despite this unbearable guy, you feel victorious.

You begin to relax in your chair and you don't know why you turn to look at him, lingering on his face for the first time in months.

His eyes are fixed on the screen. In the dim light you observe his raven curly hair tucked under his baseball cap, his dark eyes, the line of his prominent nose, his scruffy beard, his mustache, just above a pair of lips that seem made for kissing.

Really, truly, gorgeous.

You're so busy arguing with him all the time that you never realized how handsome he is.

He's wearing a grey t-shirt and a pair of jeans, you can’t help but admire the way the fabrics hug his body so deliciously.

He’s just your type, built up in all the right ways, you find yourself unable to take your eyes off him until the last second. Then the movie starts and you look away.

He’s still your number one enemy, what the hell were you thinking?

When Pedro first appears, you shift in your seat, crossing your legs.

“FUCK” you scream internally “here we go”

Unbelievably stunning in his armor, you’re basically drooling.

You try to stay as composed as possible but Frankie is next to you and notices.

He comes closer to you and whispers in your ear “So it was all about this guy… the fuss before” You feel one of his large hand brushing your arm that is resting on the armchair and you try with all your strength to remain still even if he causes a storm inside you and especially in your panties.

“Shut. Up.” You hiss, without moving your gaze. You feel his breath on your skin and it’s intoxicating.

He chuckles “Yeah, that was I was thinking” and throws another popcorn into his mouth.

Your cheeks burn and you're thankful you're in the cinema, in the dark.

“What’s so special about this guy?” Frankie approaches again “is his penis platinum by any chance? All my female colleagues at work are crazy about him”

You turn to look at him with the desire to slap him “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

“Okay, okay, I was just asking”

You hate people talking at the movies. You wonder if you could have a more annoying guy than Frankie next to you. Probably.

Hotter? Probably not.

This dude hits on your last nerve but he makes you horny at the same time.

Terrible combination.

Frankie settles back into his seat and resumes watching the film.

You can't help but look at him from time to time and your desire grows. even if you're offended that he didn't even offer you his popcorn. Rude.

His mouth pouted and his eyebrows furrowed as he seems all focused on the movie makes you want to cup his face and kiss him.

You can still feel the warmth of his hand on your arm and his breath on your neck.

Concentrate, you tell yourself, it's the neighbor you hate, the neighbor you hate, the neighbor you hate. Fuck. You want him so bad. This revelation drives you crazier than Pedro half naked on screen.

At a particularly bloody scene you involuntarily turn around and hide your face on his shoulder.

You feel his arm around you “hey, it’s okay. I’ll tell you when it’s over” and he holds you tight the whole time.

He smells clean and fresh, like citrus and sage with a light hint of cigarette that you assume he smoked right before entering.

Your mind goes fuzzy and your pulse races at an impossibly high rate.

“You can look now” and it takes you a few seconds too long to register his words.

“Th-Thanks” you mutter, shifting back to your place.

Halfway through the movie the lights come back on and Frankie bursts out laughing looking at you. “What?” you ask him with wide eyes “what is it that makes you laugh so much?”

“Your face” he grins “it's clearly painted on it how much you want that guy. He turns you on, huh?”

You roll your eyes “Oh my God! Can't you go sit somewhere else? Two rows down, look how many free seats there are”

“I like it better here”

You cuss, there’s no way to get rid of him.

He has something magnetic that destabilizes you, your eyes fall involuntarily on his neck, slide along his broad chest and stop at the crotch of his pants. From the way he sits you can clearly see that he is quite big.

“What are you looking at?” he asks you amusedly.

You immediately look up. “Nothing”

“Nothing my ass. Did you like what you saw?”

Fuck. He noticed. You're done for. You hate to make him understand that after all, yes, you like what you saw. He seems pleased, proud, you would so much like to wipe that little smile off his face. As much as you struggle to admit it to yourself, you like him.

“Well, maybe…after all, you look like a fun place to sit”

You can't believe you actually said that.

Frankie's response is not long in coming, his eyes immediately darken and his smile twists in a mischievous way.

The lights go out again and you feel him tug gently on your arm “come here, pretty”

He sits you down on his lap and as the movie starts again he whispers “was that what you wanted the whole time? Were you offended that I didn’t invite you?” you can clearly feel his smile spread across your skin just before he places his lips on your neck.

You would like to say something back but his closeness makes you confused and excited.

He sucks your skin like he's hungry and you moan in the dark "shh baby you gotta stay quiet while I give you what you want”

You don't know how but you find the strength to reply, "God, you're so arrogant.”

He tightens his hands on your hips, pulling you towards him, now you are practically sitting on his cock. You feel it pressing against your ass, trapped in his pants.

A rush of pleasure wets your pussy and you bite your lips to hold back another moan, you hear his hoarse voice in your ear “Maybe. You like it though” You hate to admit that he is right.

The heat of his body envelops you pleasantly, he raises a hand to one of your breasts and squeezes it over your shirt. You like his hands. They are big, expert and eager to touch you, they make your head spin.

You completely forgot about the movie, which seemed impossible to you, if they had told you you would have laughed in their face. In no universe would you have expected this.

“God” you whine “oh my God” His hand slides under your shirt and reveals your breast pulling down your bra, it is still covered but now you can feel his skin against yours. His fingers gently grasp one of your nipples, pulling and twisting it.

“Open your eyes, baby. Watch the movie like a good girl” his voice sounds authoritative, it irritates you and another rush of pleasure floods you at the same time.

“It’s not that easy” you mutter between your teeth as you feel his other hand dangerously approaching the hem of your skirt. He slowly goes up, as you try to hold back and make sure no one notices what he’s doing to you. Luckily, everyone seems enthralled by the film.

At this moment you don't even know why you started arguing so fiercely, if you had known before you would have tried to smooth things over a long time ago.

His fingers reach your panties, you feel them barely touching you and you already feel yourself burning with anticipation.

They move under your skirt, pushing your panties aside, grazing at your outer lips and then dipping inside you “Fuck, you’re soaking”

He moves them up and down between your folds, gathering your wetness towards your clit.

You feel his heavy breathing on your neck, his tongue running over your skin and his teeth nibbling on you.

“Fuck, Frankie” you cry

“Eyes to the movie”

You want to turn around and straddle him but there isn't enough room and Frankie holds you firmly anyway.

He applies pressure on your clit just right, starting to move two of his thick fingers in circle over it, the motion of his hand is partially hidden by the fabric of your skirt and your moans die in your throat one after the other. Frankie is rubbing away your sanity, you feel possessed and delirious under his touch.

Your last shred of control is torn by his fingers entering inside you, claiming your cunt as his, curling and scratching at your spongy spot.

Your eyes are still fixed on the screen but your vision is totally blurred, you see nothing, you understand nothing, you only feel Frankie pumping incessantly inside you while continuing to rub your clit with his thumb.

You feel the soft reverberation of his voice behind you, close to your ear “good girl, you're taking me so well”

The subtle Spanish accent in his voice now seems to you the most erotic sound in the world, sweet, melodious, addictive.

He takes you to the edge, you throw your head on his shoulder, shutting your eyes so everything goes black and you only feel him, until even biting your lips doesn't help anymore. He covers your mouth with his hand as you explode in a devastating orgasm, you moan against his skin, between his thick fingers that have just left your breast and you already miss them, feeling full and satiated by him.

He uncovers your mouth and kisses your neck, pressing his hand to your hip to keep you from slipping off his lap as your body trembles against his.

“Shit” you mutter “Frankie…oh my god”

“Do you think we can stop arguing all the time now?” He playfully says as he nuzzles at your hair.

“I don’t like being told what to do unless I’m naked, you know, I’m just like that” you reply, grinning and turning around to finally fix your eyes on his.

“I noticed it”

You take off his cap laughing and put it on backwards and before he starts to protest you kiss him deeply, licking into his mouth, tasting butter and salt on his tongue.

“Take me home”

“The movie isn't over yet,” Frankie observes, and you reply, “that means you'll have to take me to see it again and you’ll pay”

“Fine to me, princess”

#pedro pascal #frankie morales x you #francisco morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie catfish morales #one shot #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales smut #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #ppcu

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miupow · 10 months ago

Text

⭑𓂃 GETTING STONED W/ TXT .ᐟ ୭ ˚. [ HEADCANONS]

☆〜（ゝ。∂）txt x gn!reader ⋆ cw// drugs/marijuana mentions! sfw, tooth rotting fluff <𝟑 kissing, cuddling, implied established relationships

⤷ what i imagine it's like smoking with the boys . . .

연준 YEONJUN

i imagine him high is a lot like him drunk lol

soft, sleepy, cuddly and just the biggest baby whining that he wants kisses now

likes using your lap as a pillow for his head, the type to nuzzle his face in your belly and wrap his arms tight around you-- won't you play with his hair? tell him what an amazingwonderfulhandsome boyfriend he is?

tries very hard not to fall asleep on you but fails every time

pls take care of him :(

finds the other boys annoying when they're high lol but still does it with them because they're his baby brothers and he loves them no matter how much they piss him off <33

cannot smoke without you because he'd spend the entire sesh going "where's my baby?? i wanna see my baby, i miss them so much :(("

수빈 SOOBIN ⭑𓂃

the kind to just stare blankly at the wall for hours

"bin, you okay?" "uh huh..."

probably gets sensory overload easily, don’t have too much going on at once or he’ll get a headache :<

soogyu is my dream blunt rotation im gonna be honest they're so fucking funny they just be sayin shit

high bin says the some of funniest things you've ever heard in your life but he has no idea he's even being funny

"why are you laughing at me??? :(("

gasps when you tell him you love him even though you tell him every day

“REALLY??? I LOVE YOU TOO!!!”

will get into the dumbest arguments, especially with gyu?? “what do you think would happen if you put a werewolf on the moon…” “what the hell is wrong with you??”

“no, dumbass, that’s not even how ufos work. look it up.”

범규 BEOMGYU ⭑𓂃

true delulu headcanon time here but hear me out okay

he's so crazy adhd brain high energy when he's sober but i feel like when he's stoned he's so. chill?

put a movie on or something and he'll be quiet for hours he's just so transfixed by the moving colors and lights

just wants to cuddle with you in silence or like. talk about deep shit

you honestly kind of love it because you'll have conversations about your future and your relationship that gyu wouldn't take seriously sober

he's very upfront and straightforward with his feelings when he's stoned, which is so unlike him

says some corny shit with stars in his eyes like "i wanna spend forever with you" and then regrets it later because he sounded like a dweeb

he's so whipped for you and he can't hide it :<

let him lay on your chest, playing with his long pretty hair, calling him beomie while he looks up at you with hazy, unfocused but so in love eyes

again soogyu = dream blunt rotation gyu is so funny

“do crabs think fish are flying??” type mf i love him very much

태현 TAEHYUN ⭑𓂃

this might be an unpopular opinion but tyun is absolutely the biggest stoner out of the five of them

i feel like he would smoke to relax, not necessarily to get high-- he's on stress overdrive 24/7, especially during comeback season,, he smokes to finally make his brain go quiet for at least a night

big social smoker but also enjoys smoking alone or just with you

i see him the most like his sober self, quiet and content and not really paying much attention to anything

normally you have to fight him to get his picture taken but when he's stoned he'll just let you shove a camera in his face and you love it sm,, "tyunnie!! baby! smile!"

very content with letting you sit on his lap while he zones out, nuzzling his neck-- he loves feeling needed, loves taking care of you

thinks everyone else is very entertaining, just enjoys watching his brothers act like idiots

he's such a bottled up guy, doesn't like to show or talk about how he's feeling ;; but he'll open up easily once you get him loosened up

휴닝카이 HUENING KAI ⭑𓂃

i want to smoke with this boy so bad. it's not even funny.

he's so cuddly and sweet and giggly,,, i lob him,,

he gets too out of it to kiss you so he makes your plushies kiss eachother instead hehe

kiss his freckles :< just give him so many smooches all over his face while he laughs that it tickles

spooning is a need not a want. he'd rest his chin on the top of your head and hold you soso close while you lay on his bed watching a movie ;;

like soobin he probably gets overstimulated easily,, he needs the lights off and he likes when you wear soft/fuzzy clothes,, ur his plushie now :<

will not let you get up for anything at all. will literally follow you to the bathroom and wait outside of the door like a puppy

SOOO much skinship he needs to touch and be touched so badly

goes totally nonverbal when he's stoned. will not say a word for hours

TUMMY RUBS also lays his head on your belly ;;

thinks literally everything is funny. show him a picture of like. a horse and he'd laugh at it

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captain-hawks · 2 months ago

Text

BRIGHT AS THE MORNING/SOFT AS THE RAIN.

jean kirstein x f!reader

Jean Kirstein may have sharp teeth—but he seems to forget that you do, too.

wc: 3.9k tags: 18+ only, wolf shifter!jean, witch!reader, little witch as a pet name, enemies to lovers, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie, multiple orgasms, semi-public sex, outdoor sex, sex against a wall -> requested

No turning back now.

The glass vial is cool against your fingertips when you pull it from your back pocket, uncorking the stopper before bringing it to your lips and tipping its pale green contents onto your tongue. You fight back the full body shiver that threatens to wrack through you as the bitter liquid burns its way down your throat.

It tastes awful.

Flicking the empty container into a nearby garbage bin, you hastily wipe the back of your hand across your mouth, making a mental note to include a neutral additive next time you find yourself thumbing your way through your grandmother’s crumbling grimoire. The old coven never did pay any mind to the foul taste of their ancient elixirs.

Eyes darting to the neon sign hanging above the building across the street, its colors reflecting in the puddles strewn about the sidewalk out front, you sigh. Now for the annoying part.

You dog-eared the page on this vitality spell years ago, intrigued by the rejuvenating properties of the concoction that your grandmother’s gnarled old hands had once made use of in days long past. Most of the ingredients were easy enough to procure, and the elixir need only be saved for the full moon for maximum potency. A moon that hangs bright and heavy over a blissfully clear, star-speckled sky tonight.

But the reason why you’ve put off this tempting spell for so long is the final ingredient that you’ve now begrudgingly come to collect—shifter saliva.

Wolf shifter saliva, to be exact.

When you step through the front doors of the bar, you wrinkle your nose at the decidedly canine scent that invades your nostrils. Not that it can be helped, given that you’ve purposely chosen an establishment frequented by them to make this as quick and transactional as possible.

It’s not particularly ideal—traipsing around in a building full of wolf shifters on the full moon. While the waxing and waning crescent does not dain to dictate their transformations, their power finds an apex, just as yours does, on nights like this. You can feel the buzz of it in the air, licking against your skin, the tendrils of magic bearing an earthen touch.

It takes you all of ten minutes spent perched on a stool at the end of the bar to find yourself confidently approached by what appears to be an easy contender. A shifter who introduced himself as Eren now sits beside you, his dark brown hair half pulled back into a messy bun, knee lightly brushing against your own in a way that treads the line between a polite mistake and a subtle invitation.

He’s cute, and he’s caught your interest enough that you might even be willing to let him get a hand or two up your shirt when you inevitably stumble your way into a bathroom or alleyway to make out and swap spit. Nobody said you couldn’t at least try to get some enjoyment out of this, after all.

That is, until the last voice that you’re expecting to hear on this fine evening unceremoniously interrupts your conversation from somewhere behind you.

“And what do we have here?”

Stiffening, you turn to face none other than the head of the Trost pack in all of his annoyingly handsome and insufferable glory—Jean Kirstein.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter under your breath.

Jean ignores your comment, though there’s not a single doubt in your mind that his wolfy hearing picks up every word loud and clear.

“I think Armin’s looking for you,” he tells Eren.

Eren raises a brow, taking a slow sip from the glass in his hand. “Nah, I doubt that.”

He returns his gaze to you, but Jean steps closer, putting an arm around his shoulder as he leans in. “She’ll eat you alive, Jaeger. You know what she is, don’t you?”

Eren smiles, canine teeth on full display; it’s less friendly and more of a challenge. “I’m a big boy, Kirstein.”

Jean’s eyes flash, and he murmurs just loud enough for you to hear, “Take a fucking hint.”

There’s nothing remotely cordial in his tone now.

The two men are quiet as they stare at one another, the air thick with tension, and you can almost feel the shift when Eren’s hackles finally drop as he seems to think better of challenging Jean’s dominance. Looking at them side by side, you can’t say you blame him, though you’re loath to admit it.

“Whatever man.”

Eren offers you an apologetic nod, shooting Jean one last annoyed look before he disappears into the din of the bustling crowd. Meanwhile, the pack leader slides into the now-empty seat without preamble, all long limbs and unnervingly bright eyes, the sight of his messy brown hair and the hint of stubble on his jaw bothering you for reasons you have no desire to examine.

“Really?” you bite out.

Jean doesn’t answer you right away. Instead, he picks up Eren’s cup and takes a sip, lips immediately curling downward in disgust as he puts it back down and makes a brief gesture in the direction of the bartender. It’s only once a glass full of something else is placed in front of him that he finally looks at you.

“Hm?”

You wonder just how much trouble you’d land yourself in for punching a pack leader right here in the middle of a shifter bar. He takes a long pull from the glass, clicking his tongue against his teeth in satisfaction after.

Yeah, you’re definitely going to punch him.

“What the fuck was that about?”

Jean shrugs, smoothly dragging a coaster toward his drink with his middle finger and wiping away the ring of condensation left behind on the dark wood countertop with the side of his hand. When his eyes meet yours, the light brown of his irises nearly gold in this light, something hot unfurls in your chest.

“Believe me when I say you don’t want to fuck Eren Jaeger,” he replies evenly.

You scoff. “I wasn’t going to fuck him.”

He raises a brow and says nothing.

“I was just going to…why the fuck does this even concern you anyway, Kirstein?” you snap.

Elbow now placed on the counter, he leans his cheek into the palm of his hand, like he has nowhere better to be than mercilessly cockblocking you on a Friday night.

It’s ironic, really, given the origin of your perpetual disdain for him.

Maybe it’s a bit immature to hate a guy for turning down your tipsy advances on a night out with your friends.

They were all convinced he’d been staring at you from across the room for the better part of the evening. But the rough scrape of his words against the shell of your ear when you finally found the courage to approach him still echoes in the recesses of your mind all these years later—”Go home and sober up, little witch.”

It’s always bothered you more than it should, the sting of that casual rejection. Like he couldn’t even be bothered to entertain a moment of your company, if not a drunken kiss that would have very well been a dime a dozen at a place like that anyway.

What made it worse was all of the subsequent times you’ve had the misfortune of running into him after. He makes a game of it, flirting with you. Calling you little witch. Like he wants to subtly remind you of how you embarrassed yourself that night, to toy with you just for the sake of driving you to the brink of the relentless, burning ire you feel in waves every time you see him now.

“I know you have some problem with shifters, and you’re here on a goddamn full moon of all nights. So I’m just trying to make sense of this,” he says.

You narrow your eyes. “I have a problem with you.”

He puts his shoe on the metal rung of your stool beside your right foot, voice dripping with sarcasm as he replies, “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you can feel the tug of the unfinished spell swirling restlessly inside of you. Waiting. “I need wolf saliva.”

Jean’s brows shoot up, and it would almost be comical, if you weren’t so goddamn annoyed. He recovers just as quickly. “So you thought you’d waltz in here, suck face with some poor, unsuspecting pup for a bit and then break his little heart when you skip off back to your coven with your special ingredient?”

Well, he’s not wrong, per se.

“Oh, is that why you barged in on my conversation? You were worried about me hurting Eren’s feelings after I let him cop a feel in one of those dingy bathrooms over there?”

You swear Jean’s eye fucking twitches.

“Jaeger’s a bastard, and he’s not worth your time.”

A flash of hot anger prickles over your skin. “Why is who I kiss suddenly any of your concern now, Kirstein?”

You place emphasis on the ’now’ without quite meaning to.

Jean’s nostrils flare as he inhales. Without another word, he gets up and walks away.

And for whatever godforsaken reason, you stalk after him, fists tightly clenched at your sides.

After weaving through the crowd, you find yourself standing in the deserted back alley behind the building. You quickly regret your decision not to grab your jacket from the hook beside the door on your way out of your apartment, the air much more brisk now than it was when you left.

Jean whirls to face you, the look on his face softening a fraction when he sees the way you’ve wrapped your arms around yourself. He tugs off his leather jacket without fanfare, draping it around your shoulders before you have a chance to protest.

You hate how good it smells—the rich, woodsy scent that you’ve long-since come to associate with him, its musky notes almost dizzying at this dangerous proximity.

And as you unconsciously finding yourself soaking in the residual warmth that lingers in the material, you’re reminded of just how very hot shifters run.

“Walking away in the middle of a conversation is generally considered rude amongst most species,” you mutter, leaning on the brick wall and bending a knee to press a foot flat against it.

Jean drags a hand through his hair. “There are some conversations I prefer to have beyond the vicinity of a bunch of nosey wolves with good hearing.”

“What, you didn’t want your friends overhearing a witch tell you what a gigantic asshole you are?” you drawl.

Sighing heavily, he runs a hand over his face. “I find it mildly infuriating that you have zero fucking sense of self-preservation and thought that fooling around with a shifter you don’t even know during a goddamn full moon is somehow a good idea.”

He makes finger quotes at the last two words, and for whatever reason, that’s your last straw this evening.

Jean Kirstein may have sharp teeth—but he seems to forget that you do, too.

“Go fuck yourself, Kirstein,” you grit out. “I’m not even going to pretend to understand whatever kind of twisted amusement you get out of mocking me at every given chance. But do me a favor and go stick your mangy nose in someone else’s business, and maybe I will go back inside and fuck a shifter after all. There sure are plenty in there to choose from.”

Between one breath and the next, the space between you and Jean rapidly dissipates as he crowds you against the building, one hand resting beside your head.

“I don’t give a shit about whatever witchy little spell you’ve got cooking. I’m not letting any of those moon drunk idiots touch you,” he rasps.

His words do something to you, something that has rogue electricity expelling its way down your spine. Something that has you biting the inside of your cheek.

Something that makes it difficult to breathe.

“I already drank the elixir. I’ll probably get sick if I don’t finish the spell,” you retort.

The now-golden shade of Jean’s eyes up close is mesmerizing in a way that has your heart trembling against the shackles of your ribcage.

It makes sense right now—why your grandmother used to warn you about the wiles of shifters.

He huffs a small laugh, a warm puff of air filling the space between your faces. “You sure are confident.”

You glare at him, at the jab that you know the comment is meant to be. “Can you just let me go take care of this? It’s a harmless spell that’s the equivalent of a witchy energy drink. I’m sure you can point out at least one half decent shifter in there for me to chat up.”

Jean tucks part of his plush bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. “Why didn’t you just ask me?”

You can’t help it—you bark out a laugh right in his face. “You’re fucking joking, right?”

Something that can’t possibly be hurt flashes in his eyes. “No?”

“Why would I embarrass myself like that again?”

Jean blinks, tilting his head sideways in confusion. And the gesture would almost be cute—

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Exhaling in annoyance, you cross your arms. “You’ve already shot me down once, Kirstein.”

He straightens. “Are you…what? Seriously? You were drunk.”

A fresh wave of embarrassment prickles over you. “You shot me down and told me to go home like some child.”

“Because I didn’t want any of the shithead shifters that were lurking around that night to take advantage of you.”

Now that you’ve broken the dam, the words just keep on spilling out. “And you take advantage of every opportunity to make me feel stupid for coming on to you in the first place, even now years later.”

Jean looks taken aback. “Is that what you think I’ve been doing this whole time?”

You frown. “...yes?”

He pushes his hair back, and the way the brown strands relent and fall against his brows when his fingers move away has no right to look as attractive as it does. And yet—

Jean takes your wrist in his own and tugs you forward, until your positions are reversed, and he’s the one backed against the opposite wall of the alleyway while you stand before him. He doesn’t let go of your hand, and you find your fingers pressed to the soft fabric of his shirt.

The soft fabric and the feeling of his hot skin beneath—

“I turned you down because I don’t entertain drunk witches who think a night with a shifter is a novelty,” he says slowly, eyes never leaving yours. “And I flirt with you now because I like you. Even if you’re hellbent on hating me.”

You can feel his steady heartbeat beneath your palm.

“I don’t hate you,” you whisper, not quite certain if you’re more shocked that you said the words, or that you actually meant them.

You’re not sure what compels you to do it, to reach up and brush back a rogue strand of Jean’s hair. But it’s worth it for the way his eyes momentarily fall shut, his throat bobbing as he swallows.

“No?” he breathes out, voice a little rough.

You’ll marvel at the memory of this later, this sight of Jean Kirstein bathed in moonlight and bending to your touch.

“No,” you tell him.

Jean laughs quietly. “Then finish your spell already, little witch.”

There’s an odd sensation that ripples over you, a tug. Like the fire and brimstone of your magic feels the wind and earth in Jean’s, like it’s begging to touch—

Jean meets you halfway when you cup his face and begin to lean in.

And when his lips find yours, your magic sings.

It’s instant—the way you can feel the spell’s completion ripple through you as Jean’s mouth slots against your own, a sunny sensation fizzing in your veins.

It’s instant—and it’s how you know everything that follows has nothing to do with the elixir and everything to do with Jean.

Jean, Jean, Jean.

Your blood pulses everywhere Jean’s touching you—one hand cupping the back of your head, the other curled at your waist.

Your magic surges and shivers, cresting higher as he parts the seam of your lips with his tongue, deepening the kiss. A moan slips out of you of its own accord, and Jean growls softly.

As a shifter, Jean can’t wield the power that lives inside of him with his bare hands, not like you can. But you can feel every tendril of it as it curls around your own, as your magic grasps for his almost desperately.

Jean flips your positions, pressing your back to the wall once more, and his fingers press into the small of your back.

And his magic is hot and wild as it seeps into you, as he drags hot, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, as he groans rough and deep at the little keening sounds that tips out past your lips when his hips press into yours.

“Jean,” you whimper.

A plea.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, mouth hovering near the damp patch of skin he was just sucking at below your earlobe.

He’s so hard against you, his erection straining against the front of his pants.

You shake your head, pressing forward into him, and he groans, cupping your chin. His eyes bore into yours as he drags his thumb along your lower lip.

And then he’s dropping to his knees right there in the alley, thumb pressed to the swollen bud of your clit through your stockings as he pushes your skirt up out of the way.

“Were these expensive?” he asks casually.

You blink down at him in confusion. “No? They were like—“

Jean doesn’t wait for you to finish your answer before he nudges your thighs slightly further apart at the ankle and tears a hole in the stretchy black material right between your legs.

“It’s too cold for you to take them off,” he murmurs by way of explanation, as if your brain is capable of focusing on anything other than the feeling of him tugging aside your panties and dragging two fingers through your slick folds.

“Oh,” you gasp, knees already threatening to buckle.

Jean grasps your hip to steady you, eyes glinting in amusement as he stares up at you while he slides one thick finger into your tight channel.

“What kind of spell was that?” he teases, as if you’re not dripping fucking wet from him and him alone.

“N-not that kind,” you gasp as he sinks in knuckle-deep.

Jean seems pleased with this answer, slowly pumping the digit in and out of your aching cunt. You bury your face in his jacket to stifle your moans as you tremble in pleasure.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he rasps, the lewd squelching sounds only intensifying when he stretches you even further on a second finger.

Part of you wishes you were somewhere soft and horizontal, so you could feel the slide of his tongue on yours in a messy, spit-soaked kiss while he fingers you deep and slow until you’re a whimpering, sobbing mess.

You wish you were naked and pliant beneath him, feeling the touch of his burning hot skin against your own from head to toe.

But the fantasy is short-lived, tucked away for another time when Jean brings his mouth between your legs and laps a firm, broad stroke through your slit. When he groans at the taste of you, large hands tugging your legs even further apart as he buries his tongue in your cunt and begins to devour you whole.

Because when he pauses to look up at you, to marvel the way you can hardly hold back your keening sounds as he fucks you with his tongue—he looks just as wrecked as you. Just as desperate and unwound with his mussed hair and golden eyes and your slick, sticky arousal painted all over his face.

It’s what has your hands winding in his hair before you can even reach your impending climax, dragging him upward for a filthy kiss as your fingers scramble for purchase against the button of his pants.

Jean hisses when you get your hands on his cock, and your now-empty cunt spasms around nothing while you stroke his girth.

“Jean, please,” you pant against his lips.

You can feel your stockings rip even further when Jean hoists you up, the bricks pressing into your back as you wrap your legs around him. The material is soaked with spit and arousal as he pushes your panties aside once more and lines his cock up with your dripping entrance.

And it’s all encompassing—the way your magic explodes in a burst of heat and energy as his cock plunges into you, every cell in your body vibrating with searing hot pleasure like nothing you’ve ever felt before.

“What the fuck—“ Jean chokes out, groaning as he kisses you hard, his grip on your hips tightening beyond measure.

You know he feels it, too.

“I know,” you gasp, and he takes your lower lip between his teeth.

The pleasure surging inside of you begs for release, your muscles tensing harder with each deep, thick stroke of his cock against your slick walls.

He’s all you can see. All you can smell and feel and taste. You want to feel him everywhere, want to let his magic sink so deeply into yours that you lose where you end and he begins.

You’re so fucking drunk on Jean Kirstein, you might laugh—if you could do anything but moan and whimper and sob his name right now, that is.

“Jean I’m close—“ you whisper, voice breaking.

“Then come on my cock,” he murmurs. “Let me feel you come all over my cock, pretty witch.”

Your pleasure erupts in a gushing flood of euphoria, and your walls expanding and contracting rapidly on the stretch of Jean’s length as he fucks you through your orgasm until his own thrusts grow sloppy, too.

“Come inside of me,” you breathe out, feeling the way Jean tenses and growls at your plea.

“Fuck,” he groans, cock still pumping into your fucked out hole in deep, rough strokes. “You feel so good, fuckfuck—“

Jean comes hard, burying himself to the hilt when his cock begins to pulse inside of you, filling your cunt with rope after rope of sticky, hot cum until it begins to leak out and drip down your thighs.

—and without warning, your pussy spasms as you climax once more in an unexpected surge of pleasure that has you whimpering and shaking in its wake.

There’s a exhilarating, magical edge to it.

Jean stares at you, lips slightly parted as he marvels at the sight.

“Was that—“

“Well the spell called for spit, not cum,” you exhale shakily, cunt fluttering as he pulls out, and you whine.

He watches you closely as he brings a hand between your legs, slowly rubbing your swollen, over-sensitive clit.

”Oh,” you breathe out, fingers digging into the front of his shirt.

You rock your rips into his touch, and all it takes is the tease of the pad of his fingers circling around your tight hole to have you coming again on his fingers.

“Wow,” he murmurs against your lips, lazily slipping a digit back inside of you to feel the sloppy mess of cum that’s dripping out of you.

And it still feels so good.

“I think I fucked up the spell,” you gasp, already on the edge of another orgasm.

“I think I can help you take care of that,” Jean rasps, kissing his way down your jaw to sink his teeth into the soft, plush curve between your shoulder and neck.

#jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #aot #shingeki no kyojin #jean kirschstein #jean kirschstein x reader #dee writes #dee's 2k

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gretavangroupie · 10 months ago

Text

Edible

Word count: 16.0k

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Drugs. Smut: Kissing, Touching, Oral M!Receiving, Fingering, Oral F!Receiving, Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex, Breeding Kink (if you squint), Cum Play. Major Fluff.

A/N: The very last part of our four part Valentine's Day Mini Series I've been working on along with my best pal, @sacredstarcatcher! We had so much fun writing these, and we hope that you enjoy Jake's story to wrap things up! Thank you so much for reading these one shots over the last few weeks, maybe we will do it again soon! ❤️

Usually, Valentine’s day wasn’t a holiday that bothered you. As a single person in your mid 20’s, it’s almost expected that you dread the 14th of February. The years before and between relationships never bothered you, but as you slip into your pajamas at 7:50pm on a Friday night that also happens to be Valentine’s day, the realization that you’re alone hits a little harder.

You shuffle down the stairs in your slippers and matching PJ set, your destination being the bottle of red wine in the fridge. As you stand in front of the door and look at the dry erase calendar on your freezer, you avoid acknowledging the little heart you drew around the number 14 when you were clearly in better spirits. You also happen to see the little sticker that lives permanently above the column of Fridays. Trash day.

Letting your head fall back, you groan at the ceiling before turning on your heel towards the trash can. Lifting the half-full bag out and tying it off, you consider whether or not you really need to take the bin out to the curb… It’s so, so cold, and you’ve had a tough day already.

Shaking your head, you pull yourself out of your thoughts and decide to grow up. You get moving and elbow the door open, wincing as the cold air hits your skin. The short sleeve shirt and matching shorts combination are really not on your side at this moment as you jog down the four stairs towards the spot where your trash bins live.

It’s a minute of wrestling before you get the bag in and flip the top closed, grabbing the handle and beginning to wheel it towards the end of your driveway. The rattling of the plastic wheels is so damn loud you feel like you’re waking up half your neighborhood. Oh, wait. They’re probably all out for Valentine’s day. You can’t help but roll your eyes as you kick the bin upright and position it on the patch of grass near the curb.

As you’re about to turn and head inside, you hear rumbling coming from across the street. When you raise your head and try to focus despite the limited light from the streetlamps and the clouded moon, you see your neighbor from across the street. For a moment you feel a little vulnerable in your pajama set, legs bare and no bra, but then you see he’s shirtless, a thin bathrobe over his shoulders and down his back, but it’s hanging open, giving way to show you his tanned chest and stomach. His sweatpants are hanging sinfully low on his hips, and even though you’re all the way across the street, you can see there’s just a tiny bit of hair peeking out from above his waistband.

He has his head down as he does almost the same exact thing you did- he shimmies the bin into position on the curb and makes sure it’s closed tight, left with some defense against the wind. His hair is in a low, messy bun, some stray strands of hair framing his face.

As you stare at him from the shadows across the street, realizing you’re probably giving off way weirder vibes than intended, you think back on when you’ve seen him and try to remember his face. As you think, there’s a silhouette of a cat in his front window, a warm glow behind it. And then the memory comes to you.

There was one afternoon when you had first moved in, the summer, seven or eight months ago. He came and knocked on your door, a pair of sunglasses on, his shirt unbuttoned and paired with some breezy linen pants. You answered the door in confusion, but were friendly regardless.

“Hi. I’m, uh, I’m Jake. I’m your neighbor. I live across the street?” He said, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.

“Right, right. Hey. I’m Y/N.” You answered with a slightly concerned smile. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, um,” he started, wiping the corners of his mouth with his thumb and forefinger as he gathered his thoughts. You watched as he crossed his arms over his chest in almost a nervous habit.

“Do you wanna come in?” You offered, but he shook his head no, waving you off casually.

“No, no. I actually just have a weird and maybe cumbersome favor to ask of you.” He said, his confidence building as the conversation went on. You raised your eyebrows, a little confused, but wordlessly encouraging him to go on.

“There’s this cat that lives in my house and I usually leave him with my brother’s girl when I travel, but she’s actually tagging along, so I’m kind of in a pinch and need someone to feed the thing.” He said. You gave him a look of playful confusion.

“That’s a weird way to say you have a cat.” You quipped, laughing.

“I’m not keeping it! I just don’t want it to get hungry or get hit by a car or something.” He said, laughing through his words. Before you can poke any more fun at him, he keeps talking.

“He’s a grazer, so he really just needs his big ass bowl refilled once a day and he’ll be fine,” he said, flashing you a little smile. “And water.”

You considered it for a moment, but he had such a way about him that there was no way you would be able to say no.

“Okay. Yeah, sure. For how long?” You asked, leaning on the door frame. He fished out a key from his pocket, handing it over as he spoke. It was brass and there was a little soccer ball keychain attached.

“Just for the weekend. I’ll be back Sunday night.” He said with a little excitement in his voice. Holding his spare key in your hand, you nodded and gave him a polite smile.

“I can do that. For sure.” You reassured him as he leaned from foot to foot, almost like he had somewhere to be.

“I fed him just now and I’m about to head out, but when you go in, the kitchen is on the left and his bowl is there. The food is in the bin with… with the food. It’s clear so… you can see it.” He said, taking a few steps backwards. “He also bites, but he’ll probably hide from you anyway, so don’t sweat it!” He added, jogging down the two stairs to the sidewalk.

“O-okay!” You answered, perplexed but charmed. He shouted across the road to thank you before he hopped into his car and backed out of his driveway.

When you eventually went over to his house the next day, you opened the door cautiously, not wanting to sneak up on the cat who you were warned would bite you. After a moment of wondering why you agreed to this, you shrugged and pushed the door open gently. As if the cat was waiting for Jake himself but then realized it was you, he went flying by so quickly you only heard the thump of his paws and the jingle of his collar. Your eyes almost immediately found the big bowl in the kitchen, sitting in the middle of a little placemat. ‘DAVY’ was etched into the porcelain, so you figured it had to be his. Like Jake mentioned, there was the bin of food about a foot away.

You didn’t see the cat a single time that weekend. Sunday morning, after you fed him the last time, you left the key on the hook near Jake’s front door and locked it from the inside. You didn’t hear from him, but one day when you got home from work, there was a bottle of wine on your welcome mat with a card underneath, wax sealed with care. Inside, you found a card with a short note of thanks and his name signed in indigo ink.

You’re pulled back to the present as a car flies down your street, headlights flashing in your peripherals. The light pulls his attention too, and it’s seconds before he notices you across the street. He raises one open hand, giving you a casual wave. You smile and wave your hand back and forth, a polite, neighborly greeting.

“Look at you, all dressed up. Big plans tonight?” He says, projecting his voice all the way across the street. Your eyes widen in embarrassment, realizing he’s absolutely calling you out for being outside in your pajamas.

“Oh! Ha. Yeah.” you say, the laugh incredibly forced, your nerves turning you into an awkward, stiff mess. Freezing cold, nervous, and a little embarrassed, you give him another quick wave and scurry inside your house, disappearing. You close the door and snatch the bottle of wine from your fridge, taking the bottle and glass with you into the living room.

You practically dive under the blanket on your sofa and wrap it around you in a hurry. As you reach for the bottle of wine and pour yourself a little glass, you hear your phone buzz from somewhere in the couch cushions. Fishing it out from under your thigh and some layers of blanket, you squint and turn the brightness down immediately.

You have a few notifications from instagram and other apps, and one text from an unsaved number.

???

8:08pm: Sorry for being weird, lol

It has to be Jake. You hop up from the couch and shuffle to the bulletin board and dry-erase calendar on your freezer to see the torn piece of paper pinned to it. Comparing the two numbers, you confirm it’s the same. That leaves you frozen as you try to figure out how to respond.

You

8:10pm: Oh no worries, you were right. I’m clearly staying in tonight 🍷

When you get back to the couch, nuzzling yourself back under your blankets, you look over your shoulder and out the window at his house. There are a few lights on and the cat’s silhouette has disappeared from the window.

You decide to save his number quickly before finally taking a few sips of your wine.

Jake - Neighbor

8:13pm: Likewise. I’m about to take an edible and spend the rest of my romantic evening falling down a youtube wormhole.

Laughing, you think of something clever to send back. It takes a while because everything you come up with seems to be toeing the line of flirty and friendly.

You

8:17pm: Sounds fun... If you open your curtains a little more I could probably watch along. 🙂

Jake - Neighbor

8:20pm: Or you could accompany me down said wormhole, meaning we both won’t have to lie about being alone on Valentine’s day tomorrow?

You’re immediately conflicted. This guy is your neighbor, and although he seems friendly, this feels like the beginning of a terrible Hallmark movie or even worse, one that went straight to Netflix. You think about the invitation as you stare at your glass of wine on the coffee table next to your kindle. It couldn’t hurt to just go hang out for a little while… right? It would be good to get to know him. Maybe you could convince him to mow your lawn over the summer or something.

Not to mention he’s cute. Your mind flashes back to the way he looked glowing under the streetlights, his messy bun and the tan line on his hips that you need to stop thinking about before your mouth begins to water.

You

8:21pm: Lol are you serious? I don’t want to intrude

You bite at your lip nervously, waiting for him to reply. The little bubbles that indicate he’s typing make your stomach churn as you look over your shoulder and out the window once more. There’s a little bit of a glow coming from the other side of his house now and you see his shadow move across the window.

Jake - Neighbor

8:22pm: It’s not intruding if I’m inviting you.

It doesn’t take much convincing on his end, if any. You down the last of your wine for courage and ditch the blanket on the couch. Heading up the stairs, you grab the cardigan you left hanging over the banister and pick out something to wear. The matching jammies clearly aren’t appropriate, but you don’t want to dress like you’re trying too hard.

You

8:25pm: Should I bring anything?

Standing in your closet for a few minutes, you ultimately land on a pair of yoga pants and an old t-shirt, a soft baby blue Rush tee with the band’s name spelled out in big, rainbow bubble letters. It was once your dad’s, but lives in your wardrobe as a slightly cropped version now.

Jake - Neighbor

8:26pm: Nope. Just yourself. Need the address? 😉

Pulling on the cardigan, you tug the back of it down a little to assure you’re not showing up with your ass on display from the get-go. You stand at the door with nothing but your phone and keys, bracing yourself for however this Valentine’s night is about to go.

You

8:28pm: I think I remember how to get there. I’m on my way 🙂

—

You pull your sleeves down over your hands as you climb the steps to his porch, the freezing cold wind whipping through your cardigan as if it wasn’t even there. You rap your knuckles against the wooden door, a small wave of nerves rushing through your body as you wait for him to answer. You hear his footfall against the wooden floors as he makes his way to the door, and as he opens it you feel a rush of warmth as the heat from inside blows past you.

His eyes subconsciously look you over and as he realizes he pulls his eyes away, letting them dart around for a few seconds before landing on your face. He offers a shy grin and swallows down his nerve. “Any trouble finding the place?” he jokes, giving you a small glimpse of his real smile.

“Oh yeah, traffic was awful...” you quip back, watching his full smile bloom across his face.

“Come in, come in. I know it’s cold out there.” he says, ushering you inside. The house is very different from the last time you’d seen it. More art on the walls, a new rug or two, and most importantly there were lights on. A fire is going in the fireplace, the logs crackling drawing you into his home further.

“Your home is beautiful. I’m suddenly insanely jealous that I don't have a fireplace.” you smile, gesturing towards the beautiful brick hearth.

“Thanks, I try to do what I can here and there. What’s a home if you can’t enjoy the time you spend in it…” he ponders, suddenly flicking his attention back to you. “I could…show you around if you want, it’s kind of a mess at the moment…” he pauses, rubbing his fingers over his lips as his eyes scan the room. You can tell he is feeling put on the spot and your chest warms at his underlying hospitality.

“That’s okay, I know you were totally not planning on having a guest.” you laugh, hoping to ease his anxiety.

“Yeah, I’m not here too often, and when I am, things kind of get strewn around and forgotten. It’s actually a fluke that I’m here now. Which brings me back to the part about enjoying the house while I’m here.” he says, trying to unnecessarily justify his lived in space.

Your mind wanders as you recall his empty driveway the past few weeks, and you try to piece together if you ever remember him mentioning what he does for work, or why he’s gone so often. You hardly ever see him coming and going, just the glow from his windows on rare occasions.

He pulls you from your thoughts and you refocus on him, realizing that he too, has changed into different clothes. He’s added a slightly wrinkled black button down shirt to a pair of equally as wrinkled khaki pants, rolled at the ankle. To anyone else this would seem like a strange choice to hang out on the couch, but on him it seemed fitting, almost like these were his relaxing clothes.

“Can I get you anything to drink, or?” he asks, gesturing towards the kitchen, a tiny little sliver of his stomach peeking from beneath the frayed hem, showcasing an unseasonably dark tan.

“Sure, um I will take some water?” you squeak out, trying to pretend you weren’t just staring at his waist.

“Okay, you can just… sit wherever. I'll be right back.” he says nodding towards the couch. He walks off into the kitchen as you venture into his living room, the fireplace providing the perfect ambience for such a cold night. His couch isn’t huge, but it does seem comfortable. A few throw pillows are tossed to one side, giving you the hint that he was previously occupying the other side. You move a few of the pillows towards the center and position yourself at the opposite side on the chaise lounge, as you let your eyes glance around the room. The walls are dark and covered with art, and bookshelves line most of the walls. A large TV sits just to the left of the fireplace, the video he was previously watching paused and awaiting his return.

You relax into the couch cushions, closing your eyes and listening to the perfect crackling sound of the fireplace. The glass of wine from earlier is seeping into your bones and you’re suddenly feeling just a little bit more relaxed. Jake returns a few seconds later, offering you a glass filled to the brim with ice water.

“I didn’t know if you wanted ice or not, so I just made it how I like it.” he says, falling back into his place on the couch. He tosses a few of the throw pillows between you, down onto the ground so that there is less of a barrier, before kicking his feet up onto the coffee table.

“Where’s your little kitty cat?” you ask, turning to face him. “Or did you find him a home after all…”

“Who? Ol’ Davy Jones?” he asks, an air of underlying affection in his tone. “Ahh, that little vagrant is around here somewhere. Truthfully, I just haven’t even had time to think about finding him a home.”

You smile because you can tell he is lying. “That’s funny, because it’s been what? Almost a year now?”

“Has it… Hmmm.” he says, staring off into space. “I’m sure he’ll be around, he’s a curious little thing.”

“You know they say that you shouldn’t name pets that you don’t plan to keep…” you press, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

“Well…” he pauses. You can see the gears turning in his head as he tries to piece together an excuse. “He wasn’t responding to ‘hey you feline’, so I was practically forced into giving him a name. You know how these things go. I really am going to find him a good home one of these days when I have the time.”

You nod your head with a smile, as he shakes his own head, stifling back a guilty grin.

“So that is why he has a food bowl with his name on it, right?”

“Aye, aye, what’s with the twenty questions, hm?” he barks, tossing a throw pillow towards you. You catch it and hug it to your chest, resettling into your place.

“Oh, no reason. Just trying to get to know my neighbor and his cat, that’s all.” you say with a cheeky smile.

“He’s not my cat. He just lives in my house.” he says finally, feigning arrogance. “Anyways, tell me about you…”

“Not a whole lot to know, I just moved here, well almost a year ago now, for work. I go to work, come home, watch trashy TV and cook, and sometimes on the weekends I catch some friends at the bar. I also occasionally feed my neighbor's cat. Oh, and spend most holidays alone, which is how I ended up here.” you laugh, not wanting to give too much away.

“Well, I’m glad that you did, I’m rather enjoying having company for once. Listen, I was serious about the edible if you…” he trails off, nervously licking over his lips.

“Oh, yeah of course. Let’s do it.”

He stands from the couch, walking across the room and rummaging around in a backpack on the floor. The first thing he pulls out is an eyeglass case, tucking it under his arm. Then he reaches back in, searching for a moment more, before he pulls out a small black bag and returns to the couch, opening it up as he sits. He places the black glasses case on the table, then picks it up again, making sure there are actually glasses inside before closing it and putting it aside for later.

“Oh Jesus, Josh…” he mutters under his breath. He licks his lips and turns to look at you. “Okay, so, apparently they are peach ring gummies. My brother gave them to me, but didn’t specify the variety.”

“That’s actually fine, I love peach rings.” you blush.

“Really? Okay, good. I thought–” he stops himself with a smile. “Okay, ladies first, how much do you want?

“Um, how much are you gonna have?” you ask, letting your eyes flick up to his.

“Dunno…” he says, inspecting the bag for the details. “Okay, probably half. You think you can do half, or do you want a quarter?”

“I think it should be an even playing field, I’ll do half if you do half.” you answer.

“Whatever you say…” he says with a smile, trying to pull apart the sticky yellow and orange gummy. It stretches beyond belief and he stops. “Okay, so. I think you’re going to have to bite it.”

“Are you sure?” you ask hesitantly.

“Yeah, it’s no big deal, you just take half and I’ll take the rest.” he says, leaning over to place it in your hand. You bring it to your lips, biting half of the gummy with your eyes locked on him. He doesn’t dare blink as he watches your mouth, the sugar crystals collecting on your lips. You see him swallow as you pull it from your lips and hand the remainder back to him. He quickly pops it into his mouth and starts to chew.

Both of you look at each other as you swallow it down, sour looks on both of your faces as the flavor of the strain shines through.

“That was… not my favorite gummy I’ve ever had.” he winces, clearing his mouth of the flavor.

“I think it was okay…I’ve definitely had worse.” you laugh, taking a sip from your glass of water.

“I can’t believe I traded my good blunts for that.” he says, thinking back with a shake of his head. “So, what do you think we should watch? A movie? A TV show? Youtube?” he rattles off.

“What would you watch if I wasn’t sitting here right now?” you ask, leaning your body into the arm rest.

His demeanor quickly changes, his cheeks blushing and his tone growing a bit bashful. “If you weren’t here? Um, probably just youtube videos.” he answers, reaching for the remote on the coffee table.

“Okay, but what kind of youtube videos? What fascinates you…”

He fidgets with the buttons on the remote, trying to decide if he should lie or be honest. His eyes flick up to the TV, then over to you. “Mostly history stuff, like old shipwrecks and stuff. Or maybe sailing videos or guitar videos, I don’t know.”

You can tell he chose to be honest, his fingers still scratching at the buttons on the remote as he waits to see what you’re going to say.

“Okay so do it. Show me your favorite shipwreck. Enlighten me a little…”

“Really?” he asks, a look of shock painted across his face.

“Yeah, why not? I like that kind of stuff too. It’s interesting.”

“Yeah, yeah it is really interesting. Okay, hold on.” he grins, clicking the remote to life and returning to youtube. He scrolls to his favorites and makes his way through what has to be a hundred videos, until he finds what he’s looking for.

“Alright, I know this is a little bit boring at the beginning, but I swear it gets better. I actually learned about this first hand at this little museum in the UK last year, and I really fixated on it, and had to immediately consume every piece of media I could find about it. If you hate it we can turn it off, it’s just… really cool if you can make it through it.” he explains, and you smile watching his eyes light up talking about it.

You smile and nod as he clicks on the video titled, ‘Ghosts of the Mary Rose’. He settles back into the couch, balancing the remote on his knee, and slinging his arm across the back of the couch. You can’t help but notice the proximity of his fingertips as they rest just inches away from your shoulder. The fireplace is still roaring, and the edible is starting to kick in, and you come to terms with the fact there is no place you’d rather be than sitting here learning about this old boat.

Oddly enough, Jake wasn’t wrong. This was one of the cooler shipwrecks you’d learned about, and the fact that he saw it in person made it even better. He proceeded to talk through most of the video, further extrapolating on the points they were making, but explaining them better, in a way that was so purely Jake.

It was clear history was a passion of his, his eyes simply glowing with pride as he spoke about what he knew about this wreck and others similar. You could tell that he was dying for someone, just anyone, to ask him a single question about it, and tonight, you gave him that and more.

You wondered if he had people in his life that indulged him on this regularly, or if he kept it bottled up inside. The way he spoke about it so quickly, stumbling over his words just to get them out, had you thinking that maybe it was the latter, and you suddenly couldn’t bear the thought of him ever feeling lonely.

After what had to be an hour or so, the gummy had met its full potential in your bloodstream. The two of you sat almost mute, staring at the TV screen as he selected videos for you to dive into, but little did he know that it wasn’t the TV you were fixated on. It was the glaring image of his hands as they reflected into the mirror hanging over his fireplace. You watched as they moved, the way his fingers wielded the remote, and the way his fingers would twitch every so often, quickly stifled back by the folding of his hands. You stopped yourself from turning your head to look at them, knowing that if you did you wouldn’t be able to pull your eyes away.

They seemed large. Slightly larger than the average man’s hands, but they also seemed well manicured. Perfectly manicured actually, as if they were his top priority in his grooming habits. His nails were perfectly trimmed, no nicks or cuts, just perfectly tanned hands that tapped away against his thighs. You pulled your eyes away from the mirror to reach for your water, the dry mouth starting to take effect.

You drank down half of the glass, and you could almost feel his eyes on you as you did so. You placed the glass back down, and allowed yourself one look at him, finding that you were correct in the feeling of his eyes fixed on you. His entire mood had shifted, you could tell he was feeling completely relaxed as he lounged on his couch. His eyes were a little red, slightly droopier than usual, and his cheeks flushed pink. His legs were crossed on the coffee table, and his bare foot bobbed along to the sound of the video playing in the background.

You’re not sure if it's the fireplace, the edible, or the man sitting next to you devouring you with his eyes, but you start to feel warm and need to remove your sweater before you burst into flames. You pull the knitted fabric over your arms, and toss it to the floor, leaving you in just your cut off tee, and you swear you see his eyes widen a bit as he takes in the sight of your torso.

In the silence, you hear a faint jingling. He doesn’t seem to notice, but you do, and your eyes shoot to the entryway. His cat trots into the room, probably only expecting Jake, but as soon as he lays eyes on you, he puffs up and hops straight up into the air, then bolts back the way he came, his paws skittering across the floor in a flurry.

The sound makes Jake’s head turn, pulling his eyes from your body and over towards the source of the noise.

“Oh my god, he’s real…” You say in amazement, a smile creeping onto your lips. Jake rolls his eyes at the cat’s dramatics, leaning back to see if he can catch where he went.

“Daaaavvvyyyy…” he calls out in a faux-cockney accent, his voice low and gravelly, rumbling through the house. You would be lying to yourself if you said it didn’t make your stomach flip.

“He’s not a fan of me, I don’t think.” You comment, looking in the direction the tiny black cat ran.

“Don’t think he likes anyone but me, honestly. Bites and scratches the absolute hell out of my brother’s girlfriend whenever she watches him for me.” He says with a chuckle, craning his neck to try and see the cat. He makes a quiet pspspsps sound, but Davy is nowhere to be seen or heard.

“When I found ‘em, he was under a dumpster behind a… a bar.” He says, sitting back up to look at you. “He was practically shouting at me as I walked by, like he was calling for help. So I walked over thinking it was like, a fuckin’ baby or something. I don’t know.”

You grin as he tells the story, which you’re finding quite endearing.

“He called you over? Oh, he’s bold.”

“Sure is. So I wrapped him up in my shirt and put him in the passenger seat… he seemed too little to eat the crunchy little cat food, so I went to the store and got some milk… I didn’t fuckin’ know what to do.” He chuckles and itches his nose, his eyes flicking to yours as he realizes you’re invested in the story and listening with bated breath.

“We got home and he drank some… had a little milk mustache and everything. He seemed to feel better when I got him into the heat, so I made him a deal. He could sleep in the bathroom for the night if he hit the road and left town the next morning.”

“I see that worked out.” You quip, giving him a knowing smile.

“Yeah, the five-pound rapscallion didn’t hold up his end. Owes me a thousand souls now.”

You hum with raised brows as you nod, letting him go on.

“I actually…” he starts, fishing his cell phone out of his pocket he taps and scrolls as he talks. “I actually woke up the next morning and caught the poor thing asleep in a pair of me old dirty trousers.” He says, a little bit of that accent slipping in again. He turns his phone around and shows you a photo of Davy curled into a tiny ball inside a pair of patchwork denim pants, a few different shades of blue.

“Oh my god…” you mumble, popping out your bottom lip.

“Lookit his tail over his nose. How was I supposed to show ‘em the door?” He says, flashing you a grin.

“But you’re still gonna rehome him, huh?” You shoot in his direction, your tone accusatory.

“Should we watch something else? Got any requests?” he asks, gesturing toward the TV with the remote.

“Mmm, you said you liked guitar videos, right? What’s your favorite guitar video of all time?” you ask, crossing your ankles as you stretch out on the chaise.

“That is quite the loaded question, lass.” he quips, tapping the remote to his lips. His full, pink, totally kissable lips. Wait, he’s your neighbor. You have to stop.

“Can you narrow it down to a genre?” he asks, flicking his eyes over to you. He takes a deep breath and bites his lips together waiting for your answer.

“How about…I don’t know, rock? Rock n’ Roll, specifically.” you smirk.

“I know a thing or two.” he chuckles, scrolling through his favorites.

“Ahh, okay this one. This one right here. This man was instrumental in my–” he stops, clearing his throat. “He is one of the greatest musicians I’ve ever witnessed.” he finishes.

“Oh, who is it?” you ask, watching him select the video.

“Pete Townshend.” he answers, starting the video. “He is an incredible guitarist, but that isn’t what makes him great in my opinion. He has this special ability to write insanely powerful rock songs where the guitar isn’t the main focus, or even the main instrument. His work with The Who is just… He isn’t flashy just for the show of it, because he didn’t have to be. His skill speaks for itself and that in itself is an accomplishment.”

“Wow, you know a lot about him. Would you say he is your favorite, then?” you ask.

“Ahh, I don’t know. I have a lot of favorites. A lot of influences I suppose. Lots of people who shaped me.” he answers, and slowly but surely you start to realize he is letting you know him more and more with each passing second, and you’re hanging on his every word.

“Shaped you?” you ask, trying to squeeze yourself through the tiny crack in his armor.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom. You need anything while I’m up?” he says, standing up slowly and effectively shutting you out. His half smile is a little guilty, which tells you he’s well aware of what he just did.

“I’m okay.” You answer, giving him a knowing smile as he shuffles out of the room, the sound of his bare feet on the hardwood the only sound under the music playing quietly from the tv.

It’s a minute or two before he gets back and this time when he comes to sit on the couch, he lays across the cushions on his stomach, grabbing the pillow to your left and tucking it between his arm and his head. He’s so, so close to you now, the smell of his shampoo making its way over to you when he nuzzles his head against the pillow. Once he’s completely comfortable, he takes a deep breath and then speaks softly.

“I’m a musician. So. When I said ‘shaped me,’ I meant it almost literally.” His voice sounds a little different when his cheek is smushed into the throw pillow.

“So I’m guessing you play guitar?” you say, blinking up at the TV as the man on the screen’s fingers crawl across the frets.

“I do.” He says it simply, but not in a way that’s short. You look down at his right hand, bent at the elbow and holding on to the pillow. At this distance, you can see there’s a little indent around his middle finger, like he wears a ring of some sort.

“I don’t really have any… creative talents. So I think that’s really impressive.” Your words are quiet and you’re trying to coax him back out of his shell. He lifts his head from the pillow, and when he’s looking up at you from below, his glassy brown eyes are enough to make your heart melt. You have to blink a few times through the brain fog to really focus on them, and when you do, your pulse quickens.

“I’m sure that’s not true. What do you do?” He asks softly, and luckily, he doesn’t seem to notice the way you’re staring at him.

“It’s very true. I’m an accountant.” You answer, laugh bubbling out of you at the absurdity of it all. “Literally the opposite of creative.”

He breaks into a grin, laughing with you for a second or two, and you think it’s the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard.

“...Alright. You got me there. We can watch something else…” He says, looking for the remote, and you mourn the loss of eye contact.

“No, no! I wanted you to pick something you’d watch even if I wasn’t here, and you did. Plus, I kinda like your commentary. This stuff is all new to me.” You say, and he chuckles softly. He rests his head on the pillow again, his arm grazing yours unintentionally. He pays it no mind.

“If you say so.”

After another two videos accompanied by Jake’s narration, you find yourself so hungry, you think you might be withering away. When there’s a lull in his commentary, you whisper into the dim room from behind him.

“Is it normal to feel like I need a snack so urgently I might pass away?”

He stretches a little, rolling over to look at you again. You give him a slow smile, your eyes squinting as your cheeks push them closed.

“I can go see what I have… It’s been a minute since I’ve been home but there’s probably–”

“No!” You interject, sitting up a little more. He jumps at the motion, a little startled. “I have this tray of chocolate covered strawberries in my fridge! My coworker called in today, and her boyfriend sent her like two dozen of them, so obviously I brought them home.”

“Oh hell yeah.” He answers, smiling back at you.

“I’ll be right back!” You say excitedly, hopping off the couch and swiping your keys off the table. You quickly slip on your shoes and head for the front door, darting out into the cold night.

It’s not long before you’re kicking the refrigerator door shut and sneaking back out into the windy February air. As you cross the street you see his door open, and once you’re close enough, you duck inside. He takes the box from you right away as he shuts the door.

After putting it down on the table near his front door, he reaches for your bare arms, rubbing them to warm you up. He laughs softly as you smile up at him.

“You didn’t bring your sweater, you absolute maniac…” he chides playfully, and you laugh in response, a chill running up your spine. His hands are so warm and his presence so comforting that you find yourself resisting the urge to wrap yourself up in him.

“I didn’t think it would be that cold.” you mumble, trying to keep your teeth from chattering.

“Oh, you thought the cold snap had just let up suddenly?” he asks with a sarcastic inflection, and you roll your eyes with a smile as he lets go of your arms. “Figured it was probably a cozy 27 degrees instead of 22?”

You pick the strawberries back up and walk past him, back toward the living room to take your seat again. Before you can offer him a snarky retort, he’s quickly heading up the stairs of his old house, taking them two at a time as they creak and crack. Footsteps sound from above you, moving in one direction and then the other, before he’s coming back down slower than he had ascended. When he appears in the entryway of the living room, he’s holding the biggest, plushest navy blue down comforter you’ve ever seen in both of his arms. He’s peeking over and around it as he navigates behind the coffee table, careful not to trip or bump into something.

“What’s all this?” You ask, laughing at the sight before you as you sit criss-crossed on the chaise, the container of strawberries still sitting in your lap, uneaten.

“The comforter from my bed, obviously.” He answers, snatching the berries from you once more and putting them on the coffee table. You groan, but it’s short lived, as he drops the entire giant comforter overtop of you. He arranges it to wrap you inside of it, letting your head peek out. He tucks it under your thighs and tugs it closed across your chest.

“Thank you,” you mumble through a tight-lipped smile, finding him a little ridiculous, but also thoughtful and sweet. He plops down next to you, sitting similarly to you with his legs crossed, the box of strawberries between you. He opens them and offers you one by the stem, which you graciously accept.

You take a bite, quickly moving your hand under your chin to catch any of the chocolate cracking and falling. You moan a little at the taste, smiling at him when his eyes cut to yours.

He takes a bite of his own, his approach for avoiding a mess a little different than yours. His bite is so big that it takes him a while to chew through it, eventually speaking with some still in his mouth.

“I don’t know who the fuck decided these are supposed to be a romantic food.” He has a little bit of chocolate in his mustache and you can’t help but giggle, his tongue quickly darting out to lick it. “I’ve never had a more difficult time eating anything in my goddamn life.” He says, a hearty laugh rumbling through his chest.

You’re so far under the influence and feeling so content from finally getting your hands on the sweets you were craving, all you can do is giggle in response. It’s the kind of giggle that lingers, when the joke is probably forgotten. He’s watching you with one raised brow as you cover your mouth and try to stop it.

He eventually joins you, unable to resist the contagious, almost delusional snickering coming from you under the giant blanket across from him. It’s a sweet, silly moment, and it feels effortless. You spend the next few minutes chewing and laughing and stealing glances at him in secret. The edible has you at a point where you’re not sure if you’re speaking out loud or thinking the words in your head. So then, the question you’re considering asking him just slips out.

“Why are you so tan in February?” You laugh, realizing it was a little forward of you to just ask out of nowhere. Luckily, you’re met with a stoned giggle of his own before he swallows and answers.

“I… went to a music festival in South America last week.” He says, eyes flicking up to yours, almost like he’s trying to see if you believe him.

“See anyone good?” You pry, your cheeks a little flushed the more you stare at him and catalog his mannerisms.

“Nobody you’d know.” He says, and you take him at his word. He smiles reassuringly, even though you don’t believe him, and it makes you giggle some more.

Eventually, it settles down and it’s just occasional quiet laughs cutting through the quiet of the room. He reaches for another strawberry and you realize it’s a little too quiet. You turn your head towards the tv, the last video having ended, and the countdown to the next one descending from 15. You squint your eyes a little to see what’s about to play next.

Rig Rundown: Greta Van Fleet [2021] is the title. But what really throws you is the thumbnail. The image is an older guy with coiffed silver hair, smiling and pointing at… Jake? He’s got a smug smile on his face, an arm on this other guy’s shoulder, and his hair down, which you think you’ve seen only once. He’s in a navy blue blazer with a hand on his hip, a guitar hanging across the front of his body.

“...Is that you?”

10…9…8…

“Huh?” Jake says as he looks up at you from the box of strawberries, his mouth full, a stem pinched between his two fingers. He sees where you’re looking and follows your gaze towards the TV as it counts down.

7…6…5…

“Oh, fuck–”

You quickly grab the remote control from the end of the coffee table, trying to find the OK button so it will start playing sooner. Jake panics, tossing the carton of berries onto the table with reckless abandon. He lunges towards you, so you hide the remote inside the comforter along with as much of yourself as you can.

“No!” He shouts playfully, grabbing at the blanket and trying to unravel you. He kneels on the edge of the chaise, knocking you over and trying to get to your hands and arms under the layers and layers of soft, fluffy blankets.

“You have… to let… me watch it!” You argue with a laugh, avoiding his grasp. You finally decide to raise the remote all the way over your head, almost over the edge of the couch. He leans forward over top of you, his weight balanced on his palm next to your head.

“Hand it over.” He says, attempting to be stern, but there’s a smile pulling at his lips. A little jingle begins to play, and you can’t see the screen, but you’re positive the video is starting. You adjust the remote in your hand and crank the volume as he stares down at you. His eyes linger on your lips, then your eyes, then your lips again. His stare is only broken when he realizes it’s getting louder. A riff starts to fill the room, a song you can’t say you’ve ever heard before, and he huffs, reaching for the remote again.

You’re a little distracted watching him on the screen over his shoulder, his long hair and unbuttoned shirt and the way his hands look wrapped around the neck of the guitar. He snatches the remote from you with an extra stretch of his arm and you giggle softly. “Oh my god…”

“Hey, hey! I’m John from Premier Guitar, and I’m here with Jake Kiszka from–”

Jake pauses the video, falling back into his seat on the couch. His head lolls to the side and he looks at you with a playful, annoyed glare.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why the hell are you doing guitar interviews?”

“I told you I’m a musician.” He says, a little short, lifting the remote to exit the video.

“No, no, wait!” You plead, reaching for his forearm to lower it. “Just let me watch, like, a minute.” He doesn’t say anything for a moment. “If you don't, I'll just go home and watch it anyway.”

He groans, mumbling a barely there “fine,” begrudgingly before pressing play and letting the guy continue.

“Greta Van Fleet! Jake, congratulations! Since I last saw you, you won a grammy! Or two grammys?”

“Yeah, one…”

“You have a fucking GRAMMY?” You exclaim as the video continues to play. You turn and look at him, but his eyes are on the screen, squinting with what you can tell is embarrassment.

“Are you gonna talk through your allotted one minute of watching or what?” He says, giving you a little warning look. You grin, turning your attention back to the screen. As the guy goes on and on, you realize this isn’t the part you want to watch.

“Can we skip past this guy? He talks a lot. This is not how I want to use my minute.” You bargain, and he just offers you the remote silently with a smirk.

You fast forward a little until you see he’s about to play. It’s a few seconds of him playing something else you’ve never heard, and then he speaks.

“It’s hotter, it’s a bit hotter…”

You smirk with wide eyes, looking at him in your peripherals.

“Shut up.” He says, closing his eyes like he simply can’t watch any more. You laugh at his dramatics, and when he hears it he can’t help but crack a smile. His cheeks are rosy and you look back at the screen, eyes trying to decide on what part of him to land on.

“This guy…” You start, shaking your head a little.

“He’s a bit much.” Jake says, looking over at you with a half smile.

“He’s so sweaty!” You add, laughing through your words.

He lets you watch for more than a minute. He makes a few comments, scoffing at himself, even running his hand over his face a few times. You can tell it’s a little painful for him, but you’re in your glory. You reach for another strawberry as you look over at his embarrassed face.

“So this is why you’re never here…” you say, turning the volume down a little. “And the music festival…”

“Yep. That would be the reason.” He says softly, sniffing a little as he watches. You turn to look at him and his eyes flick up to yours, his gaze traveling straight to your lips. There's a flicker in his eyes, and you hardly comprehend that his hand is moving towards your face. You feel his thumb swipe softly against your bottom lip, a tiny smear of chocolate on the tip of his digit. Your tongue immediately licks over the place his thumb was, tasting the sugary sweetness of the chocolate that was once there. He places his thumb between his lips, licking the chocolate from his own finger, while his eyes stay locked on yours.

“Somehow, it’s even sweeter.” he breathes letting his hand drop from his lips. He settles back into the couch cushions resting his head on his hand as he looks at you. You can hardly pull your eyes away from his as your heart races in your chest, the video in the background long forgotten.

“Tell me why you’re alone on Valentine’s day…” he murmurs, his pink lips barely parting to let the words escape.

“You tell me why you are…” you counter, blinking slowly as you stare at him.

He bites his lips together as he tosses around the words in his head. He clicks his tongue against his teeth as he starts to speak. “Well, to be honest… I’ve had trouble finding someone that can live with the burden of my lifestyle. It’s a lot to ask of someone. ”

“Burden?” you ask.

“Yeah, that’s the word that always gets thrown around when things go south. And they’re not wrong I suppose. I know that I’m gone more than I’m home. Even you know that.” He says with a humorless chuckle. “Half the time I don’t know the next time that I’ll be home and get to sleep in my own bed. So naturally that sort of…uncertainty doesn’t lend well to relationships. Of any kind really…” he pauses, letting out a sigh. “It’s hard to find, let alone keep, any type of meaningful connection… Especially when I’m halfway around the world. But I swear it’s not for lack of trying on my end. It’s just one of those things that comes with the job whether you want it or not.”

You nod your head slowly, feeling your heart breaking for him. If you weren’t sure before, you are positive now that he is just a little more lonely than he is willing to let on.

“I wasn’t even supposed to be here now. We’re supposed to be traveling to New York right now. Though, everything happens for a reason I guess.” he says, offering you a little smirk as he brushes his hand over top of yours. “Now, your turn. Tell me why such an intriguing woman is all alone on the most romantic day of the year…”

You pull the fluffy blanket up a little further onto your lap, toying with the hem as you look up at him. “I haven’t really dated anyone since I moved here. I thought I would but, I just…haven’t. I thought that once I was settled into a good routine at work I could spend a little more time meeting people, but every time I go out I’m suddenly surrounded by twenty other girls who are by modern standards perfect, and I just don’t even stand a chance against them, you know?” you pause, letting your fingers roll over the stitching on the edge of the duvet. “I don’t look like them, and I never will. So I just work a lot, hang out with my friends when I can, and have zero expectations of ever being the person that is going to stand out in a crowd like that.”

You bite the inside of your cheek as you wait for his response, suddenly feeling stupid for telling this stranger your secrets.

“You couldn't be more wrong.” he breathes, letting his arm fall against the back of the couch. There’s an air of demand in his voice as he speaks. His hand swipes the hair away from your face, letting his fingers brush your jawline. “You’re prettier than all of them. And smarter, and funnier. They have nothing on you. I’d pick you…In a crowd.”

“You don’t have to just say that to try and make me feel better. It’s okay, really.” you say dismissively.

“I’m not just saying that, Y/N. I mean it. You’re so pretty, and you’re so quick witted, and you listen to me talk about stuff no one else cares about...Shit, I can’t think of one person I know that would have sat through even the first video, let alone let me talk through the entire thing. I’m having one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time, with you.” he urges, settling his hand loosely on the curve of your neck. His skin is warm against yours, and you can smell the remnants of the cologne he likely sprayed on his wrist this morning as it wafts towards your nose.

You laugh softly, suddenly feeling shy as he compliments you. You lean into him without even noticing, your eyes closing as you breathe him in. The cushion dips as he leans towards you, meeting you where you were and pressing his lips to yours almost tentatively. His fingers grip into your neck as his tongue swipes against your bottom lip. If the gummy didn’t already have you feeling floaty, you were sure you’d be feeling it now. He pulls away from you and a small whimper leaves your mouth at the loss of his warmth. His hand slides down your neck and over your shoulder, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards him. With his other hand, he picks up the remote and hits pause, not wanting the video to carry on in the background of what you think is about to be another kiss.

“C’mere…” he growls, holding a hand out to you. You tuck your feet underneath yourself in an attempt to push up onto your knees, feeling slightly off-kilter. You grip his hand a little tighter as you reach for his shoulder, moving slowly until you’re straddling his lap. He positions your legs on either side of him, making sure you’re comfortable, and taking the opportunity to run his hands over your thighs. You rest your hands on his chest for some stability, your head in the clouds. His hands immediately find their way back to your face, cupping your cheeks as he pulls you in and kisses you again,though this time there is a little more urgency behind it. You slide your hands up and over his shoulders, letting your fingers weave into his hair, grabbing a handful of the chestnut locks and gripping it in your fists. He tilts his head back slightly in response.

“Oh, fuck.” he groans. He looks at you with his head tilted back, his lids heavy, a barely-there crooked smile on his face. He’s such a sight with his dark eyes and pink lips, you think you might burst on the spot. You know you need to kiss him again, but you also want to hear him moan and curse again, and his exposed throat is calling to you.

Leaning down, you place a kiss to his jaw, the skin soft and warm. You feel like you’re in the passenger seat as someone else, a bolder and less inhibited version of yourself, calls the shots. One minute, you’re thinking about how the textured skin of his throat feels against your cheek, then then the next, you’re kissing and licking at it without a second thought. You feel his skin buzz under your lips as he whines, the taste of his skin and cologne mixed together so good you’re certain you’ll never be able to forget it.

You feel yourself melting into him, your tongue pulling the delicate skin over his clavicle into your mouth as you suck and bite softly without any consideration for the fact that he probably shouldn’t be covered in love bites. When you lift your head, he’s got his own resting on the back of the couch, his eyes closed, his brows knitted together as you shower him in searing kisses.

Sitting up, you lean over him again for another kiss, this time taking it upon yourself to deepen it, grazing your teeth over his bottom lip as you lace your hands in his hair again, taking a bit of control. You feel him shudder beneath you, his hips bucking up in response. His tongue slides into your mouth and you can taste the lingering flavor of the tequila he was no doubt drinking prior to your arrival mixed with a hint of chocolate. His hands travel down your body, sliding underneath the hem of your shirt. He stops as his hands wrap around your waist, his thumbs swiping over your skin. You lean into his grip, feeling him pull you down onto his groin as his teeth nip at your lips now.

You know that both of you are still feeling the effects of the gummy and there isn’t a shred of inhibition between the two of you. You release your grip on his hair and let your hands trail down the open buttons of his shirt, feeling the chest you’ve stared at all night beneath your fingertips. You slide them further down, letting your fingers toy with the remaining buttons, waiting to see if he will stop you, but when he doesn’t, you finish the job and push his shirt open completely. A silver necklace rests between his pecs, and you smile recognizing the coin as one of the artifacts you saw in one of the videos from earlier in the night.

His mouth is like velvet on yours and you can’t help but to want more of him. You roll your hips against him, feeling him growing beneath you and spurring you on even more. Another groan leaves his mouth, his lips vibrating on yours. His hands move up a little further, his thumbs just dusting the underside of your bralette. You can tell he’s doing his best to be respectful, but you simply cannot wait another second to feel his hands on your body.

You reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, tossing it to the side. He swallows thickly as his eyes roam over you, his lips parting as he looks you over. His mind is struggling to keep up with the pace things are moving. He hums in approval as he runs a calloused fingertip over your navel, which pulls a lazy smile from you. Jake chuckles in response, now moving his hands to rest at your shoulders before pulling you down closer to him so he can press a wet kiss to your collarbone. His lips trail down your skin until they reach the fullness of your chest, and with his eyes now locked on yours, he sucks a hot, audible kiss into the rounded skin.

Your eyes flutter closed as his tongue swipes against your skin, simultaneously feeling his fingers pull the bralette straps down over your shoulders. With the extra support gone the cups fall slightly, revealing a little more of your chest to him. You grab his hands and pull them to your chest, giving him the green light to take things a little further.

“God, you’re stunning.” he mumbles breathlessly, gripping into your tits as you roll your hips against him. You lean forward to press your lips to his again, licking into his mouth as his hands move to circle around your back, resting just at the base of your back. He presses you closer as you roll into him again, this time feeling his fully hard cock pressed against your core. He hooks a finger into one side of your bralette, freeing your nipple. He leans forward and takes into his mouth, sucking softly. You groan at the feeling, a breath of air leaving his mouth as you drag across the length of him. He pulls you closer, dragging his tongue over the sensitive bud as mewls fall from your lips. You usually aren’t as affected by something so routine in foreplay, but all of your senses are heightened and you think you could probably cum from the feeling of his mouth spoiling you with kisses and bites combined with how hard he is between your thighs.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, still glassy and blown out. “I promise this isn’t what I intended when I invited you over...” he breathes, his thumbs swiping against your back as he licks his lips, his blinks slow and lazy.

“I know…” you answer with a bashful smile and lidded eyes, staring into his brown irises. “But it feels too good to stop.”

“Yeah,” he says, more of a breath than a word. “I want you so fucking bad right now.” he adds, a smirk pulling across his lips as he makes the move to roll you to your back on the chaise of the couch. You're giggling as he’s now hovering over you, similarly to how he was earlier, only this time you know he’s going to kiss you and you don’t have to wish for it. He makes quick work of his shirt, pulling his arms from the sleeves and tossing it to the other side of the room. Your head is positively spinning, the room around you seems like a blur and the only thing in focus is him.

He runs a finger over your chest, hooking into the fabric of your bralette. “Take this off for me, sweetheart. Show me.” he mumbles, his lazy eyes slowly raking over every inch of you, needing more.

You practically burst into flames, rushing to pull the fabric over your head. Now completely exposed to him, his eyes flick down to your chest as he bites his lips together. He pulls back again, unbuttoning his pants and pulling the zipper down for some relief. He swallows harshly, letting his eyes meet yours again. You reach your hand up and hook it around his neck, pulling his face down to yours. You press your lips to his and he lowers himself down to his elbows, deepening the kiss as his body lays on top of yours.

You let your free hand circle around his back, your fingers following the contours of his waist, dipping down to his spine as you run the length of his back. He groans at the feeling of your nails against his skin, and you find yourself wondering if he’s usually this vocal or if the high he’s experiencing has lowered his guard.

He shoots up, turning his head around to look at the TV, muttering something under his breath as he grabs the remote from the other side of the couch. He exits the video and you giggle, realizing it was paused on a still of his brother, you assume, in the middle of talking with his hands, sitting behind a keyboard. He tosses the remote to the coffee table, leaning back down over you with a smirk. “Sorry. I just think three’s a crowd.” he smiles, pressing another kiss to your lips.

He pulls away from your lips leaving a trail of kisses down your throat, and over your sternum, stopping just shy of the top of your yoga pants. His eyes flick up to yours, and you offer him a shy nod, silently thanking yourself for that “everything” shower this morning.

He kisses your stomach one more time before curling his fingers beneath the hem, sliding them slowly over your hips and down your legs before letting them fall softly to the floor. You lay there in just your panties, and you think he may notice that you’re feeling exposed as he quickly stands to kick off his pants. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the heavy outline of his dick, visible and straining against the black fabric of his boxers.

His eyes flick to yours but you can’t seem to take your eyes off of the tan line just above the elastic of his boxers, wanting more than anything to peel the black fabric from his hips. He kneels onto the chaise, settling himself between your legs and caging you between his arms. A few strands of his hair hang around his face, and his dark brown eyes are growing darker by the second. You bring your hand up to his stomach, letting your fingers sneak beneath the elastic of his boxers, sliding across the front of his waist causing him to clench up his stomach with a smile.

“You ticklish?” you murmur, continuing to slide your fingers across his waistband.

He drops his head to look at your hand in his boxers before looking back up at you with a smirk. “Not ticklish, just…sensitive…” he growls. You can tell that the gummy has made him a little more responsive to touch than he normally is.

His hips jolt forward on their own accord and you feel the brush of his dick against your fingers. He sucks in a harsh breath at the contact, his eyes connecting with yours. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you push your hand further inside, wrapping softly around his hardened length. A hiss leaves his mouth and he starts to breathe a little heavier as you squeeze around him. You slide your hand up and around the tip, rounding off at the end before sliding back down, watching his eyes flutter closed for the slightest second.

“Fuck, wait…” he breathes, pulling back and taking a second to compose himself. He sits up a little more, hooking his fingers into your thong and pulling it swiftly down your legs. His eyes flick up towards the couch then back down the length of the chaise, “Move down a little for me, baby. Rest your feet on the floor. ”

You quickly push yourself further down on the couch, letting your knees hang over the edge of the chaise until your feet meet the rug on the floor. He drops to his knees at the end of the chaise, running his warm hands up the length of your thighs. He kisses the inside of your thigh, humming in appreciation for the position he’d found himself in.

He rests both of his hands on your hips, and as you look down at him, you see a faint silver scar up the length of his left arm. You wrap your hand around his forearm, feeling his veins pulsing against your palm.

His eyes meet yours as he slowly drags his tongue through your folds, hot and slow as you throw your head back into the couch cushion. His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers pressing firmly into your skin pulling you closer as his lips suction over your clit. His tongue swipes against you again, flatter and with more pressure as you writhe beneath him.

“Fuck…” he curses, his warm breath sending a shiver up your spine. “Had I known what I was missing…” he pauses to lick at you again. “I would have pulled you across the street months ago. You taste like heaven.”

You feel as if you’re floating on a cloud as you melt into his comforter, the warmth from the fireplace radiating across the room. A soft gasp falls from your lips as he laps at you, no urgency or strategy behind his method. He seems to just be enjoying himself, his eyes lifting to look at you, a little lazy, a little glassy. You shift underneath him slightly, but he’s not deterred. His mouth doesn’t leave you for even a moment, like you’re his only source of vitality in this very moment.

You whine when you feel his tongue press to your entrance, and you feel the smile that pulls across his lips. Your hips buck up towards him, his nose brushing over your clit, sending you quickly towards a place you’re not quite ready to be yet. His tongue finds you again, pressing forward this time and entering just for a second before pulling back out. His lips suction over you again, and he shakes his head side to side, taking you to that place whether you’re ready or not.

“Jake…” you whine, sliding your hands into his hair.

“Mmm?” he hums into you, his eyes slowly opening to find yours, heavy with lust.

“More…” you beg, shuddering the slightest bit as you see how dark his eyes have become.

He gives you one more slow, long lap of his tongue, like he’s savoring it and committing the taste of you to memory. He stands from where he was kneeling and taps your thigh gently, wordlessly telling you to shift back up on the chaise. You scoot backwards and he follows, nestling himself between your legs, propped up on his palm. With the hand he isn’t using for balance, he frees himself from his briefs. He strokes himself once, but then lets himself go and you feel him against you, his cock heavy and hard, landing on the inside of your thigh with the softest sound. He pulls back slightly and when he pushes his hips forward again, he’s sliding through your folds, slick and lewd. It makes your cheeks hot.

“You’re so fucking wet…” he grunts, his voice strained like he’s in pain. “Just wanna feel you for a second…”

He lowers himself to bury his face in your hair, his breath hot as he pants, gently rutting his hips against you, his thrusts a little uncoordinated and desperate.

“Everything’s just so fucking sensitive.” he says, his now boyish voice cracking as it’s muffled by the pillow behind your head. He wraps his arms tightly around you and under you, like he’s worried you’re about to float away. “Feels so good.”

With a deep breath he releases you, sliding his hand down to fist his base. As he presses the tip to your entrance his eyes lock on yours, wordlessly asking if you’re ready, and when you nod he starts to press forward. His eyes flick down to your center, watching as he slides into you. The stretch is noticeable, but you welcome it. You want it. His eyes flutter closed for just a second and you feel him stop his movement, not pressing into you fully.

“Fuck, give me a second.” he pants, his chest heaving.

You feel him try to slide in a little more, but again he’s holding back.

“I think– I think you’re gonna have to take the reins here.” he admits.

“What do you mean…”

“If I move a single inch more I won’t–” he pauses, shaking his head as he blows out a breath. “I just need you to be on top.”

His eyes are pleading, searching yours, and you can’t possibly fathom the idea of ever denying him.

“I’ll make it worth your while.” he offers, and you can’t help but give him a little smirk, nodding. He withdraws and gives you a little space to get up, ditching his underwear before taking your place. You gingerly climb over him, taking a moment to brush one of the strands of hair that frames his face out of the way. He gives you a soft, lazy smile, his eyes barely open as he welcomes your gentle touch.

His hand reaches between the two of you as he lines himself up, and you waste no time lowering yourself onto him, savoring how full he makes you feel. Intending to fly right out of the gates you lift your hips again, but he slowly settles you down, a soft hum rumbling through him.

“That’s it. Yeah… Lean back for me?” he coaches, and you do as he asks without a second thought. His warm hand brushes down your abdomen until his thumb makes contact with your clit to rub gentle circles while his lidded eyes are open just a sliver to stare intently at where your bodies are meeting. His pink lips are parted slightly, his breathing shallow. You can’t help the wanton moan that escapes your throat at the sight paired with his careful touch.

“Rest your hands on my knees. I won’t let you fall.” he instructs, letting his free hand slide up your thigh. You do as he says, leaning back onto his knees, allowing you to take him a little deeper. “Just like that, baby. Fuck…”

You roll your hips in figure eights, feeling him brush against that sensitive place inside you, eliciting a whine from your chest.

“Yeah? Right there?” he asks, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “You stay just like that. Let me take over.”

He brings his foot up to rest on the cushion, giving himself a little more leverage. His hand firmly grips into your hip as he forcefully flicks his hips and fucks up into you. You gasp as he hits that spot, like he knew where it was the whole time. His thumb never relenting in its work on your clit.

“Yeah, damn. That’s it isn’t it, sweetheart? You feel so good like this... You just keep squeezin’ me, just like that.”

The force of his thrusts cause his silver chain to work its way up his body and into the crook of his neck. Your attention is quickly drawn to the metal coins rattling together with each thrust.

“M’gonna cum…” you warn him so he can decide whether or not to back off, but he just groans and keeps his motions steady. You can’t breathe when it hits you, nor can you help the way you fall forward, gasping for breath. Steadying yourself with weak arms, you grasp at the plush comforter underneath him.

“Fuck me that’s tight,” he groans. “Fuck.” He grabs your wrists on either side of his head for leverage, thrusting up into you so hard you see stars. It’s like your vision goes white as your chest heaves and you meet your end, crying out a desperate wail of his name.

“Slow down for me now, baby.” he coos as you tremble and try to catch your breath. You nod, taking all of him slowly with each roll of your hips. Looking down at him, you can tell he’s struggling to keep it together. Something about the way he’s dewy with sweat, his chest rising and falling, his hair sticking to his face… It makes your head spin. You watch his stoned eyes rolling back each time you take him so deeply the head of his cock brushes against the deepest part of you and it’s almost too much to bear.

He grips your hips suddenly, inhaling sharply. You freeze, knowing what he’s getting at, and you feel him twitch inside you. His brow is knitted up in concentration and a whine leaves his perfect, heart-shaped lips.

“Goddamn… you feel too good. I can’t– I can’t hold it, fuck…” he babbles, his voice pitched higher than you’ve heard it all night. Before you can say a word, he continues on.

“Can I do it inside? Please, baby, can I? Pl– oh, god, please? Wanna cum inside you so bad, so fucking bad… Can I? Baby–”

“Do it.” you urge, desperate to give him anything he wants in this very moment.

“Yeah?” he gasps.

“Yeah, do it. Please. I need it…” you whine, squeezing him with everything you have one last time.

“Oh fuck…” he groans, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulls you down and holds you in place as he pumps into you. “God damn, fuck me…” he cries out, grunting with each pulse inside you. His brows are furrowed and his eyes screwed shut before finally letting out a deep breath and slowing his hips.

His chest is heaving and a sheen of sweat covers his tanned skin. His hand moves from your hips, swiping the sweaty hair from his forehead. You lift to your knees, knowing exactly why his eyes are still trained on the place the two of you meet. He wants to see his work.

As you lift up, you feel his release start to stream out of you and back down onto his cock. A huff of pride leaves his chest, his tongue swiping out over his bottom lip before biting it between his teeth.

“Should we clean up?” he asks, watching the hot white streams drip down to his base.

“I’m working on it...” you say softly, lifting off of him completely and dropping to your knees. You plant your hands on either side of his hips, arching your back and pressing your ass into the air as you lower your mouth over his cum covered cock.

“Fuck…” he groans, watching your lips slide down his length.

Closing your lips over his base, you take him as far into your throat as you can, sucking his release from his skin as you work your way up, dragging your tongue over his every inch. You can feel him growing hard again as you reach the tip, lapping and circling your tongue around the sensitive skin. You drop down to his base again, but this time you feel his hand grip into your hair, holding you there as his hips jerk forward, propelling him further down your throat.

“Look at me.” he demands, and you flick your watery eyes up to meet his.

You gag around him and he releases your hair, his eyes dark and filled with desire. “Mmm…Yeah, fuck. We’re gonna revisit this...” he says, eyes fixed on you as you pull off of him with a pop. “Just needed to see how pretty you look with my cock down your throat.”

You can’t stop the tiny gasp that escapes you as you shoot him a playfully shocked grin. You blink once, raising your brows.

“We have a lot to revisit. Where did that come from?” You ask through a laugh, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. He chuckles, handing you your shirt.

“Sorry, sorry. The edible’s wearing off.” He says with a smirk, attempting to get himself off the couch. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

Jake shows you to the bathroom, then disappears into his bedroom while you freshen up. When you emerge, re-dressed and significantly less sticky, he hears your footsteps and comes out to meet you in the hallway. The two of you smile at each other, feeling the THC and endorphins and feelings starting to settle like you’re standing in a snowglobe.

“I'm glad you came over. Sorry I Jake’d you for a few hours.” He says softly, and there’s some jingling coming from his bedroom, which is probably Davy annoyed that you’re still lingering in his house. Jake hears it, reaching behind him to close his bedroom door without looking away from you.

“Jake’d me? Please don’t tell me that’s what you call–”

“NO, no, no. Oh, no. Getting ‘Jake’d’ is what my family calls it when I corner one of them into talking to me for an extended period of time about something they don’t really care about in excruciating detail.” He explains like he’s reading the definition from a textbook, a charming smile on his face. He seems a little embarrassed but at the same time, he sees the humor in it.

“Well I had a really great time.” you answer genuinely, pushing your hair behind your ear. “You can Jake me whenever you want.” You joke, a laugh bubbling out of you. You wiggle your eyebrows at him playfully and it coaxes a short, loud laugh out of him as well.

“I just might take you up on that.” He says, and there’s a rosy tint to his cheeks even in the dim lighting of the hallway.

“You know where to find me...”

As if he can tell you’re about to try and take your leave, he starts to walk past you and down the stairs.

“...Have you ever watched those videos where they clean out old barns?”

–

The two of you ended up curled together on the chaise, tucked under his big comfy blanket. The exhaustion hits you all at once, and about 10 minutes in, you slip into a deep sleep, your head tucked into his shoulder, his arm around you, his hand gently scratching your scalp.

Hours later, you wake up unsure where you are for a moment. As you shift a little, you feel there’s a heavy weight against you, which you soon realize is Jake’s leg. You’re no longer tucked underneath the giant duvet, a little sweaty, as Jake is asleep on his back. His hand is tucked into his sweatpants resting on his upper thigh, and you have to peel your eyes away once you spot the first sign of him half hard and half asleep. You can see his bold tan line and the slightest bit of hair through the gap he’s created. Sitting up, you try to search for a clock somewhere in the room or even your phone. Feeling around the chaise under you, you don’t find it. You look over on the other side of Jake hoping it’s there, but the only thing you find there is little Davy, curled into a ball and pressed against Jake’s back.

Jake seems to feel you moving around and it wakes him, eliciting a raspy hum from his chest. He pulls you back in towards him, your back to his chest, and you feel him shaking his head against your shoulder.

“Morning,” you say through a breathy laugh, but at the sound of your voice, you hear the jingle of Davy’s collar and the tippy-taps of his feet as he runs as far away from you as humanly possible.

“Too early.” He grumbles, reaching blindly over his head to feel around for the curtains. When he doesn’t find them, he groans and gets up, tugging them closed tight. “Fuck. Slept with my contacts in.” He says, standing over you and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He stretches his arms over his head, his tanline peeking out again, and you squeeze your eyes closed trying to keep your head on straight. He sighs deeply before sliding back onto the couch with you, pulling you tight to him. The two of you fall back asleep soon after, the only sound you hear is the clinking of Davy’s collar tag against his bowl and some quiet crunching.

–

When you wake again it’s from the feeling of Jake’s fingers moving against your hip. You stretch your legs out along the chaise, feeling the brush of his sweatpants against your legs. You roll your body towards him letting out a yawn. His eyes open, a little red from the dryness of sleeping with his contacts in, but as they fully open you’re once again pulled in by the dark brown irises.

“Still too early?” you whisper, your morning voice thick with sleep.

“Mmm, a bit, but I should probably get up. I’m sure my phone is just completely blown up by this point.” he groans, stretching his own legs out. “You sleep okay? We should’ve just moved to the bed earlier.”

“Actually this couch is pretty comfy, no complaints from me.” you smile, watching a grin spread across his own face.

“Speaking of complaints, your snoring…” he trails off.

“I don’t snore!” you admonish, playfully pushing off of his warm chest.

“No, you don’t. I’m just kidding. You are warm though, but that’s not a complaint.” he growls, tossing the comforter off of both of you. He pushes himself up off of the couch, his sweatpants dangerously low on his hips. “Coffee? You drink coffee?” he asks, searching for his phone on the coffee table. “Or I can order something to the house, though there’s really only one good place that deliv–”

You send him a knowing look and he stops himself.

“But you know that already because you live across the street.” he sighs. “So, coffee?”

“Coffee’s good.” you answer, looking for your own phone.

“How do you like it? Sugar? Milk? I don’t know what I have but–”

“Just sugar is fine…” you smirk.

He leans over the coffee table to grab his phone, stealing a kiss on his descent.

“Hey!” you laugh.

“You said just sugar…” he grins, swiping his phone and disappearing into his kitchen.

You stifle back the smile on your lips, and a morning you thought might be slightly awkward, feels like you’ve done it a million times. You pull on your cardigan, and run your fingers through your hair, straightening up the couch cushions, and repositioning the pillows. You’re finishing folding up his comforter as he walks into the room.

“Ahh, you didn’t have to do that.” he says, placing your mug on the coffee table.

“No trouble, just cleaning up our mess.” you smile, tossing the folded comforter down onto the couch.

“You seem to be rather good at that...” he smirks into his coffee mug.

Your cheeks grow hot as you recall what he is referring to. You grab your mug from the table and take a few sips, finding that somehow it’s made exactly how you like it.

You spot your keys under the coffee table, bending to grab them. “There they are. Always getting away from me.”

He chuckles as he takes his normal seat on the couch, crossing his leg over his knee. You stare at him, just enjoying his coffee on his couch and you want to ask him if you can see him again, but you don’t. You think back to what he told you last night, and decide against it.

You place your empty mug on the table, and bite your lips together before looking at him. “Thank you– for the coffee, and everything. It was nice.”

“Yeah, it was nice, wasn’t it? Same time next year?” he jokes, offering you a wink.

“Oh yeah, I thought that was a given…” you say through a laugh, “I mean, if you’re home of course.”

You grab your phone and keys from the coffee table and stand, ready to make your way towards the front door. He joins you in standing, the mug still clasped in his hand.

“Yeah, you just never know, ya know? I mean, maybe we don’t even have to wait that long…” he laughs, taking another sip of his coffee with a shrug.

“Yeah, I mean, you have my number…” You smile, twisting the front door knob.

“That I do. I definitely do.” he pauses, as you pull the door open. “Hey wait, let me walk you home.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, it’s just right there…” you say nervously.

“No, really. I want to. Just give me a sec.” he says, setting his mug on the entry table and rushing to grab a hoodie from his coat rack. He slides on a pair of dirty white Vans that have definitely seen better days, and opens the door further. “Alright, you ready?”

The two of you make your way through his front yard, giggling back and forth all the way to your front door as he quizzes you about the videos you watched last night. As you step up to your front porch mat you pull your keys from your cardigan pocket and start to unlock the door.

“Thanks for walking me home. You’re such a gentleman…” you say, feigning romance. As you peek over his shoulder you see Davy sitting in the window, keeping a close eye on Jake.

“Well of course, I couldn’t miss out on my kiss…” he smiles, a little dimple forming in his cheek.

“What kiss…” you press, all the while secretly hoping for just one more.

He grabs your waist and pulls you close to him, pressing his cold lips to yours. You can taste the remnants of coffee on his tongue, and as he pulls away his lips linger just a second longer.

A hum leaves his lips as he steps back. “That kiss.” He says, stepping backwards off of your porch, taking a few steps before turning to head back to his house. As you step inside your front door you look over your shoulder at the same time as he does, throwing his hand up from inside his hoodie pocket to offer you a two finger wave.

Your heart is beating out of your chest as you close the door behind you, and you feel like positively melting into the ground over the night you just shared with Jake. As you peek out the window you see Davy gone from his patrol post, and you smile knowing he’s definitely happy to have Jake all to himself again.

—

As you scrub away the remnants of the night before, you can’t help but to remember the way his hands felt as they moved across your body. So warm and so intentional, even in his intoxicated state. You wonder if he enjoyed himself as much as you did, and if he’s thinking about it just as much as you are. You think back to every other Valentine’s day you’ve ever had, and not a single one holding a candle to the night you just spent across the street with your neighbor.

You hear your phone buzz on the bathroom counter as you turn the shower off, wrapping yourself in a towel as you pick it up from the countertop. Your heart leaps in your chest as you see his name flash across your screen.

Jake - Neighbor

12:04pm: Probably should have watched the first one before the sequel. 😉

12:04pm: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zWDf_CEkpoU&t=1382s

You quickly hit the link, watching as it directs you to youtube, pulling up yet another Rig Rundown video. This one is much older than the one you saw last night, and as you lean against the bathroom counter the intro music starts to play. You’re met with a much younger looking version of Jake, in a sweater and a bucket hat, looking bright and eager to talk about his craft.

You quickly head towards your kitchen, pulling your own stash of gummies from your pantry. You pluck one of the small black bags from the basket and snap a photo as you pull up your texts and attach it to a message with a giggle.

You

12:10pm: Should I take one of these before I watch it?

12:10pm: By the way, love the bucket hat… 😉

You make your way back to your bedroom, dressing yourself in lounge clothes, knowing you’ll probably spend the rest of the day relaxing and catching up on your shows. Satisfied with your outfit you grab your phone to check for his response, only to be met with an empty screen. You sigh and make your way to the living room, flopping down onto your couch with your leftover take out from the night before, pressing play on the TV.

You try not to think about the man across the street and what he’s probably doing. You know he must be into something since he has yet to respond to your message. That or he has no intention of ever speaking to you again.

Feeling frustrated that it’s probably the latter, you toss your phone to the other side of the couch, catching a glance out your window. Your eyes snap to his driveway, seeing another car taking up the space next to his. Who the hell is at his house?

You stand up and make your way over to the window, taking a closer look at the white Jeep parked next to his car. You’ve never noticed it before…Or have you? You start to wrack your brain for the times you’ve even seen another car at his house, but you come up short. Never really caring before today.

You sit back down on the couch and start the next episode of your show, feeling the soreness from the prior night's activities starting to settle into your muscles. You grab a throw blanket and your favorite pillow and snuggle down into the couch cushions, ready to nap away your troubles, and hoping to wake up to a new message in your inbox.

A knock on the door startles you awake. You grab your phone and see that you’ve slept quite a few hours, and it’s now nearly 6:00pm.

You stand up and run your hands through your hair to combat the bedhead, clearing your throat as you reach for the door knob. Standing on the other side of your door is Jake, looking like he is fresh from the shower, as his damp hair lays long over his shoulders. You can smell his body wash wafting off of him and you practically melt into the door frame.

“Did I wake you up? Did you actually take that gummy?” he laughs, pulling his hands from his pockets.

“Oh, no. I didn’t. I just… I guess I was a little more tired than I thought.” you blush, trying to play it cool, and not like you’ve been thinking about him since the moment he left this morning.

“Sorry I forgot to respond. My brother came over and I couldn’t get him to leave.” he laughs.

His brother.

“Oh, it’s no problem. I was in and out of sleep all day anyways.” you lie.

“So…” he pauses, taking a breath as he reaches into his pocket. “I may have acquired something a bit better than what we had last night.” he says holding a small black bag in his palm.

“I don’t know, I kind of liked what we had last night.” you quip, a little smirk on your lips.

“Mhmm, I know you did.” he smiles, sliding his hands back into his trouser pockets.

“I don’t know if you had plans tonight or anything…” he trails off, kicking his foot against your doormat. “But I was thinking about watching this video I saw about how to make a barbecue smoker out of a filing cabinet. Really riveting stuff…”

His big brown eyes flash up to yours in question and you feel that flame in your chest reignite. You’re already eager at the thought of spending another night like last night. You knew right then that it wouldn’t matter if it was a filing cabinet smoker or a centuries old shipwreck, there was suddenly nothing more important than watching whatever it may be, with him. So with a shy smile, and the tap of your fingers against your chin you meet his gaze.

“You know, I really have been meaning to look into that…”

Taglist: @ageofcj @britney-gvf @bladenotblaze @gretavanfan @peaceloveunitygvf @highway-tuna @anythingforjtk @klarxtr @itsafullmoon @myleftsock @gretavanmoon @aflame4goinghome @ascendingtothestarssasone @jjwasneverhere @sparrowofrhiannon @gvfstuddedmajesty @kiarraaldarondo @oliver-mf-reed @notjordie-gvf @starshine-wagner @starcatcherchords @sadiechar @spark-my-nature @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @mackalah @stardustofman @eyelinerjake @farfromthehomelands @abby-gvf @writingcold @fleet-of-fiction @stardustjake @sinarainbows @gvfsstardust @ageoflou @jarmonicasweat @jakekiszkasmommy @bubblyjake @jakeygvf21 @starrymoonslut @takenbythemadness @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @m0uthfl13s @floatinglikeaswan @bri-archer @Mama.likes72

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r0tting-rat · 19 days ago

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I WAS BORED DURING PSYCHOLOGY CLASS SO ENJOY THIS

Pairing: Sun & Moon x Gender Neutral Reader

Warning: Slightly suggestive

Words: idk

Summary: Sun finds out new stuff about you

It was 10 pm on a random Monday, it was flu season, and you were going to leave the daycare in almost an hour and a half. The day had been slow, the kids had been few, which of course meant that by 9:30 you had already finished cleaning the entire area, much to your dismay. Bored to the core, you were scribbling on a piece of paper with a pen left by the other security guard, thinking on what to do to not melt into a puddle of misery, and immediately your eyes traveled up to Sun. The bot was rearranging blocks a few feet away from your desk, probably just as bored as you, and the corners of your mouth began to rise.

-Sun?- you called him, watching with interest as his head snapped in your direction and a wide smile opened on his flat faceplate.

-Yeeeess, little constellation?- he asked, standing up with all the grace a machine could have. -Do you wanna show me your drawing?-

-Oh, no, fuck no!- you laughed, balling up the piece of paper in your hand and throwing it inside the bin under the desk, -I'd rather die. Come here.-

Sun didn't worry about your refusal, it was a common occurrence between the two of you to bicker and fight about your views on art. Sun claimed that everything made with effort had to be considered "art", while you said that your mad scribbles were not even close to a proper drawing, therefore, he had no reason to insist on seeing them.

-Language, dear,- Sun chimed, coming to stand right in front of you, -Must I remind you what happens to potty-mouths in my daycare?-

Rolling your eyes, you took your phone out of your pocket, inserting the password and entering your phone gallery.

-Yes, yes, Moon has already showed me countless of times,- you told him, -Now, look at this.-

You turned your phone around to show Sun a meme you had saved, waiting for him as he read, with your arm outstretched towards him as you tapped the surface of the desk with your other hand.

-Are you done?- you asked after a while, and at your question Sun's single brow furrowed.

-Is that your cat?- the jester asked back, still looking confused.

-No, that's just a meme, a template of a cat that became famous on the internet,- you explained, letting Sun grab your phone and hold it out in front of him, still studying the picture.

-Why does it want to put me in its basement?- Sun's voice sounded concerned, almost scared, -What did I do to be put in a basement?!-

-It's just a funny meme, Sun!- you were quick to reassure him, -It's supposed to make you laugh!-

-I don't like cats,- said Sun, looking back at you, -They rumble and make weird vibrating sounds when I pet them. I don't like basements either, they're too small for me to stand in and too dark for my taste.-

-Alright, alright, understood,- you sighed, -I just wanted to make you smile a little, but nevermind.-

You had hoped to show your animatronic coworker something new, something funny that would have surprised him and made him laugh, but worrying him wasn't part of the deal. Just as you reached to get your phone back, Sun began to scroll.

-Do you have more of these memes?- he asked, and your eyes widened.

-W-Wait, Sun, wait!-

It was too late, Sun had begun to scroll through your photos, looking through each of your pics with interest. You stood up and attempted to snatch the device away, but Sun spun his torso around to get out of your reach.

-Sun, give it back!- you screamed, grabbing his shoulders and trying to climb on his back.

-Is that me?!- Sun was saying, incredulous, -Did you take photos of me and Moonie while working?!-

Your face was burning, you were beyond embarrassed, but the attendant still refused to give your phone back to you.

-It's not what it looks like!- you whined, but at each photo Sun's eyes got bigger. A zoom-in of his face as he laughed, a close up of one of his drawing, a selfie you had taken during naptime with an unsuspecting Moon, a full body picture of Sun as he was carrying a child with a scraped knee around the daycare; warm and gentle as he always tried to be around those small and soft humans. Looking back at you, Sun found you with an adorable blush dusting your cheeks and neck.

He wondered how far down that beautiful red tint went. Cute.

-Dear?- Sun called you, crossing his arms over his chest while still keeping your phone in his hand, -Why do you have so many photos of me and Moonie in your phone?-

You didn't know what to say. How could you excuse your behavior? Technically, you weren't even allowed to use your phone during working hours. You chose to tell the truth.

-A while back, a friend of mine didn't believe me when I said that you and Moon are... terribly cute,- you spoke the last two words in a whisper, -A-And hot, v-very hot... So I started showing her pictures, you know? B-But, the more photos I took, the more... intimate it felt.-

Realizing that what you said could have been taken the wrong way, you were quick to correct yourself.

-N-Not intimate as in...! I m-mean, intimate as in private! I didn't want to share things with her anymore, but... I kept taking pictures.- Swallowing, you stared at the ground. -Sorry, I... Fuck, I don't know what came over me.-

Sun didn't say anything. For a moment, the entire daycare turned completely silent, and you waited for the robot to say something, anything at all. You were ashamed beyond comprehension.

Suddenly, you heard a loud whirring cutting the silence, along with the hiss of steam being blown out of vents. Looking up, you found Sun with his eyes closed, his face contorted into an almost pained grimaced, retracted rays, and steaming joints. His internal fans were working overtime to keep him cool, but the animatronic was visibly overheating.

-...Sun?- you attempted to say, hoping the jester wasn't too mad at you, -Are you okay?-

-No,- he hissed in response, low and angry, -I'm not okay, starbeam, at all.-

You didn't know what to do. Feeling guilty, you started to consider leaving the daycare early, to give him more space, but by the looks of it, Sun wasn't planning to let go of your phone anytime soon.

-Don't you dare to leave,- Sun suddenly grabbed you by a wrist, and you were surprised by how easily he had read your intentions. With a gentle tug, he pushed you between his arms, against his chest. -Not after all you have done to me.-

Standing so close, you could feel the heat radiating from his chassis, which warmed you up to your very core. His white eyes stared down at you—through you—making you feel uncovered, naked, observed. A smile opened on his face, and Sun giggled, happy to see you so confused and surprised.

-Do you think you could stay a bit after hours today?- he asked you, -After all, potty-mouths need to be taught a lesson, bad adults need to be punished!-

The last sentence was said in a deeper and equally familiar voice; not quite Sun anymore, but similar to the rough vocals of another animatronic. It was the end of the hour, the lights in the daycare were beginning to dim, and the blue and black hues of the daycare attendant were starting to stand out. Moon was coming out, and it looked like he was on the same note as Sun, regarding your punishment.

He giggled while you stared up at him, cast in the red light of his eyes. Beautiful, pretty, pretty, pretty.

-...Moon?- you asked, -What... What are you planning?-

-Oh, don't you worry, my star!- Moon said, holding both of your hands and beginning to spin around, dragging you in a weird dance in the middle of the darkened daycare, -You like us, right?-

Unable to lie while looking him straight in the eyes, you slowly nodded, swallowing down the knot in your throat.

-Like-like us, right?- he asked once more, and again you nodded. -Perrrrfect then.-

His purr reverbrated through your chest, down to your stomach, making your knees weak and your legs unsteady.

-I have the perfect punishment for you then, my dearest,- he said, lowering his faceplate so he could be at the same level of your ears. The moment the hot air of his hands hit your flushed skin, you flinched. -How about you tell me everything you have told your friend about us, mh? All your dreams, all the times you wanted to hold us, to touch us, to kiss us.-

You would have sworn Moon was doing that on purpose, embarrassing you minute after minute, making you feel hotter second after second. Closing your eyes, you cursed out loud, unable to keep your calm anymore.

-Such a naughty star,- Moon giggled, pulling away, finally letting you breathe, -A naughty star with a naughty tongue.-

#fnaf #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf security breach #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #dca fandom #fnaf dca #fnaf drabble #dca sun #dca moon #dca x reader #dca x y/n #sun x reader #sun x y/n #moon x reader #moon x y/n #drabble #rat's drabbles #suggestive

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prettylittlels · 1 year ago

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proud

(sebastian vettel x ferrari!reader)

summary: ferrari wins in monza thanks to sebastian vettel's wife

a/n: seb my baby

yourusername has posted a story!

caption: let's go Monza! 🇮🇹

seen by 1,972,200 users

charles_leclerc has posted a story!

seen by 3,982,041 users

liked by 4,928,104 others

f1news today we race in Monza and there is hope for Ferrari! since the new team manager of Scuderia Ferrari, y/n y/ln - vettel, took the reins, things are looking better for our favorite red team. the streets are buzzing with anticipation: the rumors of y/n taking the team to the top of the constructor's championship aren't little, and the whispers of y/ln's husband, the retired driver sebastian vettel, being present at today's race are getting louder.

7,298 comments

user1 vamos ferrari ❤️🇮🇹🚘

user2 y/n literally saved ferrari

user3 seby/n content pleaseee

-> user4 omg yess we havent seen them in so longg

liked by yourusername and 2,928,106

scuderiaferrari Charles Leclerc won the Italian Grand Prix! and Carlos Sainz close, finishing second!

134,970 comments

user5 YEEEEESSSSSSS

user6 Y/N TRULY IS OUR SAVIOUR

charles_leclerc thank you y/n ❤️ ferrari isn't the same without you

-> yourusername liked this comment

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1 and 307,145 others

sebastianvettel Ich bin so stolz auf dich. Ich kann nicht glauben, dass alle deine Träume wahr geworden sind, meine Liebe. Für immer dankbar, dass ich dich meine Frau nennen darf. Ich liebe dich bis zum Mond und bis zum Saturn ❤️

(i am so proud of you. i cant believe all of your dreams came true, my love. forever thankful that i can call you my wife. i love you to the moon and to saturn.)

tagged yourusername

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liked by landonorris, sebastianvettel and 2,928,107 others

yourusername forever yours 🖤

tagged sebastianvettel

comments have been disabled

liked by 3,558,430 others

f1news after today's victory, iconic husband and wife duo y/n y/ln - vettel and sebastian vettel have been seen entering two-michelin star restaurant in Rome. congrats to the beautiful couple!

72,910 comments

user7 MY PARENTS

landonorris mama y papa

-> user8 LANDO????

user9 THE f1 couple

user0 🔥

#book recommendations #bookworm #x reader #f1 x reader #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel

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seungfl0wer · 5 months ago

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*I Like When You Watch*

Pairing: Changbin x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Being watched, P in V, Unprotected sex, mentions of female oral, mentions of Multiple rounds

˚ ༘♡Master List (Here) for the 1K Event

Kinks: Voyeurism+exhibitionism (peeping Tom+being watched)

-🩵

It was late the cool air from your window hitting your skin so softly. Little goose bumps spread across your body at the feeling as the moon light danced through your silk curtains. You were tossing and turning not able to sleep. After about an hour of restlessness you finally decided to do something that always helped. Your roommate wasn’t home yet either so you could even be a bit loud.

You grabbed your vibrator from your drawer laid it beside you as you stripped yourself of the few clothes you had on. The cool air on your cunt made you shiver the sensation feeling strange but nice. You closed your eyes placing the little purple buzzing bullet to your clit moaning at the contact. Mind making scenarios in your head as you let your other hand wonder to your nipples playing with them as well.

Changbin had come home, as he walked to his room though he could hear you. Oh boy could he hear you. The thought of you in your room touching yourself made his head spin. Sitting his stuff in his room he made his way to your door ‘she has it cracked?’ He said to himself as he peaked into your room. The sight of your body being illuminated by the moon light as you touched yourself made him go crazy. He stood in the door way as he watched you palming himself through his shorts.

Your mind was going crazy but nothing was enough right now, you whined to yourself just wanting to be filled by something. Bins mouth was open looking like a dog with his tongue hanging out and the drool dripping down his chin. He was getting off at the thought he could be caught at any point. ‘What if you catch him? Would you be mad or maybe ask him to join?’ He thought to himself the last question had him shoving his hands in his pants to fuck his fist hard.

“Y/n” he groaned out without thinking his mind just blurred. Your eyes darted to the door seeing him standing there touching himself to the sight of you. You could feel your walls grip around the thought of him helping you. It was hot that he was watching you felt so dirty but so fucking hot. You acted like you didn’t see him as you touched yourself turning your toy to a higher speed “Binnie” you said softly arching your back at the feeling of the new speed.

He didn’t even stop to see if you saw him the sound of you saying his name made him feral. He fucked into his fist fast his head falling back at the feeling. The hot thoughts danced through his head, thinking about you. How you feel, how you taste how you’d scream his name. He wasn’t prepared for what was about to come from your mouth though.

“Binnie please, god I see you please just come fuck me” you whimpered. This time he did freeze making direct eye contact with you his whole body went hot. He felt like a volcano that was ready to erupt, he shook his head snapping out of his haze. He made his way to you, taking in all your sight up close for the first time. He almost pounced on you like a wild animal to its prey. He leaned down to kiss you sloppily, His kiss felt hot tasted like mint and cola?

He grinned his hips against you letting out low Groans as he felt your trail of your juices on his sweat pants. “You know I see you watching me- all the time” you moan out. This wasn’t the first time Bin stood in the same spot touching himself as he watched you do the same. You see him frequently doing it, it’s always so sexy to you to have him watching. You’re always to nervous to a call for him but today you just couldn’t help it.

“You do?” He choked out almost feeling embarrassed. You nod “yeah it’s hot that you watch me though” you words coming out softly almost a whisper. “You like the idea of someone watching you get off?” He asked smiling a devilish smile. You nod almost too eagerly giving him a great idea. He stood up pulling you up bringing you over to the window you had opened. He leaned your body against it before dropping his shorts completely.

“Let’s let everyone watch you get off then hmm?” He said against your ear. He aligned his cock head to your soaked cunt pushing into you quickly. He wrapped his arms around you the feeling making his knees almost go weak. He’s stood at your doorway for how many weeks hoping you’d invite him in and now that you have he wasn’t letting you go. He wanted to be buried into you all day everyday. His perfect cock nestled so nicely into your cunt, poking at your abdomen you could see it slightly.

“No holding back, let everyone hear those beautiful moans I’ve listen to for so long” he said before he started to fuck into you. The sounds of his balls smacking against you filled the room. You moaned out gripping the window tightly. “That’s it baby let them hear you fuck-“ he groaned out he played with your nipples before moving you a bit so they were pressed against the glass. Your whole body on display for everyone to see.

Your cunt clenched tightly around changbin as you felt your high rushing over you. The sloshing sound coming from him pounding into you were so hot. The mess you were making on his cock was enough to make him cum. He gripped your thighs rubbing your clit as he deepened his thrusts. You almost screamed out, the new feeling, he was hitting your g-spot. Boy was he hitting is so fucking good too. “Gonna- fuck- I’m cumming!” You had almost no warning as the warm damn broke cumming all over his cock.

Changbin groaned at the feeling pumping sloppily into you pulling out the last second to paint your back with his thick white paint. He quickly grabbed a towel wiping your back off before picking you up laying you gently in bed. He kissed you softly before curling up against you rubbing your back. “Binnie” you said softly. “Mhm” he said in return in a soft hum. “Can we go again?” You asked pushing your hip back against his already semi hard cock. “We can go as many rounds as you can take sweetheart” he said placing his cock between your soaked lips. “I’ll fuck you all night beautiful and then I’ll make you breakfast” he teased kissing you.

“Bet.” You said pushing your hips back making his cock slide right back in where it belonged. You two fucked all night, like little feral animals. Laughing at the thought that this all started because you wanted to sleep. Your cunt had shaped so perfectly to his cock by now, almost engraved at this point. The morning of he kept his word making you breakfast. He brought it to you in bed since your legs were basically jello at this point. He positioned himself between your thighs as you ate. “We both get to have something tasty this morning.” He said with a smirk.

Fuck- what did you get yourself into? Honestly you weren’t gonna complain. Your brain had been scrambled more than the eggs you were eating. The man below you sucking your overly sensitive nub could go so many times over and over. And honestly? You were mad you waited this long. You both had so much fucking to catch up on.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

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changbunnies · 2 months ago

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Moonstruck (18+)

♡ Pairing: Changbin x Ghost Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: very loosely inspired by corpse bride, horror in a goofy + silly + fluffy sort of way, ghost / human relationship, love at first sight vibes, smut, takes place vaguely during a time where ppl still use landlines more predominantly than cellphones

♡ Word Count: 6.5k

♡ Summary: Changbin is a scaredy cat– and despite that, he likes to read to the deceased in the cemetery, likes to help the souls that may linger there feel less lonely, likes to let them know they aren’t forgotten. His poems of choice are sweet things, full of love and joy– and his utterances of true love stir you; a soul who died before knowing love, and who craves it even in death. And Changbin decides, then and there, that he wants to give you what you couldn’t have in life.

♡ Warnings: discussions about death ofc (reader is quite literally dead and a ghost lol), i thought making reader the ghost instead of bin would be a fun lil twist as that usually isn't the case in fics like these? just wanted to try somethin a lil different :')

♡ Smut Warnings: sweet + tender smut because i'm a yearner for bin first and foremost!, no intended dom/sub dynamics but i did write a lot of bin begging so :), pet names (baby, honey), exhibitionism, voyeurism, some nipple play, mutual masturbation while cuddling

♡ Notes: my kinktober opened up dark but we are returning to standard form with my precious sweet binnie!! i did originally have something dark planned for bin too but i scrapped it pretty early on cause it didn't feel right lol i couldn't do it!! also the poem binnie is reading at the beginning of the fic is "since feeling is first" by e.e. cummings!

Changbin curses the autumn sun for setting so early– why on earth is it already so dark at 6 o’clock?!

The full moon hangs over him, and gosh, he wishes he could've gotten here earlier in the day– maybe then he wouldn’t still be here, in the local cemetery at night, with nothing but his poem book in hand.

He wishes even more that he at least had a flashlight– but the batteries were drained in the one he has sitting in his car's glove box, and it's not like he can leave spares in there; that's dangerous! So all he can do now is keep turning in the moonlight, trying to get it to hit the page of his book just right so he can keep reading.

Perhaps the reason he's here is silly, but Changbin fully believes in ghosts. Well, to be more precise, he thinks that there are many souls in the world, and that not every soul is here physically.

Most souls, he thinks, depart for a better place when their flesh dies, but he also thinks there are many that don’t– many that stick around because there is something they still wish to do, or because they have someone they still wish to see.

That’s what always brings him here when he can spare a moment from his busy life. Because he believes that if spirits do still linger in this world like he thinks they do, if they haven’t yet found peace and moved on, they must be lonely.

It must be sad– to exist in the world you once knew, but be unable to interact with it the way you used to. For others to no longer be able to see you, touch you, or hear you.. He doesn’t want anyone, alive or otherwise, to feel forgotten or ignored. And if he can make a difference somehow, in whatever small and silly way it is, he’ll do it; because he’d want someone to do it for him.

Naturally, he didn’t intend to still be here at night; he just got caught up at work, and arrived here later than he typically would. But still, he didn’t want to just turn around and go home– he promised last week that he’d come back today to read!

And maybe ghosts, or spirits, or whatever you want to call them aren’t real; maybe he spends his time here reading to nothing and no one. But if there’s even a chance that someone can hear him, and who looks forward to the days he returns to keep them company, then he has to keep his promises.

Still, he’d be lying if he said he isn’t more than a little freaked out right now. He’s been here during the day plenty of times, and you’d think that’d mean he wouldn’t be scared of the place at night, but oh, you’d be so sorely mistaken.

He jumps every time the crisp, freshly fallen autumn leaves rustle from the wind, and from every shadow cast from the newly bare tree branches. He constantly glances over his shoulder, alerted from every small noise, whether it be an owl hooting or a cricket chirping.

And when a black cat appeared out of nowhere to bump against his leg, he let out the shrillest shriek before erupting into a fit of sneezes. He even jumped out of his skin from accidentally kicking a can while walking– and why is there litter in a cemetery anyways? Whoever left their trash here is so disrespectful!

Suffice it to say, Changbin really wants to get out of here– but there’s only one more batch of graves he hasn’t read over yet, and he doesn’t want to skip them over. It wouldn’t feel fair to them, especially not if they're waiting for him– the last thing he wants to do is disappoint someone.

“H-Hi everyone! Changbinnie’s back to read again, uhm– s-sorry I came so late, I’ll still read to you like I promised! J-Just give me a sec,” he says, trying to temper the fear in his voice as he continues to adjust the position of his book in the moonlight. Finally, he finds the perfect position for the moon to make the words in his book clear, and for the shadow he himself casts to not obscure them.

He takes one more tentative glance around, takes a breath to settle his nerves before he clears his throat to start. And thankfully, the fear does naturally start to dissipate a bit as he reads– serves as a good enough distraction from his eerie surroundings. "Since feeling is first, who pays any attention to the syntax of things, will never wholly kiss you. Wholly to be a fool while–"

Changbin pauses when he hears an unfamiliar sound, goosebumps erupting all along his skin as he looks up from his book. It was a soft, light and airy sound– almost like a voice, though he’s certain it couldn’t have been; because when he looks around, he doesn't see anyone. He’s as alone as he’s been from the start; so he assumes he's just psyching himself out, mistaking the steadily blowing wind for something it isn’t.

"Aish, it's nothing! Stop scaring yourself!" he whispers to himself before he continues to recite the words on the page. But he pauses yet again when he hears fallen leaves crinkle and a brittle tree branch snap just feet away from him. It spooks him good, it does– and he lets out an awkward laugh at himself when he realizes it was the black cat he saw earlier that made the sound; hopefully it keeps enough distance that he doesn't get the sneezes again.

Looking away from the cat that is currently working overtime to fray his nerves, he turns his attention back to his book. There's only a tiny bit of the poem left to go, and Changbin is confident he can get through it! No more being a scaredy cat over the little things, no more trembling breaths and anxious stutters– he can do this!

"The best gesture of my brain is less than your eyelids' flutter, which says we are for each other; then laugh, leaning back in my arms. For life's not a paragraph, and death, I think, is no parenthesis."

With a sigh of relief to be finished, he closes his book and prepares to bid the inhabitants of the cemetery, that may or may not actually exist, a pleasant goodbye; and a swear that he's never staying past sundown again. He’ll stay longer next time, he promises, but he has to go home before he loses his mind.

He really hopes they do exist– he doesn't want to think he stuck around while scared out of his wits for no reason; he hopes someone heard him, and was comforted by his presence. And honestly, he thinks he deserves a pat on the back after all the trials he's gone through in the last 30 minutes!

And as he finishes tucking his poem book in his arm and looks up, he sees someone. Translucent, hazy, floating, just a few feet in front of him– he can see straight through them, can see all the dark trees and short, stone headstones that live in the ground that the figure should obscure were they physically here.

Changbin blinks, almost wanting to cartoonishly rub his eyes and slap his cheeks to make sure he's seeing properly and not losing his mind like he fears. What he does instead is shriek, positively jumps out of his skin once again as he drops his book and falls back on his behind from the fright.

He scrambles backwards, ducks behind a nearby headstone and brings a hand over his racing heart. He takes a few breaths, does his best to calm down before he slowly peeks out from behind the headstone to see if the figure is still there.

He doesn't see anyone anymore– was he just seeing things? He has been really scared, so he doesn't think it impossible that his mind would start tricking him. But what if he really saw a ghost? The thought makes goosebumps rise on his skin again– God, he needs to go home already.

"Hello? Can you hear me?" he hears a voice, airy and otherworldly, just behind him. His breath hitches, and hesitantly, slowly, he starts to turn toward the source of the voice. You float there, brows furrowed as you call to him, glowing ever so slightly in the palest shade of blue.

A chill runs down his spine, and it's not just from how frightened he is– it's because cold air is quite literally radiating off of you. "Y-You– You're– You're a–" You're a ghost, he's trying to say, but the word catches in his throat. It doesn't help that his teeth are chattering now– he can even see his breath with every word he manages to choke out.

And yes, he already thought ghosts were real– the whole reason he comes here to comfort spirits is because he believes in them! But he’s never actually seen one before, nor heard their disembodied voices calling to him. And now that it’s actually happening, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“You can hear me! I knew it! You can see me too, can’t you?” you exclaim joyously, clapping your hands together in utter delight. You’re less transparent than before, your form less blurry– but you don’t look solid either. If he stuck his hand out to touch you, he’s sure it’d pass right through you.

He swallows as he watches you dart side to side in your glee, the motions so smooth it’s unnatural. You look around his age, he thinks, though it’s impossible for him to tell exactly how old you are– or rather, were. Your hair is wispy, floats around you in a way reminiscent of being underwater; your long dress does too, light and delicate in appearance.

“I’m sorry for scaring you, Changbin,” you tell him earnestly as you float down to his eye level, “I didn’t mean to, I just got so excited you could finally hear me– I'm so happy!”

“You– you know my name?” Changbin questions, bewildered– honestly, he feels like he’s going to pass out. “Of course I do! You come here every week to read to me,” you reply with a giggle, as if the idea that you wouldn’t know his name is a silly one.

“O-Oh, right, yeah, of course, that makes sense,” he mutters. He’s still shocked, but he’s not as scared as before, and he manages to relax just a little. “You, uhm– you listen to me read often then..?” he follows up hesitantly; and it’s probably such a silly question, but you’ll have to forgive him because he’s never had a conversation with a ghost before.

“Yes! I love when you come to visit and read your poems, it always makes me happy,” you tell him, adjusting your position so you’re sitting down with him– though you aren’t actually sitting on the dirt like he is, but levitating off the ground.

You introduce yourself after that, smile happily when he repeats it, because it’s been oh so long since someone said your name. “If you’re always here, why couldn’t I see you before?” Changbin can’t help but ask after, because now that the fear is dissipating he’s full of questions he wants to ask you.

“Well, the conditions have to be right! You can’t see me when it’s bright out, and you never stay 'til dark. And now I know why, scaredy cat,” you tease him, giggling when he pouts and huffs. You honestly find it endearing that someone as seemingly strong as Changbin is so easily frightened by little things.

“Hey, you’d be scared too!” he complains, though he can’t help but smile as you keep giggling at him. He never expected to befriend a ghost, but you’re obviously a kind spirit, and your delight to be talking to him is evident. And now that he’s over the shock and the fear, and really looks at you, he thinks you’re pretty too– beautiful, even.

Is that strange? Maybe; but you are still a person at the end of the day. You float, you’re a little transparent, you glow pale blue and cold air surrounds you, but you’re still a person.

And at the same time, he can’t help but feel sad too– death comes for everyone, he knows, but it feels unfair that someone like you is already gone from this world. Someone as young, kind, and beautiful as you should’ve lived a long, full life.

“You need to have strong emotions to manifest, y’know? And the moon helps– when it's full like this, it gives me more energy than I usually have,” you continue to explain when your giggling subsides, and Changbin hums contemplatively, thinking for a moment before he responds.

“You have strong emotions then? Something that keeps you here?” It makes sense that you would– as far as he knows, strong emotions are the only things tethering spirits to the physical world; so if you’re not at rest, it has to be because there’s something within you that feels unresolved, something you needed or wanted but never obtained.

Tentatively you nod, fiddling with your fingers and averting your gaze slightly. “I do, but.. It’s– it’s silly,” you mumble, and Changbin’s previous lighthearted, curious expression shifts, suddenly turning serious as he gazes at you with a slight frown.

“If it mattered to you– if it still matters to you, it’s not silly,” he says, and the sincerity in which he says it would make your heart race if you were still alive. If you’re being entirely honest, you’re in love with Changbin– and that’s part of the problem.

When you were alive, all you’d ever wanted was love– to meet someone that knocked you off your feet with just a glance, someone sweet, sincere, and tender. Someone that you could marry someday, maybe start a family with while living together in a quaint little idyllic house.

But that never happened– and the sense of despair and unfulfillment you felt from having your dreams taken away from you are what kept you here. You didn’t know what to do when you realized what happened to you– spent your days wailing in frustration and sadness to the few other spirits inhabiting the cemetery with you over the unfair circumstances.

What were you supposed to do? How were you supposed to find peace and move on? Maybe the only way would be to learn to accept it– accept that your dreams would never come true, and just let them go. You didn’t want to, but if you kept holding onto them, who knows when you’d finally move on from this world?

And around the same time you were grappling with such thoughts and feelings is when you first saw Changbin, who came to the cemetery for no reason other than to give you and the other inhabitants some company. And he wasn’t talking only to you, but it always felt like he was– like every word that left his lips was entirely for you alone.

“I’m here for you, you’re not alone as long as Changbin is here,” “This poem is my favorite, I hope you like it too,” “Did you have a good day today? It’s okay if you didn’t– Binnie’ll hopefully make it better!”

That’s all it took, really– and suddenly, you weren’t bound to this world because you never knew love; you were bound to this world because you felt it too much. You love him; not just because of his sweet personality, but every little detail about him– from the swoop and curl of his hair, to his chubby cheeks, to his cute, pretty and pouty lips.

And you long to kiss him, but Changbin is alive, and you very much aren’t anymore– and there’s no way he’ll fall in love with a ghost. Still, you believe him when he says that what binds you here isn’t silly– or that he won’t think so, at least.

“It’s just.. Well, I can’t have what I want, I know I can’t, but I still want it anyways; like, even though I should just let it go, I can’t bring myself to. I think that’s why I’m still here,” you tell him, deciding it’s best to keep your desires down to their vaguest parts.

Changbin is sweet, and he looks at you with so much care that you’re certain he’d be understanding and sympathetic, but it’s probably for the best that you don’t pour your heart out beyond that.

“Is there really no way for you to have what you want? If there’s anything I can do to help, you can tell me! I’d do my best,” he expresses sincerely, and though you can’t physically cry anymore, it almost makes you feel like you will. He’s just too sweet, you can’t take it.

“M-Maybe, but I wouldn’t ask for it,” you reply, and his brows furrow a little. “Why not? You don’t have to tell me if you really don’t want to, but I hope you know that I mean it when I say I'd be happy to help you," Changbin says, smile so patient, gentle and sweet that it if you were still alive, your cheeks would definitely be heating up right now.

Should you give it a shot? What's the worst that could happen? You're already dead, so it's not like you can die from embarrassment if he shuts you down. The worst he can say is no– and that would be okay too, because maybe with his rejection you'd finally be able to let go of what keeps you here.

“You could.. kiss me?” you say after a moment of hesitation, and Changbin almost squeaks from how surprised he is, blinks at you with the cutest flustered expression you’ve ever seen.

“Th-That’s– that’s what you want?” he stutters out, and even in the low light of the moon, you can tell he’s blushing, the soft pink spreading over his cheeks and crawling up to the tips of his ears.

“It’s– it’s what I wanted when I was alive. To kiss someone I love, I mean,” you answer, and it gets Changbin’s heart racing. Not just that someone as pretty as you, ghost or not, wants to kiss him, but the implication that you love him that definitely wasn’t missed by him.

“It was the poems, wasn’t it?” he says with a bashful little downturned smile a moment later, and you laugh, in your delightfully light and airy way as you nod. “They helped. But really, I just think you’re very cute– and very sweet.”

It’s a little strange, being complimented like this by a ghost, and learning that said ghost has very deep rooted feelings for him– but he likes it. And maybe it’s a little unorthodox, but he’d be happy to give you what you want; especially if it will help you find peace.

“I’ll kiss you,” he tells you, and it’s not because he feels obligated, or like he should– it’s because, believe it or not, he sincerely wants to. He thinks you're pretty, you're sweet and earnest, and you love him– so who cares if you're a ghost; why shouldn't he kiss you?

“A-Are you sure? You really don’t have to,” you assure him, and Changbin smiles at you as he nods, entirely certain. “I know I don’t have to. I want to kiss you.” Your spiritual heart soars and burns with joy– and slowly, timidly, you return his smile before you float your way closer to him, and reach your hand out to touch his cheek.

He doesn’t feel your touch, not really– just the cold that pours from you. Regardless, he closes his eyes for you, purses his lips and slightly tilts his head the way he would if he were kissing anyone else. And again, he doesn’t feel your lips, but the cold– that is, until the feeling suddenly starts to become fuller.

Slowly, he can begin to feel the way your hand rests on his cheek, can feel your lips slotted against his. He can feel your other hand resting on his chest, right over his heart, can feel the weight of your body on his lap, and he shivers– not because of the cold, but because he can actually feel you now.

Instinctively, he moves his hands to try and touch you– and is pleasantly surprised to find he can. His hands don’t phase through you like he thought they would earlier– he can feel you under his fingertips, as if you’re just as corporeal as he himself is. And so he holds you close, kisses you slow and sweet, over and over until he’s out of breath.

“You’re still here,” he can’t help but whisper when he pulls away; he half expected you to dissipate the moment you got what you wanted, though he’s not sure if that’s actually how it's supposed to work. And he’s left with a strange feeling– on one hand, he’s sad for you because he really did want to help you move on. On the other hand, he likes that you’re still here, that he can still see you and feel you.

In reality, you feel like his kiss tethered you even more to the physical world. You’re the happiest you’ve ever been, and instead of it giving you the peace you needed to move on, it bound you here stronger. You're filled with a strong desire to remain here, to be with Changbin, and you feel that it has made you manifest more than you’d ever been able to before.

You’ve tried many times before, but have never been able to manifest yourself this much; to the point that not only could you be seen and heard, but felt– and whether it’s because the full moon is helping, or because Changbin’s kiss gave you more energy and purpose, or a mix of both, you’re happy.

“I think I like you too much to move on.” you tell him, and he giggles as he squeezes you closer, his nose scrunching cutely whilst he hugs you.

“I’m sorry– I feel like I shouldn’t be, but I’m happy you’re still here,” he says, and you shake your head, returning his smile as you share the sentiment. “I’m happy I’m still here too.”

It’s a bit strange, having a ghost for a partner. Sharing a kiss attached you to him; and no longer bound to your grave, but to Changbin himself, now you go wherever he goes. You don’t need to always be right on him, of course– but you do have to be close; and every time one of you steps too far out of that radius, you always end up snapping back to him.

It’s a generous radius, really– you can go several miles before the invisible tether connecting you snaps you back to his side. It’s more than enough for you to exist in his house while he goes to work– and really, he’s happy to share his home with you; he’s sure it beats staying in the cemetery all day, every day.

And even when he can’t see you, whether because the sun is too bright in the sky or because you don’t have enough energy to manifest that day, he can feel you– and you make yourself known in little ways. His house is always cold now, but it’s especially cold when you’re nearby. You flicker his lights and turn his tv screen to static to get his attention, or leave a message in the steam from his hot showers on the mirror.

He’ll get a phantom phone call to his landline, where all that exists on the other line is static– but even if he can’t hear it, he’s sure at that moment you’re saying something sweet. And while he's mostly used to these occurrences now, he'll still jump when he hears a sudden noise before he remembers it’s you; a tapping on the wood of his bed frame, usually– 8 knocks meant to signify “I love you.”

Nights of the full moon are always when you can manifest yourself the fullest and easiest, and you both take full advantage of the time you have before you eventually start to become hazy and transparent again. Tonight is one of those nights; the moon hanging high, bright and beautiful, illuminating his dark room in the same pretty, pale blue that glows off you.

“Baby, please–! You’re so cold, warn me first!” Changbin cries when you first touch him. He already knows you’re not going to waste any time in getting to touch him when you first manifest, but the chill that radiates off you still jolts him every time.

“You’re just so warm,” you muse happily as you snake your limbs around him, sap him for all the warmth he’s worth under his fluffy comforter, “my big teddy bear.” He huffs, but smiles as he does– he can’t actually be upset with you, after all.

“You should let me take your warmth anyways– you were so mean, ignoring me all day,” you pout as you snuggle into him, burying your head in the warm crook of his neck.

“Hey, hey! Don’t say that, that’s not fair! You know I couldn’t see you!” he wails dramatically, and you have to make an effort not to giggle, bury your face further into him so he can’t see you smiling.

Of course, you know it’s not his fault in the slightest that he couldn’t see your or hear you earlier today, but you still like to tease him over it just a little– his reactions to it are always so cute. “So mean,” you repeat, your voice muffled by his sweater.

He knows that you’re doing it to get a rise out of him, and you know that he knows. But he likes doing this with you– it’s silly fun, and he loves the precious smile that spreads on your face when he plays along and inevitably dotes on you while begging for your forgiveness.

“Aigoo, my baby is really upset. Guess Binnie just has to make it up to you, huh?” he says, and you lift your head just enough to peek an eye at him. “Tell Changbinnie what you want, he’ll give it to you. He’s really sorry,” he entices you further, and the cute smile he was expecting and loves so much makes its full appearance.

“Want a kiss,” you say, pursing your lips at him in that cute duck shape as you wait for him to comply. He tries to coo at you, but it comes out more like a giggle before he’s lifting his head from the pillow to kiss you, tender and sweet.

“Do you forgive me now?” he asks when he pulls away, and you hum as you pretend to think about it. “Mm, I don’t know. I think I might need another one to decide.”

Changbin fully laughs then, shakes his head and mutters something about you being cute before he kisses you again. He shifts onto his side as he kisses you, making it easier for you to tangle your legs with his. He hisses when your cold toes touch the backs of warm calves, and you giggle an apology, though he knows you’re not actually sorry about it at all.

You always tell him how much you love his warmth, and how it radiates from every inch of him. And he’ll pout and shout, half-heartedly complain when you surprise him by touching him with your cold digits, simply because he knows it makes you laugh; you both know that in reality, he’s happy to be your personal heater.

He shivers when you snake your hands under his sweater; your hands aren’t as cold as they were when you first touched him anymore, but it’s still enough for goosebumps to follow the path of your fingers– or maybe he just has goosebumps because he likes you touching him.

Changbin gasps when you brush over his peaking, puffy nipples, and you take that moment to slip your tongue into this mouth. He moans when you pinch them between your fingers, tweak and twist just enough to have him squirming.

“Honey,” he breathes in a near whine when you pull away from him to kiss over his jaw, and the scar that sits on his chin, while your fingers continue to play with his body.

“I missed you,” you speak against his skin as you press kisses along his neck, “I heard you earlier– saw you touching yourself in the shower. I wanted you so bad, but I couldn’t do anything about it.” He whimpers at that, squeezes you where his hand rests on your waist.

Naturally, the fact that you can hear him and see him even when he can’t see or hear you always exists in the back of his mind. Every time he starts to touch himself, it’s something he considers– and he even likes it; likes knowing you’re there, watching and listening.

“I’m sorry, couldn’t help it,” he whines an apology, though he knows he doesn’t have to. You’ve both talked about it, of course– how you like watching him, and how he likes being watched in turn. There’s something naughty about it, and it always leaves him feeling extra desired and sexy when you later tell him what you saw, how much you want him because of it.

And when he feels a sudden chill run along his body and down the length of his spine, is hit with the inexplicable sensation of being watched, he knows it’s you. It always fuels him, makes him fist his cock faster and run his mouth, hoping you like everything he’s spilling.

Really, it’s no wonder that you always jump his bones the minute you can. Changbin thinks he’d go insane if the situation were the opposite; if he could see you touching yourself, could hear every little noise of pleasure you release, and not be able to join no matter how bad he wanted to. He’s already desperate for more intimacy with you as is– he doesn’t think he’d be able to take it.

“Can you do it again? Touch yourself with me right here?” you ask him, and he can’t help the way his face flushes as you continue, “I want you to see me watching you this time.” You can feel the way his heart thumps in response to your request, how it picks up speed ever so slightly before he answers. “Y-Yeah, I can– I can do that for you, honey.”

You meant it when you said you like watching Changbin get off. You like watching his honeyed skin slowly take on more and more pink as he strokes his cock. You like watching his broad chest puff out, his stomach clench, his toned arms flex with every motion he makes.

You like watching the sweat build on his brow, and like to listen to his moans become more breathy and whiny as he gets closer and closer to release. And though Changbin isn’t naked now, you’ll still enjoy watching all the same; because he's beautiful, and handsome, and so utterly perfect when he's feeling good.

He reaches between your bodies, manages to get his pajama pants and underwear down just enough to release his still hardening cock from their confines. He bites his lip as he takes the short length in his hand, looks down at himself as he strokes it slowly before looking back at you.

There’s still enough lingering sensitivity from before that he squirms more than usual, but that’s not all there is to it– it's your attentive stare, the way you gaze into his eyes as he moans before you trail them away to watch him stroke himself, and back again. And you’re so close, body so tangled with his, that his fist keeps bumping into your thigh with each pump of his cock.

Changbin keens when you kiss him, so affectionate and tender that it makes his head spin. You can feel his thighs twitch as he starts to stroke himself faster, and you pull away to watch for a few moments before you tilt your head back up to kiss him again. He's fully hard now, dripping pre-cum so steadily that the glide of his hand becomes slick and effortless.

He whimpers when you pinch his nipples again, parts his lips so you can slip your tongue back into his mouth. His breathing becomes steadily harsher and uneven, his every moan and whimper muffled by your lips against his. He brings his other hand to your ass, squeezes it as he pulls you even closer to his body, as if the fact that you're not already mere inches apart with your limbs tangled together is enough for him.

And truly, he can't get enough of having you close like this. The way you kiss him, touch him, look at him, all while he’s stroking his cock for you– it really does something to him; makes him feel so good and so desired that he swears he could cum purely from the intimacy of it alone.

“You too, please?” Changbin pleads in a breathy exhale the next time you pull back from kissing him, “Please, want to watch you too.”

“Yeah? You want to watch me?” you smile, almost giggle from the eager nod and the whiny, desperate “please, want it so bad,” he gives in response. You’re sweet to your Binnie, oblige him in an instant, and he watches with eager eyes and bated breath as you dip your hand between your bodies.

Even with your dress already hiked all the way up your thighs, you’re so closely pressed to him that he can’t get a clear sight of your pussy; but watching your hand will be enough of a view for him. He'll be able to tell what you're doing, and that's all he really needs.

All you can reach while this close and tangled together with Changbin is your clit, and he watches you shudder at the first bit of stimulation to it from your fingers. He mimics what you’d done– alternates between watching your face and your hand, and God, every time your eyes meet again it takes his breath away.

It’s not the same as if you had a physical body like his– your face doesn’t flush, you don't sweat from exertion, and you don’t grow breathless the way he does, but you feel the pleasure all the same. He can tell from the furrow of your brow, the tremble of your body, and the bite of your lip as you gaze at him.

And you're so pretty, face so close to his that your foreheads touch, that his every breath tickles you. "Oh my god, baby–" he whimpers when you start to moan with him, picking up the pace of your hand when he does, matching his speed.

It makes him dizzy– because when he closes his eyes, he can pretend he’s inside you; pretend that the sloppy, squelching sounds his fist creates are from your pussy instead. He can pretend that when you moan and whimper, it’s because he's stretching you out perfectly and hitting your spot just right.

He holds your gaze when he opens his eyes again, completely stops watching the motion of your fingers between your legs so he can strictly observe you, take in your pretty face and how you look when you're feeling good with him. It’s intimate, staring at you like this; it makes him squeeze his cock tighter, the motion of his fist quickly becoming erratic as he drives himself closer to release.

“Does it– do you feel good?” Changbin asks, because even though he knows, he still wants to hear you say it. “Do you like this? Tell me– please tell me.”

“Feels so good, Binnie, love this, love you so much– you can’t see it, but I always touch myself with you like this, always make myself cum watching you,” you tell him, and he whimpers from your admission, high-pitched and squeaky.

“Oh, ‘m so close– will you cum with me? Please, need you to cum with me,” Changbin whines and pleads, every inch of his body trembling as he tries to hold his orgasm back long enough to hear your answer.

“I will, ‘m gonna cum for you, Binnie, just for you,” you promise, reaching your free hand out to cup his face, keeping your eyes locked with his as you watch each other unravel. Your paces are frantic now, bodies bucking together with every combined motion of your hands between your tangled legs.

You lean forward to kiss him just as your high takes you, and it sends him right over the edge with you, eyes rolling back before they flutter closed. Noises of pleasure muffled by each other’s lips, his hips jolt as his cum spills over his fist, onto your thighs and the hand you have nestled between them.

He’s sure some of it got on his comforter too, but he doesn’t care– he just keeps kissing you as he comes down from his high, because despite how breathless he is, it's all he wants to do. “I love you so much,” he tells you after another sweet kiss, and you smile at him, tell him you love him too as you wipe the sweat sticking his curly hair to his forehead away.

You stay like that the rest of the night; tangled together, hugging each other close and kissing tenderly until Changbin’s fatigue prevents him from doing so any longer. He falls asleep like that, holding you to his body as much as he can; and even when your physical form starts to dissipate with the rising of the sun, you stay right against him.

When he wakes in the morning, he can’t see you anymore, but he knows you’re there. He tells you he loves you, and he smiles when you reply with your 8 little knocks to his bed frame. He talks to you throughout his morning, as he always does, because even if he can’t see you, he knows you’re listening.

And when he decides to go back to the cemetery to read to the other spirits that still linger there, as he promised them he would, you go with him. He saves your grave for last, and you watch as he puts flowers on your headstone before he settles in to read to you; and even when he can’t see you because the sun is just too bright, he can feel you there, sitting next to him and listening to his poems.

When he’s finished reading, he’ll feel a sudden touch of cold on his cheek, and he’ll know it’s from you kissing him. He’ll smile, place his hand over the spot and tell you again that he loves you. And when Changbin returns home, and the light of the moon helps you manifest again, he’ll kiss you all over and squeeze you tight, with a million promises of forever on his lips.

#skz x reader #changbin x reader #skz smut #changbin smut #skz fanfic #changbin fanfic #skz imagines #skz scenarios #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune #kinktober fic and yet i once again wrote more plot than porn. yeah it's fine what's new #but also the me who thought she could write something short and plot-free for binnie was so funny. like who do you think you are?

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love-note-musings · 6 months ago

Text

˙✧˖°📷 ⋆｡˚꩜ toby x reader // creepypasta oneshot

request: HelloI May i request a oneshot where toby pins the reader against a wall and maybe threatens her but she lowkey can't focus BC she's thinking how pretty he is? The reader has a love hate relationship with him. Sorry if it's confusing.

word count: 3.6k

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As the last costumer of the day left, your shoulders dropped as the tension ebbed out of your body, dropping the “customer service smile” you had plastered on for the last couple of hours. A lengthy sigh left your mouth and you shook out the tired feeling from your muscles and with a swift lock of the doors, you began your nightly routine of cleaning for close.

Working the night shift wasn’t so bad, you had thought, it was generally pretty uninteresting, living in a small town and all, the clientele were the same, jobs were casual, it wasn’t that horrible. Having worked at this quaint restaurant for a couple of years, you knew the ins-and-outs pretty well and you operated most of the tasks you needed to on autopilot. However, the job was one thing, and daily living was another. Of course the pay was less than what you needed to live on realistically, what with housing, insurance, and feeding yourself. You still didn’t mind the nightshift, you found it rather relaxing.

Wiping down tables, sweeping floors and mopping, cleaning out cappuccino machines, all of it went by as fewer cars passed on the road. You could hear the breeze start of as a small gust here and there until it picked up into a violent wind that rattled the building. Soon, you figured it would begin storming, with big raindrops pelting down and you surely wanted to be in your own home underneath thick blankets before then.

Unlocking the back entrance, you began dragging the heavy trash-bags out in the back of the parking lot, the last thing you’d need to complete before heading home for the day. You could feel how the cold nipped at your skin and willed your legs to go faster.

The city was always quiet, it was still except for the symphonies trees played nearby in the forest, clanging against each other from the wind. There were stories of course, about people going in and never coming back, but there were lots of people who did come back, more so than the latter, so the locals knew it as folktales. In reality, it was just another ordinary small town, with small-towned people, small-towned restaurants, and small-towned ideas. Forest or not, it was also another small-town ideal.

Swinging the bag into the bin, you closed it with a sharp bang just as the back door to the restaurant flew with a clang. The weather was worsening overhead with dark clouds hiding the moon and the wind was threatening to take you away with it. Your feet carried you back inside as fast as they could, one pounding after another. //

// He crashed into the back door with a thud as his legs gave out, one arm trying to hoist himself up and another trying to stop his wound from exuding any more blood. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle, but the exhaustion was creeping up his body, the lights had looked like crystallized diamonds hanging off of his eyelids, and he stumbled into them with reckless abandon before collapsing on tiled floor… somewhere. Vision swimming, legs crumpled underneath him, he sat there, body trembling and nauseated, trying to grasp onto his abdomen in an attempt to convince his body to let him back up, to keep moving. It wasn’t even that bad of a wound despite its length, it wasn’t anything he couldn’t work with, but there he was, slipping on himself in the back of some beat-up building. The lights slightly flickered every few seconds, the buzzing of electrical appliances seemingly rang through his ears in tenfold, there was nothing in his stomach but his body forced him to empty it anyway, spilling out nothing onto the black and white tiles besides the gagging noises coming from him. He couldn’t stop the movement from racking his body once again as he dragged himself forward.

There was a scream, a crash maybe, all he saw was a figure with their arms raised high, ready to pounce on him, everything else was foggy besides the lights. Big, bright lights. Groggily, he looked up with lidded eyes, mouth slightly agape, nostrils flaring, trying to allow more oxygen into his lungs. He yelled at his brain to move faster and to process the situation, finding nothing once again but some static sound that filled it. Their mouth moved, and the sound flowed back into his ears, slowly, and then all at once.

“I said—“ they cleared their throat “do you need me to call the authorities?” There was an umbrella raised threateningly in their hands, knuckles already turned white. It looked like their breath was caught in their throat and their body shaked. He slowly registered the information piece-by-piece, stringing together some semblance of thought.

Slowly, he forced his head to move side to side, shaking ‘no’.

“Are you hurt?” They asked authoritatively, despite the tremble in their knees.

Again, another rather slow nod, another no. Hurt was subjective, after all.

Sighing, they lowered the umbrella just a little more to their side. “What do you need? Are you in trouble?”

He ended up coughing violently, his head was spinning and he was mentally whacked. “b.. bath- can I use your b..athroom.”

They stood off to the side and pointed towards it, watching his movements as he tried to force himself to stand upright. He managed to get up to his knees before crashing over again.

“I’m going to help move you there, okay?” they said as they set the umbrella down against the wall and moved closer towards him. He nodded once and they hooked an arm underneath his and guided him to the bathroom.

They turned on the light inside, indicated him to ‘be careful’ and that ‘there was a first aid kit under the sink’, before leaving him alone with a soft close of the door.

Toby gazed at himself in the mirror, bracing his weight against the sink before shakily turning the knob and splashing himself with cool water. How many days had it been since he had first left? He couldn’t even recall how long he’d been out, but it was long enough for his body to put the brake lights on his activities and start naming demands. And one of the demands was water. He earnestly started to drink the water from the faucet, cupping his hand and bringing it up to his lips over and over again.//

// Meanwhile, an exasperated worker decided to flick back on the lights to the dining room and begin preparing a small meal to share with the guy who just stumbled into their restaurant. They didn’t really know what his deal was, nor did they care to know, they just wanted to give him something to eat before sending him back out into the storm. If he wouldn’t talk then maybe he’d eat and be able to go back home or something like that. Whatever the case was, it wasn’t your responsibility to know, but you’d also be damned for not trying to help him out just a little bit.

It took awhile, but the bathroom door finally clicked open and close again. Toby stumbled along the hallway and followed the light into the dining room. There were bandages wrapped around his abdomen and minor scratches on his legs and arms. His body was exhausted and his mind was more or less alert.

“Hey,” when you saw him feebly inch his way, you quickly went over and offered a hand, to which he shaked it off. Regardless, you told him where he could sit in the dining room, a little booth by the kitchen door, and watched to make sure he settled himself well. You made a note of how determined he was despite his body practically shutting down, and he hadn’t tried to stop himself yet. Even as he fell into the booth, you watched as his body relaxed and his eyes stayed vigilant, always looking this way and that, carefully observing. It was fascinating. But again, it wasn’t your business.

You placed a plate in front of him with leftover food from the fridge and a pastry you had been saving to take home. “You have a drink preference? I can get you water.” He shook his head and you got him a glass of water anyway, of which he eyed a bit oddly, sipping little by little. When he saw the food, however, you noticed that he immediately went for the pastry.

He was…strange, at the very least, that’s what you gathered as you watched him from the kitchen picking at his food and glancing around every couple minutes to double and triple check his surroundings. If you had to admit to yourself, you just wanted to go home, and by now it was raining, evident by the sound of raindrops pattering onto the rooftop. You were tired too, having worked all day, cleaning up and waiting on people, and now doing it all over again for a second time. Thankfully tomorrow you’d have a day off.

When he drank all of the water in the glass, you went over to refill it. “My name’s Y/n, what’s yours?” You asked with as much normalcy as possible, hand settling on your waist as you stepped back to watch his expression.

“Toby.” He muttered, before eating more and ignoring you.

“It’s nice to meet you, Toby.”

Sometime while you were re-cleaning the kitchen, you heard the bells on the door open with a clamor and close. Shrugging, you supposed he would have left, and you didn’t expect anything more from him. But now that you were thinking about it, it was kind of weird for someone to stumble in from the back of the building, but lots of things happened out in the forest. People go out with their friends, some people like hunting deer, who knows? Some kid could have just gotten mixed up with the wrong people and left out there. You don’t consider it much, but you sealed it away in the back of your mind as a little note for later as you left the restaurant and headed home. Personally, you had never experienced anything bad out there. //

// It became more common for ‘Toby’ to show up after closing hours. Every few days or so, he’d show up looking tired and miserable, he’d ask to use your bathroom and then lug himself out to the dining room while you gave him the leftovers. You didn’t push him to talk about himself and settled for short conversations about the weather, or asking if he needed you to call anyone this week. Whenever you asked if he needed anything, he’d say no and continue eating solemnly, playing with his food and acting almost disinterested with it.

“What’s your favorite food?” You asked while chewing a piece of bread from the pantry.

Toby shrugged, “I don’t really have one.”

“There has to be something that you like at least? Can’t you think of something? I can try to make sure we keep some of it here.”

He pondered for a moment, putting his fork down. You never questioned his sudden movements or verbal outbursts at all, figuring it’d be best not to pester him with questions since he obviously couldn’t control it, other people probably bothered him enough. Toby answered you quietly, “I liked that pastry you first gave me, I..I don’t remember when that was.”

“Hmm.. okay. I can get it for you next time.”

And the next time you did, and the time after that, until you were sure that he was sick of it every time you served it to him. But he never said anything and accepted it without a word.

Perhaps you could say that the two of you had come to a mutual understanding, maybe a friendship, and you wouldn’t admit it to yourself that you looked forward to your short and awkward meetings. You didn’t know much about each other, but you felt comfortable despite his out-of-the-normal appearance and habits. It was non-judge mental, as far as anyone else was concerned, nothing happened here after-hours anyway.

You found yourself tracing his facial features in your mind, promising them to memory and making mock-paintings in your mind. He had pretty eyelashes, his skin was pale and light, he had deep scarring on the side of his mouth, that’s why you assumed he wore the mask in public, you couldn’t be sure though, and you could be less sure about the googles attached to his jeans. The only thing is that you’d wish he’d eat more since it was obvious his health wasn’t the greatest. Whenever you saw him, he was almost always exhausted and almost ready to pass out. Although, besides the first time you met, you didn’t see him with any more wounds, so you supposed it was just some off-handed accident and nothing intentional.

Yeah, you politely admitted to yourself that you were quite fond of your new and odd friend. Perhaps attracted, whatever attraction meant. You found him nice to be around. And maybe, just maybe, you wanted him to feel the same. It had been a long time since you’ve had a proper friend. . .

Rock songs played from the radio atop the refrigerator, melodies soft and sweet, they played from collections of the classics and you loved it. During your shifts you’d lose yourself in the tune, pretending that you existed inside music videos and getting lost in a world where the waiters and waitresses were the main characters. You had asked Toby a while ago if he liked the station you left the radio on, hoping it was to his tastes. He had replied affirmatively, and you had kept the radio on that station every time he visited.

“Come on, get up.” you instructed, coming around the bar and onto the dining room floor.

“What?” He asked, nonetheless getting up from the barstool and following you along.

“You like this song, I like this song, let’s dance.”

“But I don’t know how—“ Toby insisted as you took his hands anyway.

You scoffed with a fool’s smile, “Neither do I.”

At first you dragged him along around the dining room floor, navigating between the tables and chairs, tapping to the beat. He was awkward and didn’t know how to move his legs, flinging this way and that, but eventually he fell into your pattern and moved along. You both laughed, rocking your bodies to the beat hand in hand. Swaying left and right and once or twice trying spin each other. At one point, Toby almost toppled over into a couple of chairs, but you grabbed on tight to his hands and didn’t let go. A silly little smile spread across your faces and the two of you turned giggly as a new song started playing and the dance continued.

It was true—the two of you really didn’t know how to dance, and if anyone were to look into the windows they’d see two people who were wildly uncoordinated. You felt like you owned the world and that your body was perfectly aligned to the songs, you saw Toby and how he finally looked relaxed, mouthing along to the lyrics and shaking his arms around freely with his eyes closed. When you started screaming out the lyrics yourself, belting out notes pitches too high or low, he didn’t hesitate in joining you, resulting in one grand cacophonous harmony.

When Toby left later that night, it hit him in the face. Realization, fear, all of those types of things that crept up his back and settled into the crock of his neck before lodging itself into thought. That feeling, it settled inside of him and wouldn’t leave, it overwhelmed him and gnawed away at his stomach lining. Toby was never still, and it was more apparent now as the anxiety rose up his cheeks. He gulped, drank from the water bottle you had given him, slipped his hatchets into his belt loops and disappeared back into the forest. He always left his hatchets hidden behind your restaurant whenever he visited you. Just so you’d never see them with all the dents and stains that’d scare you away and leave him alone again. Toby really hated being alone sometimes.

And Toby also knew who he was. It was evident by those same stains. It haunted him. He would never be able to sleep without seeing all of the things he’s witnessed, that he’s done. While knowing who you also were, he knew that you wouldn’t need him, that you’d need to help other people that got lost at night, who just need a helping hand. He’d hope you’d be able to help a lot more people than just him. You’d need to forget him, or at least you would, eventually. //

// The night was quieter than normal. There was no radio playing, there were no cars passing by on the road, and there was no rain or wind, clear skies all day and all night. In short, it was boring. You were propped up by your elbow as you leaned over the bar countertop, idly skimming through the contents in some magazine left here by another customer. Only one customer remained, a pleasant old man who stopped by during the weekdays to watch the news on the television here. With a yawn and a tip, he left too, and you weren’t bothered to immediately lock the door after his departure. It had been a slow day.

He was behind the restaurant, hunched behind some garbage cans and waiting to hear the last car pull out from the parking lot. Everything was still and he was seeing the place for the first time with orange-tinted lenses. He shook and shivered, bones rattling, and he couldn’t stop his arms from jerking even as he held himself together tighter. The last customer was gone. Now he just had to wait for you to come outside. Rocking back and forth to calm himself, he toyed with the fraying strings on the edge of his sleeves, occupying his mind and trying to distract himself from the bloodstains forming on his shirt and pants, not to mention the uncleaned hatchets that hung by his side. It wasn’t until a rather loud clang that he was snapped out of his trance.

Shooting up from his hiding spot, he made his way over to you without even a trickle of a sound.

All of a sudden you were shoved back towards the building, the air was knocked out of your chest from the force and you stumbled back. Toby had one hand blocking your exit, and another raised high above your head with a hatchet threatening to crack your skull open.

He stared at you, questioning himself, looking at you and then the hatchet and then you - you were terrified, and trembling, and god he wanted to disappear right at that moment, to drop everything and cling onto you. And he knew it wasn’t going to happen, but still his arms wobbled and there was a hitch in his throat. One hand slowly went to his mouth to stop the whimperings from escaping and the other slowly lowered his weapon until it fell onto the pavement.

How could he be so stupid? He caved for the niceties, any inking of kindness and he instantly folded his hand. It wasn’t the terror in your eyes that had stopped him, it was just you. The way it felt to be so close again, how his body responded by going weak, he wanted to stay like that for a long time, he wanted to stay by you for as long as you’d let him. But he couldn’t do that, could he? Trust is a delicate thing. He knew that lesson well.

You stood there with your back pressed painfully against the wall, your heart was beating frantically against your chest, your muscles were tense, your eyes were glued on Toby as he lost his resolve and crumbled down onto the ground in a heap with his head in his hands. Sobs wracked his body up and down and he heaved. Kneeling down next to him, you grabbed the hatchet and threw it as far as you could, considering for a moment if you should comfort him or not before placing a hand tentatively on his back, rubbing circles once he responded to your touch. The goggles on his face were fogging up, and you carefully found the clasp underneath a topple of tangled brown hair, letting it fall onto the ground as you wiped the tears falling down his cheeks with your hand and slipped off his facial mask.

His eyes did not meet yours, leaning over and making himself seem small. He sobbed until there were no more tears left, and even then his chest just heaved wildly as he struggled to find an even breathing pace. Kneeling closer, you wrapped your arms tighter around him, embracing, whispering in a soothing voice.

Toby wrapped his arms around your waist, slowly at first before completely enveloping you, resting his head into your lap. You felt nice, and comfortable, safe. He hung onto you for dear life.

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originally posted on quotev/citrusyfruits, reposted with permission

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