#no but i haven’t wrote smut in a long time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelsgoldrush · 3 months ago

Text

“never is a promise” | 12.4k

old man!logan x f!reader

SUMMARY: You are everything Logan isn’t: sweet, trouble-free, much younger—and, to top it off, Charles' caregiver.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ mentions of drinking. angst. some fluff. old man!logan x caregiver!reader. implied age gap (reader’s in her twenties). miscommunication. slow burn. pining. reader is shorter than logan and has long hair. charles in his cupid era. petnames. minor injuries. wound tending. mentions of blood. virgin!reader. dirty talk. cum shots. fingering. handjobs. oral sex (m receiving). loving sex. sex with a lot of feelings (is that a tag?). unprotected p in v.

A/N: i just want to fall in love with him. that’s it. that’s the reason why i wrote this long ass fic 😭 while doing so, i had “never is a promise” by fiona apple and “cool about it” by boygenius on repeat. give them a try if you haven’t listened to them (your lives will be CHANGED) (also, thank you for reading <3)

No matter how often you play chess with Charles, you never manage to beat him.

“You’ve been staring at that knight for five minutes. It’s not going anywhere, I promise.”

Chuckling at his sarcasm, you fold your hands in your lap, lifting your eyebrows in mock surrender. “Okay, I get it. You’re the master of chess,” leaning back in the chair, you cross one leg over the other. “Can we play something else?”

“I’m quite entertained, thank you,” Charles says, sliding the board closer to you across the table. “Your turn.”

“How is it that you don’t get tired of this game?” you mutter under your breath, eyes fixed on the board as you weigh your options, hovering your hand indecisively over the chess pieces.

“Please do something before I’m forced to make a dash for the toilet.” He hangs his head, pinching the bridge of his nose—a telltale sign of one of his irritable days.

His words spur you into action, encouraging you to finally slide the knight into position. You glance up, meeting his gaze with a hint of challenge. “You go now.”

Charles doesn’t hesitate, and he moves a bishop. “Check.”

Fuck. You hadn’t seen that coming. “I’d prefer to walk away with my pride,” you joke, pushing your chair back and pretending to lose interest in the board.

That makes him smirk, a barely there grin dangling on the corners of his wrinkled lips. The truth is, you wouldn’t stop playing for anything in the world—not even if this old man kicks your ass every single time he suggests playing chess. “You’re not out of the game yet.”

Quietness settles over the tank while you allow yourself some time to come up with a new strategy. After a moment, you decide to go for a pawn, using it to block his bishop.

He doesn’t stop grinning, studying your move with an amused glint in his blue eyes. “Not bad, but you’ve left your king exposed.”

You gape at the board, your fragile confidence faltering for a split second. "I still have some pieces in play."

Charles nods, his brows drawing together in thoughtful consideration. "True. But sometimes, it’s not about how many pieces you have left—” He reaches out, carefully sliding his queen across the board. "It’s about where you place them.” He relaxes, hunching over, his eyes searching for yours. A smile that’s all teeth welcomes you. “Checkmate."

“Damn.” You blow out your cheeks, your gaze tracing the path of his queen. Somehow, he’s trapped your king with no easy way out.

He leans back with a satisfied grin. “That’s three games in a row. My suggestion is that you start rethinking your strategy.”

“Or maybe you’re just a better player,” you admit, a mix of frustration and admiration palpable in your tone. “No more chess for today, though.” You stand up from your seat, gathering the board and chess pieces. As usual, they find their place under Charles’ bed, and you turn back to him, beaming with delight. “I think you owe me one after all this.”

“You’re a terrible loser, my dear,” he says, his eyes twinkling as they take you in. “Reminds me of someone I know.”

At that exact moment, you hear the familiar creak of the tank’s door opening, followed by a cough you immediately recognize.

Without thinking, you straighten your back as Logan steps into the room. Charles notices it, but says nothing in return.

It was an infatuation—or at least, that’s what you try to convince yourself of. Logan is a very good-looking man, probably the most handsome you’ve ever laid eyes on.

The fact that you live with him doesn’t help at all. You think that if you only saw him occasionally, this—this anxiety that grips you whenever he’s around or when you hear his voice—wouldn’t happen in the first place.

Whether it’s good or bad luck, you’ve been sleeping under the same roof as him for over a year, and the crush you’ve had since the first time you exchanged words with him only seems to grow stronger with each passing day.

What you figure out over time is that men like Logan aren’t the dating type. He’s never brought anyone home, and for that, you’re secretly grateful. The last thing you need is to see him with another woman—thank you very much. Still, the thought gnaws at you: he could easily be meeting someone elsewhere.

In fact, it’s more than likely that he’s hooking up with other people. It doesn’t have to be at—

Alright. You don’t need this either.

Logan’s heavy footsteps resonate even louder, his presence more imposing, and he seems especially pissed off. Then again, he always has that demeanor—angry, grumpy, locked in a constant battle with life.

But today… today, you haven’t seen him this troubled in weeks.

“Look who’s joined us,” Charles mumbles, steering his motorized chair to meet him halfway. The chair bumps against Logan’s legs with a thud that sounds almost cartoonish, and Charles scrunches up his nose, his nostrils flaring in disgust. “You smell like shit.”

“Yeah, I missed you too, Pop,” Logan grunts, shoving his hand into the pocket of his suit, searching for something. That’s when you notice the bloodstains on his shirt, smeared across his chest, and the missing buttons at the top. Your breath catches in your throat, and you bite your tongue to keep from asking any foolish questions. “They gave me new ones,” he mutters, looking you in the eye as he tosses the pill bottle at you.

You leap forward to catch it mid-air, your heart skipping a beat. Logan holds your gaze for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before giving a slight nod and turning on his heel to storm out of the tank.

When your attention goes back to Charles, you see how his eyes remain locked on the pills you’re holding, his head lowering in defeat. “He’s waiting for me to die.”

“Don’t say that.” You squat to be at his eye level, momentarily hiding the meds from his view. Still, you struggle to make him shift his gaze. “He’s taking care of you, which is something completely different.” You place your hand on top of his knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You’ve had this same conversation innumerable times, yet each time feels like the first. He offers you a melancholic but knowing look as you softly say: “You have to take them, Charles. I’m sorry.”

He raises a hand, his trembling fingers curling around your wrist, examining you, trying to find an answer in the lines. “Don’t be. At least you’re here.”

“I’m sure Logan’s tired; that’s why he doesn’t stay any longer. Haven’t you seen him?” You rise to your feet, moving behind him to guide his chair. The tank sort of has a chill in the air, metallic walls that seem to press in around you both. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to play chess with him. Rest assured I’ll always let you win,” you murmur next to his ear, succeeding in eliciting a chuckle from him.

After that, you help him with his daily routine. Charles isn’t heavy, and you manage to get him onto the bed, his frail body yielding to your gentle support.

You slip the rest of his body beneath the blankets, tucking him in carefully before handing him two pills and a glass of water. “All the way down, okay? And I wanna see that tongue after you swallow them.”

If looks could kill, you’d be six feet under, covered in dust and dirt. Charles sticks his tongue out, putting the glass down on his nightstand. “Happy?”

“You’ve got no idea how much,” you say, adjusting the covers. The silence of the tank surrounds you both, and you can sense his gaze lingering on you. You flick your eyes up, furrowing your brows as you sit in the small space beside him on the mattress. “What is it?”

“You fancy him, don’t you?”

Freezing on the spot, your eyes narrow. “I—I don’t—” you trail off, pushing the words out with some effort. “Are you trying to read my mind?”

His whole chest rumbles with laughter under your touch. He finds your hand once again, intertwining your fingers with his. “Don’t be so naïve. I don’t need my abilities to see the way you get all flustered when he passes by. Why do you think they say older people are wiser?” he inquires, his lips forming a straight line. “We’ve lived too much not to notice the most common things, my dear—and let me tell you that you do a horrible job at pretending.”

“Of course I like him. Logan’s a good man, he keeps us safe.” You glance down at your hands—his, weak and delicate, in evident contrast to your own. “I’m not in love with him, Cupid.”

“Oh, you should’ve seen him years ago,” Charles says, his eyes glazing over as he drifts back into the past. His body remains here, within the confines of the room, but his mind is elsewhere, somewhere far away. You give his hand a gentle tug, trying to bring him back. “When we took him in, he was pursuing a career as a cage fighter. I had never seen anyone like him in all my years of educating mutants. He was so… different from the rest. Reserved, didn’t talk much at first. But I gave him a family, I—” His voice falters, overcome by his own emotions.

That’s when you realize he’s no longer with you, his gaze unfocused, looking around the tank as if seeing it for the first time. It pains you to see him like this, completely disoriented and disconnected from reality.

“Why are we here? What has happened to the rest? Has he told you anything?”

These are the questions he asks every day without fail—questions that you can’t, nor want, to answer. Since you’re not exactly sure the explanation would soothe his troubled mind, you feel forced to play dumb.

“I don’t know, Charles. We don’t really talk that much, Logan and I.” You stand from the bed, not without pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead before. You smile at him, hoping he doesn’t realize the gesture lacks authenticity. “Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll let you know if I hear anything worth sharing.”

Once you close the door behind you, you settle back into it, releasing a shaky breath. Being Charles’ caregiver was a challenging task, especially in moments like these, which required immense internal strength not to crumble in front of him.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you adjust to the harsh sunlight, fighting to regain your composure. When you finally scan the area, the only thing that meets your eye is the deserted smelting plant you now call home.

You open the sliding door, the noise breaking the stillness and forcing Logan to look up from his plate. He’s eating like a starved man, casually drinking from a small bottle of whisky on the table, already half of it gone. After those long drives through the nights and the early hours, he always returns hungry.

You pour yourself a cup of coffee, setting it on the stove to heat. Neither of you says anything for a few minutes: he eats, and you sip your hot coffee in silence, not wishing to disturb the breakable peace that hangs by a thread.

Thinking this is how the noon will continue, you begin to walk toward your room until he clears his throat, stopping you in your tracks. That simple gesture makes you whirl around, anticipating something.

“This is delicious,” he acknowledges, pointing to his plate with his fork, the rice with veggies and meat you cooked last night nearly gone. Dipping his chin, he adds in a low voice: “Thank you.”

You’re taken aback by his unexpected willingness to engage in conversation. Moments like these are as rare as seeing Halley’s Comet, so you proceed with caution, as if you’re approaching a skittish animal—one wrong move, and the opportunity is lost.

Setting your mug down on the table, you sit on the chair opposite him. Deep down, the hammering of your heart echoes in your ears, and you hope his sharp senses don’t pick up on it.

“I’m glad you liked it. Charles ate two bowls of it,” you explain, unable to suppress a smile. Logan hums, tilting his head to the side as he keeps devouring his meal. You take another sip of your coffee, blowing on it in a futile attempt to cool it down. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Huh?”

“Charles. He—he asks to see you a lot,” you begin, carefully choosing your words. “I know it’s none of my business, but I think it would make him feel better if you spent more time with him.”

The sound of a distant train rumbles through the walls, amplifying the silence between you. Logan doesn’t utter a word; instead, he puts down his fork, the clinking noise making you jump slightly, the intensity of his stare becoming overwhelming.

“You’re right about one thing—what I do or don’t do is none of your goddamn business.”

Just like that, the buildup dissolves in a matter of seconds. You bite down on the inside of your cheek, nodding absentmindedly. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, feeling a wave of shame wash over you. How stupid were you to think he might want to talk to you? “I just—I want to be of help.”

“Just take care of Charles. That’s all you gotta worry about, all I’ve ever asked you to do,” he barks, clenching his jaw, and you can tell he means each word.

When he talks to you in this tone, it makes you think more rationally—it reminds you that you don’t really know him, and yet you agreed to work for him in exchange for a roof over your head and food on your plate. He’s not your friend, and he’s excellent at making that crystal clear every time you cross the line.

Logan pushes you away like you’re nothing, like you’re just another of the many burdens he has to deal with.

It should be enough to send you running to your room, but despite the knot tightening in your belly, you somehow remain rooted in place, your eyes sharp like daggers.

As another train echoes in the silence, you come to terms with the knowledge that one more question will drive him away.

And sometimes, you speak before you think, as you do now: “Whose blood is that on your shirt?” you ask, voice steady and cold. Perhaps it’s you who wants him to leave this time.

He shakes his head with offense, frustration crinkling his eyes. “I don’t need this shit,” he groans, his gruff voice loud enough for you to hear it. He gets up from the table, placing his plate in the sink without much delicacy. At last, he heads to his room, slamming the door with a deafening thud that reverberates through the entire place.

It’s not a crush, that voice deep inside you insists as you’re left alone in the kitchen. And it’s valid: a mere crush wouldn't cause this kind of pain, wouldn’t make your chest feel this heavy and your limbs numb.

Whenever he leaves, he takes a part of you with him, never to be returned. By now, you’re certain he’s stolen all those missing pieces from you, and you’ve got no idea how much longer you can endure before you shatter completely.

You seem to have won this battle, but what you end up losing is far greater than any fleeting gratification.

Loving Logan is maddening, to say the least.

To this day, you still recall every detail of the night that altered the course of your life—the night you met Logan.

The memories are rather vivid in your mind, and you revisit that moment on nights like these, when you can’t sleep and the past appears to be much more appealing than your present.

Pressing your cheek against the cold pillow, you let your eyelids drop, reconstructing the full scene behind your sealed eyes.

It was your third week working at that restaurant, and you were still getting used to its daily rhythm. Waitressing was working wonders for you—you had a good memory, and people often gave you generous tips.

Everything was going well: you were the only waitress on shift, and your boss had left for a brief errand, promising he would be back soon.

During this lull, a group of men entered the restaurant, already drunk or high—probably both. They sat at one of the empty tables, immediately calling for you.

One of them, a tall blonde, was the loudest. “Come here, baby.” He pointed his finger at you, gesturing for you to approach him. The nickname felt wrong rolling off his tongue, and as you obliged, he shoved a handful of bills into the front pocket of your apron. He clutched your waist, dragging you nearer. “I’m getting married tomorrow. Think you can do something special for me?”

His friends cheered him on, laughing and pounding their fists on the table. You managed to slip from his grasp and asked them what they wanted to order.

While they took their time deciding, you noticed a limousine parked in the distance, probably the vehicle that had brought these morons here. The driver rolled down his window, hanging his arm from the armrest.

Though you couldn’t see his features, the interaction alone was enough to make you look away.

An hour went by, and the men refused to take off. They’d eaten, drunk, and danced—and driven you crazy in the process. The rest of the customers had decided to leave once they realized the night was far from finishing for the noisy group of friends. You apologized, feeling incapable of doing anything to change the situation.

Your sanity felt threatened as you turned off the TV, ending the sixth round of karaoke, their shouts and hoots ringing in your ears.

“We’re closing in ten minutes,” you informed them, starting to collect their dirty plates and glasses. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the blonde man standing right beside you, his piercing blue eyes burning holes through your skin. He attempted to graze your shoulder, but you quickly stepped back, keeping a safe distance between you. “How do you plan to pay? Cash or credit?”

“How about with a kiss, huh?” He inched forward, his face dangerously close to yours. Unaccustomed to being approached in this manner, you ducked your head, unsure of your next move. His breath reeked of beer and vodka, a horrendous combination that had you nearly gagging on the spot.

As he backed you against the counter, one of his large hands cradled your face, urging you to make eye contact with him. “I swear I can be very, very nice. You haven’t given me the chance to show it yet.”

“Hey, pal. You said one hour.”

The first time you heard his voice—low and husky, the kind that could send shivers down your spine.

Your eyes locked with Logan’s, your pleading gaze seemingly stirring something in him as he got a grip on the situation. His brows bumped together in a scowl, and you didn’t miss how he limped as he made his way into the restaurant.

There was something about him—how he moved, his stance—that felt strangely familiar.

“We’re busy in here, chauffeur,” the blue-eyed man protested, slightly losing his balance while still holding your cheek.

Your rescuer squared off against him, their noses practically brushing. He worked his jaw, his half-lidded, tired eyes taking in the sight of you. “I’m no fortune-teller, but I don’t think she’s into you, bub.”

“Come again?” the blonde guy released you, much more concerned with defending his bruised pride. “What’s the matter, Grandpa? Is it past your bedtime?”

“I want you to pay me for the ride, and for waiting a fucking hour and a half for you and your friends,” the older man spat, jerking his thumb toward the limousine. “I’m not taking you back to the hotel. You might want to start looking’ for another driver.”

The group of men closed in around him, their anger bubbling. “That’s not cool, dude. We had a deal,” another voice snapped, but Logan couldn’t seem to care less.

“Well, the deal’s off. And leave the girl alone, will you?” he retorted, his tone dripping with disdain. “So, where’s my money?”

He couldn’t have predicted it. One of the men behind him swung a plate, striking him in the nape and catching him off guard. Logan collapsed to the floor, clutching his head in pain. The others took the opportunity and began to pummel him, kicks and punches landing wherever they could.

You screamed at the top of your lungs, desperately trying to intervene. You grabbed at their clothes, digging your fingernails into every patch of exposed skin you could find, but they shoved you aside with brutal force. Your back slammed against the nearest wall, a jolt of sudden pain making you wince.

The blood in your veins turned to ice as you watched, paralyzed with fear that they might kill him. But then—

Three metallic claws emerged from his knuckles, and he used them to push himself upright. Despite the blood smeared across his nose and mouth, he managed to stand, his quickened breathing coming out in short puffs.

The men backed away in shock, leaving him alone amidst the chaos.

You stared at him, your hands trembling as recognition dawned: it was The Wolverine.

The familiarity, the sense of having seen him before, all made sense now. It all flooded back in a rush—the comics, the news, the rumors.

“Get the hell outta my sight,” he growled, pressing his claws against the fabric of the blue-eyed man’s jacket, making him flinch.

You couldn’t make out what you were feeling. It wasn’t fear, but intrigue. Even as the group of men fled the restaurant, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. At first, he avoided your gaze, focusing on his shoes as he retracted his claws.

Once the immediate danger had passed, he slumped forward, groaning. You gently draped one of his arms around your shoulders and helped him into a nearby chair. His weight felt like a thousand bricks, but you accomplished to get him seated.

He rubbed a shaky hand over his graying beard, his face twisting in pain as you pressed a makeshift towel of napkins against his lower lip, where blood continued to flow.

Taking the towel from you, he continued tending to himself. You scanned his features, scrutinizing him.

“You are…” you began, the words feeling inadequate at the moment.

Logan nodded hesitantly, his silence confirming your suspicion. “Yeah, that’s me,” he tugged at his shirt collar, exposing some of his chest hair, fresh blood staining his work clothes. Your gaze fell there, and you quickly chided yourself.

The poor guy was bleeding, and you were checking him out. Jeez.

Kneeling by his side, you introduced yourself. “Thank you for stepping up for me,” you said afterward, and he shook his head dismissively. “They were a pain in the ass. I don’t know how you even managed to drive them here.”

“Money’s money, darlin’. Doesn’t matter where it comes from, as long as—” he was interrupted by a coughing fit, and your concern deepened as you continued to spot more of his injuries. “I’ll heal,” he reassured you, his expression softening in an attempt to calm your anxiety.

Your eyes pierced his with an intensity that seemed to unsettle him. Warmth crept into your cheeks as a question surfaced in your mind: “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“You don’t owe me anything, kid,” he replied, a hint of gruffness in his voice.

“But I could help you,” you persisted, your voice betraying a touch of eagerness. Stifling a cough, you tried to mask your enthusiasm, and sighed. “Are you hungry? I could cook you something, or pour you a drink. We’ve got plenty of liquor—”

Logan interrupted you, placing the towel down on the table. “Have you ever taken care of an old person?”

Tilting your head, you considered his question. “How old?”

“Ninety-somethin’.”

You nodded, memories of the events from years ago surfacing. “I lived with my grandparents for most of my life. When they fell ill, I spent a lot of time with them. My mom had to work long hours, and I—well, the point is, I did take care of them,” you paused for an instant, his expression unreadable, though you perceived a slight relaxation in his posture, as if your answer had put him at ease. “I like being around old people. They have stories to tell,” you added, a genuine smile breaking through, “and I’m a good listener.”

“Then I suppose there is somethin’ you can help me with.”

And so began a new chapter in your life.

The very next day, you were moving in with him and Charles. It took several weeks for the latter to warm up to you and get used to your presence.

Initially, he was hopeful that you might also be a mutant, but his disappointment was palpable when he discovered you lacked any supernatural gifts. Leaving that aside, he valued your company.

“The shots mellow the seizures. The pills keep them from happening,” Logan had once explained, detailing the medications Charles needed. You recalled the psychic attack from a year ago and its consequences, but that wasn’t a topic to be discussed with Logan, and you understood why.

“Where do you get these?” you asked, examining the bottle of pills with a curious glance. “Without a prescription, I mean.”

“Oh, you don’t wanna know.”

Soon, you got adapted to the whole package: his unpredictable temperament, his mood swings, and his nightmares. Logan Howlett was a puzzle box of surprises, one you could never quite unlock.

Fast forward to the present day, you realize it must be already late, because Logan’s heading to work. You stand on your tiptoes, peering out of your bedroom window. Your humid breath fogs the glass as his eyes find yours, and then he slips into the vehicle, blending into the shadows of the night.

The distant rumble of his limousine signals his departure, your forehead pressed against the glass, as if somehow that could take you with him.

There goes another piece of you.

You find yourself shaving Charles the moment worry takes over your senses.

He’s retelling a familiar story: that one time Logan, Scott, Jean, and Storm saved Rogue from Magneto.

On any other day, you wouldn’t mind listening to his stories, despite having heard them countless times. This one in particular is your favorite.

But today, it’s hard to focus on it, even more when one of its main characters is missing in action.

Logan hasn’t come back home yet.

It’s been an entire day, and he’s usually back by morning to rest. Now, after having cooked dinner and helping Charles shower, you’ve run out of distractions. There’s nothing left to occupy your thoughts, nothing to ease the building anxiety gnawing at you.

You texted him multiple times—no answer. You even called—also nothing. Every time Charles asks if Logan’s at work or sleeping, the knot in your chest tightens. That’s when your mind starts to spiral, and you’re convinced you’ll burst any moment.

After putting him to bed, you pace the kitchen, picking at your nails and biting the raw skin around them. The sting of pain is there, but it’s faint, not enough to overshadow the real fear clawing at your insides.

All these what-ifs that storm through your mind make you feel nauseous: what if he’s dead? What would you do with Charles? How would you provide for both of you without a salary?

Just as you’re about to dial his number again, Logan materializes out of thin air through the sliding door.

He’s got a dark bruise under his right eye, and his once-white shirt is littered with bloodstains. You stare at him—he’s limping harder than usual, each of his movements slower.

Walking towards him, your hands cup his face. His skin feels rough beneath your fingers, and he lets out a grunt as you graze his split lip. “What happened?”

“They were followin’ me. Had been doin’ so for a few days now,” he says, making no effort to pull away.

“Did you kill them?” you wonder out loud, still inspecting his injuries. The pad of your thumb hovers inches away from his bruised mouth.

Covering your hands with his, Logan ducks his head, closing his eyes for a brief second and swallowing thickly. “Somebody had to do it, sweetheart.”

You limit yourself to a nod, because you know there’s nothing you can reproach him for. You were no stranger to the idea of him killing. It was an implicit truth between you.

“I thought—I was so scared, and I—” your voice wavers, and you feel your eyes watering, the tears prickling at the corners. “I thought you—”

He doesn’t let you finish, already knowing how it would end. “Hey, look at me,” he’s the one touching you now, tilting your chin up. Your eyes keep flickering over the cuts and old scars you spot on his cheeks, his neck. Logan forces a pained smile, unable to hide his discomfort. “It’s fine, I’m alright. Just a bit fucked up, but nothin’ you haven’t seen before,” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood, and it works. You bite your lower lip, suppressing your grin. “I always come back, don’t I?”

“But you can barely stand,” you whisper, not sure why you’re speaking so softly. You make him turn his back to you, helping him shrug off his coat. As expected, remnants of dried blood decorate his shirt like highlights. “Let me help you.”

“I don’t—”

”There are cuts all over your back. And your chest—you’re not healing properly,” you say, turning him to face you again. The look on his face suggests only one thing: he’s about to throw in the towel. “You don’t have to do everything on your own.” You think you’ve never been this close before, his proximity both intoxicating and comforting at the same time. “Please.”

He ends up giving in to your persuasion, allowing you to guide him to the bathroom. Logan sits down on the toilet, watching you gather supplies to clean his wounds. When you come back, he’s still staring at you, his eyelashes fluttering together each time he blinks.

Starting with his cheek, you press a damp towel to his skin, and he hisses. It takes everything in you not to flinch in sympathy.

“How’s Charles?” he asks, probably trying to distract himself as you continue to clean his wounds, the towel darkening with his blood over time.

“He’s doing great. Asked for you a lot, actually,” you take a look at his jaw, where one shallow cut is already starting to fade away thanks to his healing ability, something that never fails to amaze you.

Logan hums, tilting his head. ”I’ll check on him in the morning,” he murmurs, and you flash him a quick smile, finishing with his face. He’s now free of dirt and blood, his brows furrowing as he pauses to collect his thoughts. “The other day, when we talked—”

You cut him off, turning to the sink as you rinse the towel, watching the water get red. “Forget it.”

“No, it wasn’t okay—how I acted,” he stands up from the toilet, and you feel his presence behind you, the alarm inside your head going off as the space between you shrinks. “I know you just want what’s best for him. For us. I’m sorry I was a jerk,” his voice comes out even huskier at this time of the night, sounding afraid of waking someone, even though it’s just the two of you here.

“Apology accepted,” you swirl around to meet his gaze, only to find yourself nose-to-nose with him, and you lean back against the sink, your spine pressed into the cool surface.

Logan places his hands on both sides of the vanity, caging you with his body. Like the most beautiful tree, he stands tall in front of you, and you take a deep breath, getting drunk on his distinctive scent. “Are you… okay?”

You watch as he lowers his head, pursing his lips before muttering: “Imma need you to do something more for me,” he says, almost pleading, and you can’t avoid the amount of thoughts that rush into your mind.

Gone was your decency when you had to deal with him.

That’s when he looks up to find your eyes, his harsh expression evolving into a more vulnerable one. “Have you ever removed a bullet?”

If you thought listening to Logan’s nightmares was painful, nothing could have prepared you for the sounds he makes while you pull several bullets from his wounds.

He sits shirtless in front of you, grunting at each of your careful movements. As you remove one bullet lodged near his ribs, Logan practically yells, and you rest your cheek against his, desperate to ease his suffering.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Almost done,” you whisper into his ear, hoping your words might bring him some relief. He lets his head fall forward, resting it on your shoulder, trusting you enough to tend to his injuries, his thoughts drifting elsewhere.

It takes you half an hour to clean both his chest and back, but Logan doesn’t complain. When you’re finished, he goes straight to his room, flopping onto his bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. You see the way his chest rises and falls rapidly, his breathing still labored.

You wish you could lie beside him, even just for a few minutes, but your last shred of self-control stops you from doing such a thing.

“Get some sleep,” you say leaning against the doorframe, your advice sounding more like a plea. He looks exhausted, dark circles sunken beneath his eyes.

Logan lets out a bitter laugh. “Do I look that bad?”

You roll your eyes at that, your fingers curling around the doorknob. Glancing back at him over your shoulder, you catch something in his look—a glimmer of something you struggle to put into words, but you decide not to look further into it. “Good night, Logan.”

“Good night, darlin’—and thank you,” he murmurs, holding your gaze until the door shuts between you.

Then you sprint to your room, gently closing the door before biting back a smile, replaying the last hour in your mind. How close to you he had been, how comfortable he seemed around you.

You hadn’t just crossed lines—you’d broken them. You almost pinch yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming.

Somehow, your racing mind calms down, and you fall asleep, one hand tucked beneath the pillow, the other resting against your chest.

You’re a light sleeper. The sound of something shattering wakes you, leaving you startled and disoriented.

Dawn is just breaking, the first rays of sunlight slipping through your window. You sit up, pricking up your ears as you scratch the back of your head, listening attentively.

Logan’s voice filters into your room—he lets out a string of profanities, and you stifle a giggle, throwing off your covers and putting on a sweatshirt that matches your pajamas.

Barefoot, you walk down the hall, stopping at the kitchen’s entrance. Logan is kneeling beside the table, gathering the shards of a broken mug. It seems like he’s just gotten out of the shower, tiny droplets of water trailing down his neck.

“That was my favorite one,” you say in a low voice, teasing him. His back muscles flex under the material of his shirt, and he turns to look at you, his expression a silent apology. “I take it you’re not using your glasses?”

“I’m gonna stop you right there.” Rising to his feet, he grunts, digging his fingers into his lower back with a grimace. “They’re called readers for a reason.”

You decide to let him have that one, grabbing a new mug from the shelf and handing it to him. He accepts it, thanking you, and fills it with freshly brewed coffee.

“Was it a nightmare?” you ask, watching as he sinks into the couch, spreading his thighs apart with a sigh while you take a seat at the table instead.

Logan gives a nod, sipping some of his coffee. “At least I slept for a few hours.”

“Are you really going to stay up? It’s pretty early.” You stretch your arms over your head, a yawn escaping you before you can hold it back.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

You hesitate for a moment, but then comes your question: “Can I join you?” You prop your elbows on your knees, any trace of sleepiness now gone with the wind.

He squints his eyes, his unrelenting stare boring into you. “Feel free.”

So here you are, studying him as he drinks his coffee, his fingers wrapped tightly around the ceramic. There are so many things you want to ask him—about how he’s feeling, if his wounds have healed—but it seems you’ve entered a silent staring contest without even knowing it.

Not that you mind him looking at you—you just want to know the reason why.

You snort, and he arches a brow. “Do I have something on my face?” You decide to ask him, straightening your back.

“I guess I can’t help but wonder why you agreed to all of this,” he says, setting the mug down with a soft clink. By this, you understand he’s referring to being Charles’ caregiver and leaving your old job behind. “I mean—you could be doing better things with your life. Why would you choose to do this?”

“I told you before: I wanted to help you,” you shrug, trying to keep your tone light even as your stomach tightens with nerves. You watch as Logan folds his arms, the muscles of his biceps becoming more visible. “Plus, I love being around Charles.

“I don’t think people your age would be that interested in spending their days like this,” he says, and you toy with a lock of your hair, wrapping it around your finger.

“Well, good thing I’m not like most people my age then.”

His silence hangs heavy in the air until he speaks again. “What do you mean by that?”

“You know that feeling when life seems like a race? And you just have to keep up with certain things that everybody else is doing, or you’ll be left behind?” You pause, the words falling more naturally than you’d expected.

Logan nods, making it seem like he understands what you’re trying to say. Whether he truly does it or not, you don’t know.

“When my friends started going to parties, getting boyfriends… I couldn’t. My family wouldn’t let me. And even when I could, it felt like it wasn’t really what I wanted.”

Inhaling sharply, you stop yourself. The conversation suddenly feels far too personal.

“You never had a boyfriend?” He gets more comfortable on the couch, his voice gruff as he rubs his chin, waiting for a reply.

A familiar heat settles between your legs. “I went out with some guys, but it never led to anything serious,” you say, your cheeks getting warmer the more details you share with him. “I guess I wasn’t the kind of girl they were looking for,” you add, not missing the way his lips twitch momentarily.

“How could they not want you?”

“They didn’t think like you do.”

“That’s because they were boys, not men,” he mutters, his gaze dropping to your hands before returning to your face. “Did they treat you right, those boys?”

Swallowing hard, you can hardly register the uncertainty in your own voice. “I mean… yes, I think they did. They were nice to me.”

There it is—the faintest hint of a smirk dancing on his lips. “Nice doesn’t mean good, though.”

You dig your nails onto the table, your pulse quickening, trying to hide how affected you are by his words. “What is it that you want to know?”

“Come sit with me, doll.”

Doll. Doll. Doll. Inside your chest, your heart gallops, your legs trembling as you get off the table, moving closer to him.

Feeling lighter with every step you take, you plop down beside him, and Logan sits straighter, his knees almost bumping into yours.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him—this is happening, just like in your filthiest dreams.

His hand slides up to yours, not applying any sort of pressure. He scrutinizes your skin, bringing your hand to his lips, and he presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist.

It tickles, it burns—it ignites a fire inside you, one you know you can’t ignore. A gasp attempts to escape you, but you suppress it.

“Did you let them touch you?” he whispers, attaching his mouth to your neck, brushing the sensitive spot where your jaw and ear meet.

This time, you moan, any possible rational thoughts turning into putty, melting with the way he’s touching you. “Logan,” you purr his name, begging for something, anything he’s willing to give you. Your thighs, once shoved together, spread of their own accord, and you hear him click his tongue.

“I asked you something.” His teeth graze your pulse point, forcing you to close your eyes.

“I didn’t. They wanted to, but I—I wouldn’t let them,” you answer, and as if he’s rewarding you, his fingers begin to tug on the hem of your sweatshirt, rolling it up your body and over your head. He tosses it to the floor, admiring you.

“Why?”

Goddamn.

“Because I was waiting for the right guy,” you manage to get out, grasping his hand and positioning it on top of your right breast, encouraging him to go on with what he had started. His pupils widen further, and he squeezes your tit roughly, eliciting a moan from you. “I think I’ve found him.”

Logan scans your face, searching for any sign of repentance in your expression. “I’m going to hell for this,” he murmurs under his breath, his hard-on noticeable through his tented sweatpants. “Lay down.” You obey his command, easing yourself onto the couch, and sinking into the cushions as he presses himself to your side.

He peppers your neck with kisses, playing with the waistband of your shorts. “I’m not gonna kiss you, but I’ll make you feel good. Just this time, ‘kay? And we don’t talk about it.”

You accept his offer, knowing that you’ll probably regret it in a couple of hours. Right now, it doesn’t matter. You need his electrifying touch, his fingers, his—

With a swift motion, your shorts are yanked down your legs, and his calloused hands part your thighs even wider. A damp spot on your underwear sells you out, and his thumb rubs gentle circles over that area, causing you to lift your hips.

“So this is what you look like when you touch yourself, huh?” He edges his fingers closer to your clit, his breath tickling your ear, and he dips his tongue into your collarbone. “I hear you all the fuckin’ time. You’re not as quiet as you think.”

It should embarrass you, the fact that he has listened to you pleasuring yourself. But in a moment like this, it only succeeds in fuelling your desire. “Please. You said you’d make me feel good.”

“And I will, but you’re greedy as hell,” he says, his movements more deliberate now. You feel hot all over as he pulls your panties to the side, exposing your glistening cunt.

Logan’s on the verge of drooling all over you, reaching for your folds and spreading your wetness. “Men aren’t strong creatures, honey. You’ve got no idea how hard it is to hold back.”

“D-don’t hold back,” you stutter, losing your composure when he returns to your clit, his fingers coated in your arousal while they flick your swollen bud. “Oh, Logan…”

“You make the prettiest sounds,” he rasps, mouthing at your jaw, though as you try to kiss him, he slows his pace. “What’s wrong? Am I not giving you enough?”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” you whisper, fascinated by how big his fingers look in comparison to your pussy. “I’m just—”

“Needy, I know,” he finishes for you, and he picks up his merciless rhythm again. Heat pools in your lower abdomen, and you can’t help but arch your back every time he teases you, grazing your entrance with his middle finger. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

You dig your nails into his arm, relishing the way his body responds to your touch. He grinds his cock against your hip, his teeth nipping at the column of your neck. “I want to come. Please, make me come,” you sob, letting out a shaky breath.

A thin sheen of sweat covers your forehead, and Logan locks eyes with you after what feels like an eternity. “Please, Lo.”

The nickname snaps something inside of him. His fingers circle your clit with a fervency you hadn’t experienced before, your pleasure seemingly being his primary focus. “The shit I’d do for you.”

You warn him, telling him you’re close—so so so close—until the fire in your belly flares, and blood rushes to your ears. You collapse against him, holding his hand firmly against your core, hips jerking as you ride your orgasm.

The world narrows down to this—this moment, your most desired fantasy.

Logan holds you as you go limp in his arms, rubbing your clit ever so slightly, murmuring soft praises. “Y’did so good, sweetheart,” he whispers, planting a kiss on your temple, burying his nose in your hair. You’re still out of breath, the pulsing between your parted legs persisting long after your release. “Told you you weren’t quiet.”

A giggle bubbles up from your chest, his beard tickling you as he slides his hands up under your shirt, finding your nipples.

“It was n-nice,” you tell him, your voice faltering the more he toys with your hardened peaks. Your skin heats up again, heart racing at the thought that he isn’t done with you yet.

“Just nice?” One of his hands makes its way back into your pussy, ghosting his fingers over your hole, and he smirks when he feels you squirm. “You surely know how to hurt a man’s pride.”

“I wasn’t—I didn’t mean to—” You can’t structure a proper sentence, not when he’s playing with you like this.

Logan rubs your arousal between his fingers, as though he wants you to see how slick you still are, even after coming. “Are you going to touch me again?”

He hums, feigning uncertainty. “What do you think, baby? Should I make you come with my fingers now?”

It’s like a switch flips in your mind. He knows exactly how to make you beg and which buttons to push, using that power to his advantage. “Yes, please. I want it,” you plead, intending to buck your hips into his touch, impatient for more.

“Do you fuck yourself with your fingers?”

“Sometimes, but I can never finish—Oh my God.” He slips one finger inside you, causing you to curse, your voice barely above a whisper. You clench around the intrusion, your head falling back onto the cushions. “Fuck me.”

“In a minute.” He begins to thrust his finger in and out, gathering your juices every time he goes back to hammering that sweet spot in your interior. Soon, one finger becomes two, and he reduces you to a panting mess.

Tears threaten to swell in your eyes, and you whine as he involves his other hand in the matter, furiously rubbing your clit. “Your fingers feel much better than m-mine, Lo.”

“I can tell.” He curls them just right, and you push back against his thrusts, tilting your pelvis to meet him halfway. “There you go. Take what you need, sweetheart. I’m right here, I’ve got you.”

Everything feels frenzied, fast, the way your inner walls spam and contract around his fingers as you chase your second climax.

Once you come down from your high, your blurred vision catches him tugging the waistband of his sweatpants down. His cock springs free, and he fists himself, stroking his length angrily.

You watch as some pre-cum dribbles from the head, and you lean forward, watching it closely.

“You look goddamn beautiful when you come, darlin’,” he murmurs through gritted teeth, his jaw clenched tight. Hovering over you, he rucks your shirt up until he can see your tits from above. He alternates between your breasts, squeezing them while he continues to stroke his girth. “Want to see these all dirty.”

Logan truly loses it when your hand reaches out to him, tracing a bulging vein near the head of his cock. You meet his lustful gaze, batting your lashes, and then you feel his come splashing against your bare chest, a choked moan escaping Logan’s throat, spurts of his hot seed landing on your skin.

“Fuckin’ hell… fuck,” he grunts, still tugging at his cock, enamored with the masterpiece he’s created. When it’s finally over, he lies beside you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You run your fingers through his hair, and he nuzzles further into your touch with a groan. “I’m too old for this.”

Minutes pass as both of you seem to grasp the gravity of what has just happened. Eventually, Logan rises to his feet, disappearing for a brief moment before coming back with a towel to wipe his come off your stomach and chest.

He’s gentle with you, his gaze trained on his task until his eyes flick up to meet yours.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, pulling your shorts back up.

“Like what?”

“Like you want to see right through me.” He adjusts your shirt to cover your body again, but the towel remains in his hand, a reminder of the previous events.

I’m not gonna kiss you, but I’ll make you feel good. Just this time, ‘kay? And we don’t talk about it.

You don’t have to talk about it. You definitely don’t.

Two days later, he’s the one who comes looking for you.

You’re nearly asleep when he knocks on your door. “Come in,” you mumble, a bit of drool having dampened your pillow. You dry your mouth with the back of your hand, your back turned to the door.

He steps into your room cautiously, as if navigating a minefield. The mattress dips under his weight. “Were you sleeping?” he asks, caressing your leg over the covers.

You shift onto your back, your body responding before your mind. There’s no blood on his clothes—that makes you feel a bit better, and you shake your head.

“Good.” He looms closer, fumbling with his belt. His thumb applies little pressure to your lower lip, and your mouth parts to let him in, salivating.

This is just like Pavlov’s dog experiment—except that Logan isn’t an experimenter, and you aren’t a dog.

Yet, when he approaches you like this, you can’t help but respond, settling into a routine where you both take take take from each other.

Logan doesn’t fuck you, even when you beg him to. He gets you off with his fingers, his thigh, his mouth—but his cock remains out of the equation.

“Just the tip,” you plead, voice laced with pure need, when he’s got his face nestled between your legs.

As he stops eating you out, his beard shiny with your arousal, he’s still got that angry look on his face. Your cries don’t get to him.

“That lie’s older than me.” He slips his fingers back inside you, aiming to make you drop the subject. “Come on, baby. Gotta get ready for work, but you need to come first.”

Nor does he stay the night after telling you you’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen in his life. Just when you think he’s fallen asleep, his legs intertwined with yours and one of his large hands under your head, you drift off.

By the time morning comes, he’s gone. You just know that when night falls, he’ll be back for more, drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

Despite all that, Logan won’t kiss you. He keeps his promise, and you hate how determined he is.

“Not even once?” you ask him one night while going over the scars on his back. You’re in his bed this time, and he has his nose buried in his pillow, moments away from dozing off.

“No,” he answers, squirming slightly under your touch. “I’m tired. Stop doing that.”

“How did you get this one?” You trace one scar that’s close to his shoulder, resting your chin just inches from it.

He turns his face to see your eyes. “Well, I was doing Pilates, and I—Hey!” He laughs when you pinch the skin near his ribs, tickling him. “I don’t even remember. Must’ve got it a long time ago.”

“Did it hurt?” It’s a dumb question, but he doesn’t mention it.

His index finger grazes your cheek, and he chuckles at the way your eyelids flutter. “In the past, they all did. But not anymore,” he replies, though you wish you could believe him.

You know he’s in pain most days. That when he goes down on you, and he’s on his knees for too long, he has trouble standing up without cursing. That no amount of alcohol, or his healing ability, helps him with it.

You kiss each of his scars before curling against his side, brushing your nose against his. “And now?” Your eyes fall to his lips, silently hoping he’ll say Yes.

Instead, he sighs. “I think we should go to sleep.”

So despite the lack of kisses, the miscommunication, and the fact that he won’t fuck you even though you know—you feel—he wants to, things are good between you.

Charles notices it, openly expressing his recent realization. “He looks happier, doesn’t he?” he asks says after winning two games of chess in a row, startling you.

“Logan, you mean?”

“Yes, my dear.”

You glance down at the board, fidgeting with the pieces. “I guess so.”

“You guess so?” he parrots your previous words, raising an eyebrow in doubt. “Look at me,” he says, and as you do it, he points a shaky finger toward your neck. “I assume mosquitos have taken a liking to you.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, your hand flying up to cover the hickey you had completely forgotten about in the first place. “Charles, I’m—“

“Are you happy?” he interrupts you, and you nod, because you are.

A nagging thought lingers at the back of your mind. You don’t know if you’re asking for too much, but it still feels like something’s missing.

One morning, you accidentally overhear a conversation between them. The door of the tank is ajar, and right before you step inside, you recognize Logan’s voice in the distance.

“Charles, I’m fine, alright? I don’t need your advice.”

There’s a pause before Charles responds. “You know, Logan… this is what life looks like. You should take a moment and feel it. You still have time.”

Logan doesn’t say anything in response to that. And if he does, you don’t stick around long enough find out, because you’re already turning on your heel.

A poet once said: “Blowjobs are fucking amazing.”

Actually, you might be wrong. Those may not have been a poet’s words, but your best friend Keira’s from high school.

You remember the sleepovers at her place—she had a boyfriend at the time, a boy she had met at a party you hadn’t been invited to.

“Welcome to blowjobs 101,” she had declared one night, holding a hairbrush like a microphone. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll tell you everything you need to know when the moment comes.”

Luckily, many years later, that moment arrived.

Just ten minutes ago, you were cooking dinner, sniffling back tears while chopping onions, so lost in thought that you didn’t realize Logan was already home.

He tossed his keys onto the table, hugging you from behind seconds later. You leaned back against his chest, enjoying the scratch of his beard against your sensitive skin, his lips planting soft kisses wherever they could.

“How was work?” you dropped the knife, wiping your tears as you turned to face him, throwing your arms around his neck. Logan pulled you in tighter by the waist, giving your ass a firm squeeze.

“Hell, as usual,” he looked into your eyes, finding them all glossy. “You miss me so much you started crying?”

Of course, you didn’t talk about it—but words aren’t the only ones who can convey meaning.

You’re not sure how, but one thing led to another, and now you’re on your knees, Logan’s cock filling your mouth. Your lips, swollen and red, suck hard at his tip, pulling the foreskin back, and his hips jerk deeper into your throat. “That’s it, fuck. Doin’ so good.”

Your movements are far from graceful. As a matter of fact, it’s all too sloppy and desperate. Saliva drips down your chin, some of it coating his balls, and you fondle them at the same time you bob your head.

Keira’s advice plays on repeat in your mind, and you pull out every trick you know to make Logan roll his eyes.

So far, you think you’re doing pretty great, judging by the way he’s gripping the back of your head.

“H-how is this your first time suckin’ cock?” he slurs, more to himself, his voice strangled as you make eye contact with him. He brushes your hair out of your face, bewitched by the sight of him disappearing into your wet mouth. “God, I fuckin’ love you.”

Taken aback by his sudden confession. you involuntarily gag around him. He pulls you off his cock, not even sparing you a glance, tucking himself back into his briefs. “Wait, Logan—”

“Not now,” he mutters abruptly, withdrawing into his bedroom and shutting the door behind him.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

But still, he doesn’t want to talk about it.

How bad is it to tell somebody you love them and then avoid them?

Yeah, it’s absolutely terrible, right? Tell that to the idiot himself—Logan Howlett.

It’s been over a week, and no matter how many times you press him for an explanation, he keeps dodging it.

Things go back to how they were before you two started fooling around, and Charles’ questions don’t take long to come: “I thought you two were getting somewhere.”

“Me too,” you admit, your voice quieter as you try to appear indifferent.

You have no answer for him. Not that you don’t want to discuss your relationship problems—it’s just that you don’t know what went wrong.

When evading you isn’t enough, he works longer hours, which only adds to how little you see him. At least he lets you know if he’s going to be late, sparing you from waiting up.

But apart from that, your interactions have dwindled to nothing, and it’s eating you alive.

You’re madly in love with him. You thought you knew that already, but now that he’s distant, the depth of your feelings has become clearer than ever.

He’s everywhere you go, just not physically—he has conquered your mind.

And it should be funny, loving someone who used to be no more than a myth for you. Though Logan is real—maybe too real for your own good—and he hasn’t been the mutant you once read about for quite some time.

This morning, he’s having breakfast at the table when you walk into the kitchen. You hold your breath as your shoulders brush for a microsecond, his gaze following your steps.

You’re no longer accustomed to sharing the same space with him, so it makes sense that you stay as far away as possible.

After an awkward silence, he stands up and mutters something about checking on Charles and giving him his meds, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

It’s infuriating, how collected he seems. Why isn’t he miserable like you? Doesn’t he miss you? Didn’t you two have something… special?

I’m not gonna kiss you, but I’ll make you feel good. Just this time, ‘kay? And we don’t talk about it.

The shit I’d for you.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

Not now.

The memory of his words lingers, seared into your unconscious, though the sound of his phone jolts you out of your thoughts.

It’s ringing beside the coffee machine, and you try to ignore it, determined to be the bigger person.

But after five minutes of the relentless ringtone echoing in the empty kitchen, you’ve had enough.

Unknown caller—interesting. What could he possibly be hiding?

Charles, you better keep that asshole busy, you think to yourself, swiping right to answer the call.

Before you can say anything, a woman’s voice fills the line.

“James! Thank God. It’s Gillian. You didn’t reply to any of my texts, and I was starting to get worried,” she lets out a giggle, the sound grating against your nerves.

As your grip on the phone tightens, your knuckles start to go white.

“Look, I know you said you weren’t available, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that ride. I didn’t see any ring on your finger, so what do you say, huh? Will you let me take you out?”

Red. You’re seeing red.

“James? Hello? Cat got your tongue?”

At last, you clear your throat. “Hey,” you greet her, pacing around the kitchen. “I’m deeply sorry, but James can’t talk right now.”

“Excuse me?” she snaps, her high-pitched voice echoing through the speakers, and you pull the device away from your ear. “This is James’ number. Who the fuck are you?”

“Oh, I’ll tell you who the fuck I am, you intolerant piece of—”

Before you can finish, the phone is yanked out of your hand, the call hastily ending.

There is no use in playing dumb, not when Logan’s standing right in front of you, observing you like you’re a child who’s made a severe mistake.

His deep, brown eyes pierce your soul, shattering any chance you had of coming up with an excuse.

“What where you doing with my phone?” It’s the first thing he asks you, his voice still steady, the calm before the storm.

Perhaps you’re not as mature as you thought you were—your forehead furrows, unwilling to back down, and you fall silent. He takes a step forward, as if he can’t believe your attitude. “Think I asked you somethin’. Why did you answer?”

“Gillian sounds like a lovely lady. Tell her I said ‘Hi’ the next time you see her,” you croak, attempting to walk past him, but he doesn’t budge, his solid frame blocking your path. You collide with his chest, and it feels like trying to move a brick wall without success.

“We’re talking. You can’t just leave.”

The nerve of this man.

“You can’t be serious,” you retort, staring at him, wishing the emotion in your tone could capture even a fraction of what you’re truly feeling. “Weren’t you the one who walked away first? After telling me you loved me?”

You search for any sign of the man who once held you close, but he feels miles away, hidden under all these layers that smell like cheap whiskey and gasoline. “You didn’t mean it.”

“I did. I meant every word,” he growls, his fists clenching at his sides, and you don’t miss the exhaustion in his eyes, the dark circles that expose the fragile façade of control he’s so desperate to maintain. “Goddamit! You’re doing that thing again!”

“What thing?” you exclaim, your mouth hanging open in frustration. “What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes, you are! You’re trying to see through me, like you can read my mind.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint, but I’m not a fucking mutant. I just have eyes, Logan.” You throw your arms up, exasperated. “People actually look at each other when they have a conversation, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“You’re testing my patience,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face.

“And you are testing mine.” You rest your back against the table, raising your chin. “So, who is she?”

Logan drops his shoulders, slamming his eyes shut. “I drove her once, last week. It was a long ride and she… wouldn’t stop talking. Didn’t shut up for a single second. She hit on me, but I told her I’m off the market.”

“Why? ‘Cause she talked too much?”

“No. Because I love you,” he says, pure awe transforming his expression, like he doesn’t believe he has said it out loud. “I don’t know when I started feeling like this, or if I’ve always felt it, but—I do. I love you.”

Oh.

You had heard those words slip through his lips before, but now they sound different. It might be that keeping him at arm's length has felt like death by a thousand cuts, or perhaps it’s the realization that this is the first time someone’s declaring their love for you.

Fuck. He loves you. As in, he’s in love with you?

“Then why do you keep running?” You edge closer to him, your eyes trained on his. “I’m done with the chase, Logan. It’s tiring—I am tired. I’ve been sleeping like shit, trying to figure out what—”

His arms surround your body, cutting you off and pulling you close. The hammering of his heart matches yours, and you return the hug, nuzzling your nose against his neck.

You fear that this might be all you’ve ever needed, feeling as if the pieces he took from you in the past are finally falling back into place.

Logan holds you as if in a past life he lost you, but now, he’s decided to never let you go.

This profound sense of completeness, of being where you’re meant to be, makes you realize you’ve found home in the warmth of his embrace.

“I’m sorry. This… this scares me, alright?” he murmurs next to your ear, raking his fingers through your hair. “You make me feel things I didn’t think I could feel anymore. That’s what I’m running from—the part of me I thought was gone. But you… you brought it back.”

You feel a deep urge to curl up and cry, wondering why on earth he would ever think he was unworthy of being cared for. “Logan, I…”

“I sound pathetic, I know. It sounded way better in my head.”

“Don’t you dare say that.” You retreat a bit, looking him in the eye. He stares down at you with a tenderness you’ve never seen before. “It’s not pathetic to voice how you feel. I want to know it all, want to know everything about you.”

“Everything?”

“Yes, everything. But I need you to promise me that you won’t run away anymore. I know it’s difficult, but it’s not fair to any of us.”

His eyes peer directly into yours, and he gives a nod. “I promise to do my best.” He presses your foreheads together, and that’s when his mouth turns into a grin. “You’re not going to say it back?” he teases, gripping your waist. “Come on, I said it first. Twice, for the record.”

Lifting your shoulders in a half-shrug, you find it hard to conceal your smile. “I may need a bit more convincing.”

Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.

Before you know it, his lips are on yours, almost making you lose your balance. You whimper into his mouth, tightening your arms around his neck as his tongue wastes no time in finding yours, stroking it sensually.

The wait had been definitely worth it—you’d do everything all over again if it meant having him kiss you like this at the end of the day.

He tilts your face so that he can deepen the kiss, and a whine gets caught in your throat when his fingers pull gently at the hair at your nape, nibbling at your bottom lip.

“I love you, too. Very much, to be honest,” you blurt out against his mouth, pleased with the way he laughs at your reaction, squeezing your hips. “But I still have some ideas in mind.”

“I’m all ears.”

Here goes nothing. “Fuck me like I’ve been asking you to.” You cup his cheek, guiding his lips into yours one more time. “Please,” you mewl, standing on your tiptoes. “Want you to be my first.”

If it were up to you, you would’ve begged him to take you right there on the kitchen floor. But Logan, ever the gentleman, insists on moving things to his room.

Each of his movements is slow, igniting your skin with a burning heat, leaving his name imprinted where his teeth sink into your soft flesh.

You’re left in nothing but your underwear by the time he murmurs: “Let me take my time with you.” He trails his lips down your chest, your stomach, until he’s planting several kisses along your ankle. “I don’t know how I got so lucky, baby. Look at you.”

Under his gaze, you feel shy, your eyes snapping to the ceiling instead. “Shut up,” you say, tugging at his shirt to undress him, your fingers tracing the lines of his abdomen before you pull him into a bruising kiss, sucking on his tongue.

He strips out of his black slacks and hovers over you, his clothed cock grinding against your throbbing core, eliciting a moan from both of you. “So goddamn beautiful. Can’t believe you’re mine.” His tip grazes your entrance through the fabric, making your toes curl in ectasy. “I’m gonna make you feel good, I swear.”

At first, he’s extremely careful, making sure to stretch you out with his fingers while you stroke him, pumping your fist to match his rhythm. “Keep that up and this’ll be over sooner than expected,” he warns, taking one of your nipples into his mouth.

It doesn’t happen like it does in the books or movies. No foreplay could’ve prepared you for the moment he enters you.

You move clumsily beneath him, your nose bumping into his forehead as he eases the first inch of his length inside.

For a moment, you’re not certain which hurts most: the dull ache in your nose or the way he’s splitting you open.

Logan freezes, his eyes wide in concern. “Shit. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Are you okay?” His hand cradles your face as he props himself up on one forearm, pushing your hair back while you adjust to his size. You laugh despite the sting, and he wipes away your tears with his thumb. “You’re laughin’?”

“I’m just happy,” you manage to get through the lump in your throat, raking your nails down his back, feeling the rough texture of the scars beneath your fingers. “I love you. Since that day at the bar, I—” you pause for a second, gasping at the sudden wave of pleasure when he twitches inside you. “I’ll always l-love you. Forever.”

As you wrap your legs around his waist and tell him you’re ready, something inside him shifts.

He feels like a madman, his eyes fixed on your face the whole time, searching for any hint of discomfort, though he occasionally glances down at the place where your bodies meet and become one, entranced by the sight of you taking him in, slick coating his length.

Your heels dig into his lower back, pulling him back to the present—back to you, with your pretty tits bouncing each time he pistols his hips, the intensity of his thrusts increasing.

“All those times you took care of me, when you—Fuck,” he groans, nipping at your jaw to regain some of his composure, his humid breath dampening your skin. Your scent drives him wild, and he reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “You made me feel loved when no one else did. My girl, love you so f-fucking much.”

His pace is nothing more than a voiceless testament to everything he feels but can’t find words to express.

With each minute that passes, your dripping cunt grips him tighter and tighter, his thrusts losing finesse. He needs you to come first—why does he feel like a virgin?

When you tell him you’re close, the world around him turns into a musical. You cling to the sheets, the mattress creaking noisily as he clutches the headboard, determined to find that angle that will push you over the edge.

“That’s it, sing for me,” Logan mutters from above, hypnotized by the crease forming between your brows. “Come on, let go.”

Time seems to slow down as your muscles tense and you clamp around him, your body sagging against him. His name spills from your lips in breathy whimpers, like an endless prayer, and your mouth engulfs his, tongues and teeth clashing in a fevered kiss.

Soon after that, he surrenders to the coiling tension deep within him, pulling out just in time to stroke himself once, twice, before emptying his hot load across your mound.

You gently thumb the head of his cock, coaxing out every last drop of his hot seed. He’s panting as he comes down from his high, his brain foggy and blissfully blank for a while.

Logan loses track of how many times he tells you he loves you—he does it when he pulls you into his chest, when his lips press against your temple, and when you crack that smile, the one that resembles the very purpose of his existence.

“So this is what it feels like.” His voice sounds low like a murmur near your ear, and you stir, half-asleep.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, baby. Just thinkin’ aloud.”

You don’t have to talk about it, at least not now. Deep down, he knows that whatever thoughts run through his mind will somehow find their way into yours.

This is what life looks like. You should take a moment and feel it. You still have time.

And God, is he feeling it.

dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

7K notes · View notes

jjunieworld · 8 days ago

Text

EASY ACCESS ˒˒ 이희승

after a whole year together, heeseung suddenly breaks up with you, to your surprise. mere days later, you see him at a party with another girl. you decide to do the only thing you could think of—get back at him. except… it doesn’t go quite to plan.

pairing ⸝⸝ lee heeseung 𝑥 fem!reader feat. ꔛ 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥!𝘫𝘢𝘬𝘦

genre ⋆ 📄 ⸝⸝ exes to ???, smut with a tiny bit of plot, some angst because i can’t control myself i’m sorry

warnings ⸝⸝ unprotected sex, hard dom!heeseung, jealousy, possessiveness, mirror sex, bathroom sex, very very messy and rough sex (he loves it messy), multiple orgasms, ruined makeup, fingering, clit stimulation, slight dacryphilia, hands on neck (not quite choking), overstimulation, creampie, hair pulling (f. rec), backshots, brief blowjob / deepthroating, manhandling, dirty talk

kipo’s note ⸝⸝ once again pushing the wc for my drabbles lmao.. haven’t wrote exes getting together again in such a long time, so here you all go, served up to you on a silver platter!! sorry for all the rough sex lately, i’m such a hard/mean dom girlie… hehe enjoy!! ^^

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ❨ 2.8k ❩ ╱ ❨ 𝓶.list ❩ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ︵͡ 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (⌒‿⌒)♡

you didn’t even need to feel his burning gaze following your every move to know that his eyes were on you—and only you. it was what you had hoped for, and everything was going to plan.

to be honest, you weren’t listening to a word that jake was saying. you were too busy looking at heeseung from your peripheral vision, seeing the anger build up in him brick by brick until you practically saw steam coming out of his ears.

you subtly watched as he glared at jake, glared at how close you were to him, and glared at how you smiled at whatever he was saying. you felt as his eyes trailed your body and the dress that you were wearing that was so short that your ass was almost hanging out and that barely covered your tits.

you were laying it on thick, but you didn’t think either boy knew it. jake told you a joke you didn’t care to listen to and you laughed flirtatiously, laying your hand on his bicep as you leaned into him. “you’re so funny,” you smiled, batting your eyelashes at him.

bullseye. you saw heeseung down his drink and push away from the wall he was leaning on, completely abandoning the girl he had brought with him to the party just mere days after the two of you had broken up. a whole year together completely forgotten, just like that.

well, two can play at that game.

you pretended not to notice him coming up to you. you acted shocked at the way his arm possessively wrapped around your waist and pulled you into him. inside, you were laughing at how heeseung had barely contained the anger radiating off of him. “i think she’s had too much to drink,” was all he said, looking—or more like glaring—at jake instead of you. you didn’t even get to protest since heeseung was already dragging you away.

he pulled you into a less crowded hallway and you pushed him off of you. “you don’t get to do that—not anymore,” you exclaimed. you haven’t even had anything to drink tonight. there wasn’t even a cup in your hand.

heeseung didn’t get to act like the jealous boyfriend when he was the one who broke up with you. you just wanted him to get a taste of his own medicine. see how much he likes it when you’re all up on a guy days after your breakup.

“i can do whatever i want,” heeseung said matter-of-factly. he dragged you into the nearby bathroom and slammed the door behind you, locking it. “because whether you like it or not, you’re still mine.”

his words went straight to your core and you leaned backwards against the cold marble of the sink, trying to subtly press your thighs together. heeseung’s eyes trailed your body again—focusing particularly on the way the dress you wore adhered to your body—like a hunter watching its prey.

heeseung’s eyes snapped abruptly to yours and you watched the corner of his mouth curve into a smirk. “besides,” he said, stepping towards you and caging you against the sink with his body, “i don’t remember you telling me to stop.”

his finger hooked under the thin strap of your dress and slowly started to pull it down your shoulder. he leaned down and his breath fanned against your jaw. “just like you aren’t stopping me now,” he continued. “this is what you really wanted, wasn’t it? were you that desperate for my touch after i dumped you that you resorted to making me jealous? you know i don’t play nice.”

you inhaled sharply, words caught in your throat. instead, you pushed him away from you again and heeseung stumbled backwards a few steps with a laugh. “you forget that i know you like the back of my hand,” he said.

glaring at him, you crossed your arms over your chest and the action only made your tits spill out of your dress more. “you don’t know anything!” you spewed.

in one swift motion you were pulled towards him and spun around so your ass was pressed against the bulge in his pants. heeseung held you flush against him, his lips at the shell of your ear. you let out a small whimper and he chuckled. “i know that all this was purposeful,” heeseung started. “like this dress you wore… you’re practically begging me to fuck you.”

his hand slid down to your lower stomach, pressing down onto it so you felt just how hard he was through the material of your dress. you breathed heavily as you fought the thoughts of his hand sliding down farther, of him touching you where you really needed him. you were dripping at the idea and your pussy throbbed.

“i bet if i move my hand down further…” his hand trailed downwards, just barely hovering at the bottom of your dress, “…we could both see how wet you really are. so needy… are you even wearing anything underneath?”

instead of checking for himself, he trailed his hand back up your body and cupped your tit. you swallowed the whine that tried to escape your mouth and heeseung’s rich laugh filled your ears. “i know that you know i don’t like being jealous,” he spoke as he pressed a kiss to your neck.

your eyes met his through the mirror in front of you and you looked at how pathetic you looked. your chest rose and fell heavily and if weren’t for the way the two of you were standing your thighs would be squeezed together too. heeseung was barely doing anything to you and you were already falling apart. you didn’t even have to say anything for him to know that he was right.

with one hand, heeseung took hold of your chin so your gaze stayed focused on the two of you in the mirror. he made you watch as he trailed his hand down your stomach, his touch lighting up your body and making you breathe harder. he leaned towards the shell of your ear, a smirk on his lips. in a low voice, he said, “you know i don’t like people playing with what’s mine.”

heeseung grabbed the bottom hem of your dress and yanked it up to reveal the tiny thong you wore underneath. he then yanked down the straps of the dress so your tits sprang free of it. finally, his hand cupped your heat, the tips of his fingers grazing along your clothed clit and making you jerk as he pressed his hard-on further into your ass.

he hummed as he lightly rubbed his fingers against the soaked fabric, his eyes still on yours. “what was that about me not knowing anything?” he asked smugly as his free hand squeezed one of your tits.

you couldn’t help the way your hips grinded against his hand and your eyes fluttered closed at the sudden pleasure. “what did you expect me to do?” you asked. your words lacked the punch you intended them to have and instead came out breathless and a bit defeated. “a whole year together and then you leave out of nowhere. now i see you all over some girl days after you left me like i didn’t matter to you. who does that?”

heeseung’s pulled his hand away so he could instead slip it under the thong you were wearing, his fingers spreading your arousal through your folds. you gasped softly, your back arching and your ass pressing more into him. “why lead me on for that long if you didn’t want me?” you continued through a small moan.

“when did i say i didn’t want you?” heeseung retorted. “that you didn’t matter to me?” slowly, he pushed his fingers into you and you moaned louder, grateful that the loud music on the other side of the door drowned it out.

your eyes fluttered open, your mind barely able to form a coherent thought as he started to finger you. you watched as his hand moved underneath your thong and barely covered his actions. you met his gaze through the mirror once more. it was embarrassing that you were so wet that you could hear the sounds his fingers made as he sped up his pace over the muffled music. the loud moans that left your mouth were even more embarrassing.

“why leave then?” you managed to ask him.

“i like the hunt,” heeseung said as if it was the simplest thing in the world. his long fingers reached deeper into you and pressed against your sweet spot, making you gasp loudly. your wetness dripped down your thighs and your moans got louder as you tried to move away from him. heeseung’s hand moved to just below your neck as he kept you against him—a warning.

all you could manage was shallow breaths as his fingers rammed into you. you stood up on your tip-toes as your knees began to wobble. you were so close to the edge that you mind was clouded and you could barely remember the words he said, only the hurt that followed after. that was, until heeseung spoke again, his eyes boring into yours. “and you were starting to bore me.”

tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, both from pain and pleasure. you came undone on his fingers, covering them in a creamy white that left lewd sounds in its wake as heeseung’s hand continued to move. you brows knitted together as the tears fell down your cheeks. “b-bullshit,” you moaned out.

heeseung might’ve known you like the back of his hand but you knew him like the back of yours. he was lying. if he meant what he said then he wouldn’t be in this bathroom with you, his hand covered in your release and his fingers inside of you knowing exactly what to do. he wouldn’t even let his jealousy get to him—or even be jealous at all.

“you're lying.”

heeseung pulled his fingers out of you and pushed you against the sink. he moved the two of you closer to the mirror so that you were almost face to face in a way. saying nothing, he stared intently into your eyes through your reflection before leaning down and turning your chin so you faced him.

now that you were actually face to face, your breath hitched in your throat. his lips hovered just over yours, barely an inch apart. “i didn’t know how to express how i felt…” heeseung said, “so i didn’t say anything at all. i left.”

he closed the distance between the two of you in a rough and sloppy kiss. distantly, you heard the zipper of his pants and the sound of denim. he yanked the thong you were wearing to the side, just enough for him to have easy access to your already messy pussy.

you gripped tightly onto the marble counter of the sink as heeseung pushed his thick cock inside you, stretching you more than his fingers ever could. you moaned against his lips. you missed the feeling of him inside you, of how full you felt as his long cock went deeper and deeper. heeseung didn’t waste any more time as he roughly thrusted into you, pushing your body further into the sink and towards the mirror.

“and you already told me you loved me.” heeseung pulled his lips off of yours and grabbed your chin. he faced you towards the mirror, the two do you almost cheek to cheek as he made you watch him fuck into you roughly at a fast pace. you felt your previous release drip down your thighs and your tits bounced at the vigorous pace. heeseung looked at you through the mirror, “…you deserve better.”

heeseung moved away from you and grabbed your hips with his hands. you watched as his hips rutted into yours and skin loudly slapped against skin repeatedly. you could barely think, much less move with the way he was fucking you. it was as if all of that anger and jealousy from earlier flooded through him, only this time more towards himself, and he was taking it all out on your needy and waiting pussy.

you were a moaning mess, mouth agape and drool almost spilling from the corners as heeseung fucked you stupid. you fought to process his words, realizing too late that he was telling you all of this with his cock inside you to distract you.

he was hoping that if he left you ruined enough that you wouldn’t think twice about his words, that you would instead focus on your trembling legs and white knuckles as your hands cramped from how hard you gripped the edge of the marble counter. it almost worked in his favor.

“i w-want you,” you stated, head lolling to the side before falling down to the counter completely. “f-fuck!” you whimpered, your voice muffled. you were so close to cumming again and you didn’t know how much more you could take.

“look at me,” you heard heeseung say and when you didn’t immediately obey he roughly pulled your head up by your hair and then towards him so your back was against his chest. you whined in protest that was quickly smothered by another one of your moans as his fingers suddenly dipped down to circle your clit.

heeseung was breathing heavily and he grunted at the way you were clenching down around him. shallow moans left your lips as he thrusted into you and it wasn’t long before you were cumming again. it dripped down your thighs and left you a sticky mess. more of your release dripped down heeseung’s cock and left a white ring at the base. if it weren’t for heeseung pressing you against him you would’ve fell to the tile below.

“can’t t-take anymore!” you cried with furrowed brows as you met his gaze in the mirror. the bathroom was filled with the sounds of your skin slapped against his and the wet sounds of your messy cunt. “t-too much!”

your body shook and heeseung just shushed you. “the things i touch, i ruin.” he placed a soft kiss onto your jaw, completely contrasting his other movements. “just look at you,” he stated.

he released his hold on you and you tumbled back down to the counter. heeseung groaned as he gave you a particularly harsh thrust. tears streamed down your face from the overstimulation, ruining the makeup you spent so long on, but a part of you also didn’t want him to stop any time soon.

his warm cum filled you up impossibly more, spilling out of you and mixing with your own cum down your thighs. you forgot how messy heeseung likes you to be once he’s finished with you. ruined, like he said.

heeseung stayed deep inside you and you managed to lift your head to look at him through the mirror. his hand wrapped lightly against your throat for a moment before sliding up your neck and lifting your head higher. he gave you an almost satisfied smile. “i love how messy you are when i’m done with you,” he said as he pulled out of you and his cum went rushing down your thighs. “and always so fucking needy for more too… like you can’t ever get enough no matter how much i give you.”

shifting away slightly, he leaned down and spread apart your asscheeks so he could get a better look at his work. “i-i like being ruined by you,” you sniffled as you breathed heavily, words coming out almost strained. “i like that no matter how undone i become, there’s still more threads you can pull. pull them.”

heeseung’s eyes flicked to yours. “it’s not worth it. you’ll only get hurt in the end.”

you turned towards him, “you won’t hurt me.” you wiped the tears and streaked mascara from your cheeks with the back of your hand. heeseung was closer than you thought he was as he leaned over you. he leaned back and pushed you down to your knees.

he looked down at you through hooded lids. “you deserve better,” he reiterated. you grabbed his hard cock and licked a stripe up it before sucking lightly at his mushroom tip. he moaned, his hands coming to rest at the back of your head.

“that’s what you think,” you replied. “doesn’t mean it’s true.”

heeseung sighed deeply. he then pushed your head fully down his length, causing you to gag around him. you looked up at him with teary eyes and spit spilling from the corner of your mouth. “you talk too fucking much,” heeseung said.

you then smiled, fisting his cock and watching as his eyes fluttered shut. “then make me shut up,” you responded. an amused smile lifted heeseung’s lips and his eyes opened to look at you.

he gave you no time to say anything else before his cock was down your throat again. heeseung grabbed a fistful of your hair. “suck,” he demanded instead, and you obeyed.

∿ [ continue on to . . . masterlist , taglist , request ] ︵͡ 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (⌒‿⌒)♡

🏷️﹙ want to be added to my permanent taglist? click here ﹚ @jjunberry @gothgyuu @gyuuberries @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka @dani-is-tired @riaawr @nxzz-skz @jakeswifez @ghstzzn @jenn-ieverse @rapmonie2047 @aaa-sia @won4me @skaterhoon @usnve @jeonghaniehaee @todorokiskitten @xylatox @lovzwoni @minaateez @onlyhyunjin @lilyuwon @aduh0308 @chaconadine @who-tf-soddhi @americanojake @missychief1404 @in-somnias-world @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @riribelle

2K notes · View notes

lubdubology · 1 month ago

Text

When Things Turn Green Again

SYNOPSIS: Hoping to mend the pain of your broken heart and bury the memory of your failed marriage, you turn towards the woods. A cabin was left in your name and it’s the exact distraction you were looking for. What you didn’t anticipate is meeting a quiet, ruggedly handsome man along the way who helps you heal.

PAIRING: Logan x fem!reader

WC: 11k

WARNINGS: smut 18+; mdni; angst; mentions of cheating/divorce; emotional trauma; fluff; sexual innuendos; brief mentions of drinking; dirty talk; slight dom!Logan; oral (f receiving); fingering; doggy style; cock warming; sex with feelings; unprotected p in v

A/N: I pictured either Origins!Logan or Wolverine!Logan, but I think you can envision any Logan you’d prefer. And again thanks to @joelsgoldrush for the support through writing this ❤️ I really do love this piece I wrote and I hope you do too. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated! And thank you to everyone who has read, commented, liked and reblogged both Soft Edges and Til The Sun Turns Black—I never imagined either of those stories reaching over 1k notes.

The gravel crunches under your tires as you roll down the long driveway. Memories bloom deep in your chest as you near the cabin, of times simpler than this, unburdened by trappings of real life. You spent your formative years out here in the woods with your grandfather. Summers spent learning how to fish on the lake; how to recognize the poisonous berries from the nonpoisonous ones; and making fires, roasting marshmallows long after the sun had gone down.

Your grandfather had helped build this cabin. He’d always preferred the outdoors and solitude from people—with the obvious exception of your grandmother and mother—and he’d often come here to escape. Especially after he lost them both.

The cabin comes into view through the trees just starting to unfurl their spring foliage. Patches of snow still dot the landscape but the wet brown of winter is losing to spring’s verdant hues. The structure has seen better days, last having been lived in over ten years ago.

A stab of regret pierces your chest. The cabin was willed to you when your grandfather died, but this was your first trip up here since the funeral. You planned to, of course, but as the old saying goes, life happened. Now, you’re hoping the old place can give you something to sink your energy into besides thinking about your failed marriage.

You park the truck and step out, surveying the property. The shrubs and flower beds are overgrown and choked with old growth and weeds. Years worth of leaves rest upon the roof and clog the gutters. The front porch has several loose or missing spindles and you’re almost afraid to step up onto the old boards. Proving yourself right, the wood groans and creaks beneath your feet, certain spots threatening to give way.

“That’s going to be a fun project,” you mutter to yourself.

Opening the front door, you’re met with the damp mustiness of a long closed up space. A layer of dust seems to coat nearly every surface and cobwebs linger in the corners. You’re hoping the repairs needed inside the cabin are more cosmetic than costly.

You open up the old blinds, letting the early morning light filter in the room. It’s not a large space, an open kitchen, living room and dinning area with separate bedroom and attached bathroom. A small set of steps leads up to a loft, which also doubles as a sleeping space or bonus area.

You unload your belongings from the truck, tucking them away inside the bedroom, before opening all the windows to let in the fresh air. Thankfully, the glass and protective screens are in relatively good repair—a few need replacing, but an easy enough job. You feel a sense of purpose flourish within you, something you haven’t felt for months and you wonder if this is just the reprieve you need to find yourself again.

+++

You spend the morning taking inventory of the repairs needed around the cabin to make it immediately livable. Jotting down a list of supplies, you hop in your truck and head into town to hit up the hardware store.

The owner, George, recognizes you from previous trips with your grandfather when you were younger. He greets you warmly and helps you find everything you need. As you’re checking out, he asks, “Run into Logan yet?”

“Logan?”

He nods his head. “Shares a property line with you. Has a cabin of his own just about a quarter mile north of yours. Asked him to keep his eye out on the place.”

“Oh, well, that was nice of him,” you comment, stuffing your receipt in your purse.

George shrugs. “Figured it would give him something different to do. Doesn’t interact much with people.”

“Guess I’ll just have to introduce myself then,” you say, lifting your bags up off the checkout counter.

“Good luck with that,” George responds with a huffed laugh. “He’s not one for small talk.”

You give George a polite smile and leave the store, bags in hand. But the conversation sparks your curiosity and you find yourself thinking of the man who shares the woods with you. You promised yourself once you were settled, you’d make the short hike towards his place and introduce yourself.

Arriving back at the cabin, you park the truck and hop out, stopping short when you spot a lone figure walking around from the back of your property. You can’t stop the prickle of anxiety that zips up your spine as the figure comes closer, but he doesn’t see you yet, his eyes on the ground as he walks.

You shut the truck door with more force than necessary, the sound echoing off the trees. He looks up then and you suck in a short breath as his rugged features come into view—well trimmed but scruffy beard, wild dark hair and a fit muscular frame you can see even under the flannel of his shirt.

Butterflies flutter in your stomach and you can’t remember the last time you’ve felt like this. You can feel a blush creep across your face and you grip the bags in your hands tighter just to feel something other than the hammering of your heart in your chest.

He stops short of where you’re standing and jerks a thumb behind him. “Turned your electrical breaker on,” he says without introduction and you can only stare at him.

“Oh,” you say dumbly. “I, uh—thanks.”

He tilts his head and looks at you and you feel like you’re on fire under his glare. It’s an inquisitive one, like he can’t quite figure out what you’re doing in a place like this and you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. And yet, you don’t want him to stop looking at you.

“Right,” he says, reaching into the pocket of his jeans for something. He fishes out a key and holds it in your direction. “This is yours.”

You shift the bags, so you’re holding them all in one hand and reach for the key. Your fingertips brush against his just briefly, but it’s enough to set sparks along your skin and you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. As he steps back from you, you blurt out your name and then immediately wish for a swift death at your awkwardness.

God, this was embarrassing.

It’s like you’ve never interacted with humans before.

He gives the barest hint of a smile. “Logan.”

“Nice to meet you, Logan,” you say, just so you can taste his name in your mouth.

Logan nods and turns to head down the path that leads away from your cabin and deeper into the woods. You watch him go, his figure fading further into the distance and you can’t help but think, I’m in trouble.

+++

You spend the rest of the day keeping busy around the cabin—wiping down dusty surfaces, sweeping up cobwebs, replacing broken light bulbs—but your mind never strays far from Logan and the inexplicable pull you have towards him.

You’ve dated. You were married. You weren’t a stranger to the opposite sex and physical attraction, but this felt like more. Like an unavoidable pull between you and him and you’ve just been spun into his orbit.

And that attraction terrifies you.

Over the next few days, you try and shove him from your mind. It helps that you haven’t seen him again, but your eyes inevitably dart towards the path leading away from your cabin as if you’re expecting him to come walking through.

Then, the idea comes to you late one night as you’re sitting in front of the fire, watching the flames lick higher. No matter how hard you had tried, Logan remained firmly planted in your mind, his roots stubborn and unyielding.

Your grandfather always said your grandmother’s cooking was always something that warmed his heart.

But as you walk the small path towards Logan’s property you briefly wonder if you’ve lost your mind. You carry the small pie dish in your hands and as his cabin grows closer you’re actually contemplating turning back and forgetting the whole thing.

Who the hell bakes pies for people any more?

His cabin is smaller than yours, a little more rustic and worn, which seems fitting based on the little you know about him. Several piles of firewood line the roofed porch and at the opposite end, a single chair and table sit in front of the window. With one last shaky inhale, you climb the steps and rap your knuckles against the door. From inside you hear heavy footfalls and then the door opens.

Logan looks down at you and then towards the dish in your hands, an odd expression crossing his handsome features.

“I made you a pie,” you blurt unceremoniously and you instantly wish for the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

Logan just continues to stare at you and you think you see the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth. But maybe not.

“I, uh, my grandfather lived in the cabin next to yours and it’s mine now. I’m fixing it up, because…well, just because and he taught me to pick berries as a kid? So, I did that and I made you this,” you finish in a ramble, flames of embarrassment licking across your skin.

Jesus fucking Christ.

His eyes flick down at the dish in your hands again and you hold it up a bit higher, nudging it closer towards him. As he reaches out to take it, his fingers brush against yours and you again feel electricity tingle down your fingertips. If he notices it too, he says nothing, not that he’s said anything since you showed up on his porch.

Logan tucks the dish closer to his body and gives you a slight nod. You take that as a good sign and step back to leave. “Okay, cool, cool. Well, um, enjoy. I made sure all he berries were the edible ones so you don’t end up throwing up everywhere.”

At that he actually huffs a chuckle. “Good to know,” he finally says, his voice warm and rich and just a bit gruff.

“Right, well, enjoy!” You turn to leave and can feel his stare against your back and it takes all your remaining functioning brain cells to walk normally.

You spend the next few days trying to forget all about your ill-fated attempt to play neighbor, figuring if he didn’t want to know you before, he definitely didn’t after that.

You’re coming back from a hike when you spot Logan through the trees walking away from your place, hands tucked deep within his pockets. Your heart quickens in your chest as you walk up to the front door and find the baking dish sitting on the old welcome mat. It’s freshly washed with a folded up piece of paper sitting inside—Thank you.

You’re certain your smile could rival the light from the sun.

+++

It becomes a routine over the next few weeks—you bringing him food and him returning the dish, all without exchanging any words. You’re thankful he’s not much of a talker because you can’t seem to stop making a fool of yourself around him.

And you don’t know why.

He’s a handsome man, that anyone can see, but you’ve never been so flustered around a beautiful man before.

There’s something else about Logan you can’t pinpoint that sets your heart fluttering behind your ribs. He seems lonely in the same way you are, and you wonder if he’s out here to lick and heal old wounds just like you. You have an inexplicable want to help him, even if that means sharing your food leftovers with him and trying to chip away at the wall that surrounds him.

A part of you is hoping he can help break down your walls, too.

You’re waist deep under the kitchen sink when a knock on the door drags you from fixing the leaking drain.

“Ah, fuck,” you curse, trying to maneuver out of the space while also not spilling the stagnant water left in the sink trap. As you set the old drain down you call out, “Just a second!”

You wipe your hands against your thighs and swing the door open to find Logan standing there, your glass baking dish from yesterday in his hands. For a second you blink silently at him, unable to think of anything but the fact that you’re wearing grease stained overalls and probably smell like a swamp.

“Logan, hi,” you finally say, brushing your hair out of your face.

He gives you a strange look as he hands the dish back to you. You open your mouth to speak when he interrupts you, “Why do you feed me?”

His question hangs in the air and you freeze. Of all the things he could have asked, you weren’t sure why you didn’t expect that one. His voice is a little gruff, but underneath there’s something that makes your heart race. Something vulnerable.

You swallow and grip the edge of the glass dish. Logan stares at you, his gaze intense, and you feel exposed. Like he’s trying to dissect you with just a look.

“Oh, well, I don’t know,” you finally admit. “You just…seem like you could use some kindness.”

He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything else. The silence stretches between you, heavy and charged, and you can feel your pulse quicken. “I can stop if—if you want.”

“No,” he says, his voice rough, but with an undercurrent of tenderness. “No, you don’t have to stop. Just not used to people doin’ things like that for me.”

His admission catches you off guard being the first real piece of personal information he’s shared with you. You’ve gleaned certain things from George—he’s told you about Logan being a mutant and a few pieces of his past—but you know there’s still a world of history hiding behind his loner facade that he keeps hidden. You’re hoping eventually he lets you take a peak inside.

“Everyone deserves kindness, Logan,” you say.

His gaze flickers, a shadow of something crossing his features that makes your heart ache. He shifts on his feet and stares down at the dish in your hands. “I’m not so sure of that,” he replies.

“Well, I am.”

Logan’s eyes drag back up to yours and you try to calm the nervous energy that bubbles under your skin as his stare presses into you. He gives you a small nod then before turning to leave.

He pauses as he hits your driveway and looks back at you, cursing lowly to himself. Scratching at the back of his head, he walks back up the steps and pulls something out of the pocket of his jacket. “I, uh, here,” he says uncertainly as he hands you the small cloth bag.

You can only stare as you take the bag from him, the gift surprisingly light in your hand, but the gesture heavy with unspoken emotion. Your mind races as you think of what could be inside and your heart hammers loudly in your chest.

Logan stands there, eyes not quite meeting yours as he waits for you to open it. Your fingers tremble slightly as you undo the drawstrings and peer inside, finding a mixture of different seeds. You can’t help but trail your fingers through them, feeling the faint warmth they hold from where they were nestled against Logan’s body.

“Oh, Logan,” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion.

You glance up at him and he’s looking at you, scratching at his beard, the faintest hint of blush staining his cheeks. “They’re wildflowers. Don’t know what kind. But, I dunno. I thought you could use them for your garden.”

Your chest tightens as you pull the strings close and tuck the bag in your pocket. “I love them, Logan,” you say, offering him a smile. “Thank you.”

For a moment, you see the tension in his shoulders relax just a bit as he exhales. “Just seemed like something you’d appreciate,” he mumbles, more to himself than to you.

Something has shifted between you and you find yourself itching to touch him, but you don’t. Not yet. The thread holding you two together is there, but thin, and you don’t want it to fray. “I really do appreciate it,” you say softly, stepping just the tiniest bit closer.

Logan nods and his mouth tugs into something that’s not quite a smile, but close. He looks at you for a long moment, the weight of his gaze pressing into you. “Okay. Good.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turns and jogs down the steps.

“Guess I’ll see you around then,” you call after him, a smile spreading across your face.

He glances back over his shoulder. “Yeah. I guess you will.”

And maybe, just maybe, the walls around him are beginning to crumble.

+++

Sweat beads across your brow as you work, but you pay it no heed. Your attention keeps slipping to Logan as you pry another nail loose from the rotted board. You’ve fallen into an odd relationship with the elusive man whose property line you share, yet you still barely know anything about him.

It’s been a week since he stopped by and gave you those wildflower seeds. A warmth still spreads in your chest when you think about it. And true to his promise, you do see him around, albeit not as much as you’d like. He seems wary, as if his gift opened up a part of himself he wasn’t ready for you to see.

But at least he doesn’t drop off your clean dishes and run anymore.

As you pry the last nail free, the rotten board comes free and you toss it down onto the grass along with the others. Thankfully, the porch isn’t terribly large and you figure another hour or so to remove the remaining boards before you can start laying down fresh lumber.

The crunch of gravel pulls you from your work and you look up to find Logan walking down the path, a large leather bag in his hand. You look up at him, wiping the sweat off your brow and lean back onto your heels, trying your best not to stare at his forearms.

“Oh, hey, Logan,” you say, wiping your hands against your jeans as you stand. “What brings you to my side of the woods?”

He actually smiles at you and nods towards the porch. “Need help?”

You hate the little flutter you feel pressing against your ribs. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Well, it’s good thing you’re not asking. I’m offering.”

You blink, caught off guard by his directness. “Oh, well, if you insist,” you say, trying to calm your nerves. “It would be nice to have a second set of hands.”

He sets the leather bag down on the porch with a thud and you catch a glimpse of the tools nestled inside. Logan notices you looking and comments, “I know a few things.” His smirk makes your legs feel like jello.

“Oh, I bet you know a lot of things,” you blurt, and your eyes widen at the double entendre of your words, heat flushing across your face.

Logan laughs, a real laugh, his eyes crinkling. “Well, it’s always good to be well educated,” he says with a wink.

Fuck, you feel like you’re going to spontaneously combust.

Shoving down your raging embarrassment, you lay out your plan to fix the porch and Logan gives a small nod. He starts at the opposite end, prying loose the first board with ease. You try not to stare at the way his muscles move and how his skin begins to slick with the first beads of sweat. You work in silence for a while, the only sounds those of the forest around you.

“So, what actually brought you out here?” Logan finally asks.

You glance over at him and watch as he tosses another board onto the grass. He looks at you expectantly and you sigh. “I got divorced,” you answer honestly. “And I needed something pour my energy into other than wondering where the fuck I went wrong.”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, your openness leaving you feeling raw, and instead focus on the board in front of you. Anger begins to simmer in your veins at the thought of the last couple of years and you grab the next plank with just enough force to wedge a splinter deep into your palm. A loud curse falls from your lips as you drop the board.

You feel Logan next to you and you suck in a deep breath as he reaches for your hand, his fingers curling around yours. “Lemme see,” he says, pulling you close and you can smell the earthiness of him, like damp soil and campfire smoke. You find yourself staring at him, his proximity intoxicating, as you drink in his long lashes and the slope of his nose.

He tilts your palm towards himself, his fingers pressing gently yet with firm enough pressure to push the splinter out of your skin. Pulling it out the rest of the way, his eyes flick up to yours. “Somehow I don’t think you’re the one that fucked up, sweetheart.” His voice is warm and you want to melt into him.

“Well,” you start, clearing your throat, “I certainly wasn’t fucking his mistresses.”

Something in his eyes darkens and a shiver runs down your spine. “He’s a fool for losin’ you,” he growls, and his words hit you with more force than you’d care to admit.

His hand still lingers on yours, steady and reassuring and warm and for a moment you think he might lean closer. You desperately want him to. To press his mouth against yours, to feel his breath against your skin, to have his taste against your tongue. But he pulls back, his expression one of thin control, but you can see the storm behind his gaze.

“A damn fool,” he mutters under his breath and you can’t help but wonder if he’s talking about himself or your ex.

Logan lets your hand go, turning back towards the porch and you mourn the loss, your skin still tingling from the contact. You swallow hard, trying to shake off the intensity of the moment. It’s Logan—quiet, gruff Logan, who never really sticks around for a real conversation and yet here he is, offering help and showing that maybe he’s not entirely as unaffected by you as you thought.

Your heartbeat drums in your ears as you watch him go back to work, prying up the next board, his muscles flexing beneath his worn shirt. His jaw clenches and there’s a focused determination in his movements and you can’t tell if he’s working out some anger or trying to keep himself in check.

You work in silence for several more minutes, the only sounds being the prying of loose boards and creaking lumber. There’s a tension between you now, more so than there was before, something palpable.

It’s enough to drive you mad.

“What about you?” you finally ask, your voice somewhat hesitant. “You don’t talk about yourself much.”

Logan glances at you from the corner of his eye and his brow furrows, as if he’s weighing whether or not to answer. “Not much to tell,” he grunts, pulling up another board with more force than necessary.

“Somehow, I doubt that. You don’t just wake up one day alone in the woods with forearms like that.”

Logan looks over at you and smirks. “Maybe I’m just really good with my hands.” His voice dips low and you can’t help the warmth that pools low in your belly at his words.

You swallow, your throat suddenly dry. “Yeah, no…yep. I’m starting to figure that out.”

He’s silent for a few moments as he goes back to work and the air between you hums with something charged. “You really want to know?” he asks, his voice rough. “I’ve been around for too long, longer than anyone should. Done things I’m not proud of.” He tosses another plank aside and all you can do it watch him. “I’ve…I’ve hurt people I care about. People I’ve cared about have hurt me. I’m not really sure I belong anywhere, so I just…drift.”

There’s something raw in his voice, something broken and vulnerable, and it catches you off guard. For all his outward strength, there’s man deep down inside who’s lost, and your heart aches for him.

“You belong here,” you say softly.

He doesn’t look at you, but you can feel the tension shift as the weight of your words settle between you. Another board gets tossed aside. “Yeah, maybe.”

He finally raises his gaze to yours and for a moment the world quiets—the forest, the porch, all of it—as his eyes lock onto yours and his expression softens. You offer him a warm smile and then return back to the porch, hesitant to push him any further.

You work comfortably together after that. The old boards removed, Logan helps you place and nail down the new ones. Your conversation is limited to the project, but you don’t mind.

As Logan packs up his tools, you glance over at him. “Thank you.”

A half smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “You’re welcome,” comes his reply as he steps off the porch and heads down the path back towards his cabin.

“Logan!” you call, lightly jogging after him before he slips out of view. He pauses and turns back towards you. “Can I make you dinner?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Haven’t you already been doin’ that?”

“No,” you say shaking your head, “I mean, yes, I have, but like a proper dinner? Fresh from kitchen to table. I can come by you, if you’d like.”

Logan studies you for a moment, his gaze intense and you can feel your heart beating against your ribs. He’s silent for so long you wonder if you’ve overstepped and you open your mouth to speak when he says, “Alright. Come by tomorrow, six o’clock.”

You can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face. “Tomorrow it is.”

+++

You’re up before the sun, your nerves a tangle of raw edges. You lay there, staring at the ceiling and wondering what the fuck you’ve gotten yourself into.

You weren’t expecting to meet someone out here in the woods. You were hoping for tranquility, a distraction to quiet the voice in your head that kept nagging you for how your life veered off course. That maybe if you worked more, did more, loved more you wouldn’t be a thirty year old divorcee.

Instead, you find a mysterious man who sparks within you a flame you long thought extinguished. A ruggedly handsome man who’s somehow wormed his way into your life and has you wondering if maybe he can’t help mend the pieces of your broken heart.

Except you don’t know if that same spark is ignited within him and if his gesture of dinner is simple kindness. A response to the kindness you’ve shown him over the last two months or if he’s feeling that same attraction you do.

God, you hope he does.

You spend the morning cleaning, trying to pour your nervous energy into something productive other than worrying about what the evening may bring. Driving into town, you agonize over what to make even though he’s been eating what you’ve made without complaint for weeks now. You opt to keep it simple—pasta with homemade meat sauce, a nice loaf of bread and a couple bottles of wine.

While the sauce is simmering on the stove you get ready. You dress for comfort, a simple pair of leggings and a flowy top that hangs slightly off your shoulders. You catch your reflection in the mirror and give yourself a silent nod of encouragement. Despite this just being dinner, the night brims with the possibility of maybe something more.

Once the food is prepared, you carefully pack everything in a large basket and begin the walk to Logan’s cabin. The night is cool, but still holds the warmth of day and the promise of summer to come. You feel your anticipation heighten the closer you get to his place and your stomach drops when you see it appear up ahead.

It’s just Logan, you remind yourself.

Stepping up onto his porch, you give a hesitant knock at the door. He greets you almost instantly and you suck in a deep breath. Logan looks good and your heart does a flip as you take him in—well fitting jeans, a clean white shirt underneath a soft red flannel button down, his hair is still slightly damp from a shower.

“You’re early,” he comments, standing aside to let you in. You catch the slight frown tug at his mouth as he notices the basket. “You coulda cooked here, you know.”

“Oh, well, I didn’t know if you’d want me invading your space,” you reply, following him deeper into the cabin and setting the basket down on the counter.

Logan turns back towards you, bracing his hands against the counter. “I don’t mind you in my space.”

His words hang in the air between you and you can feel your pulse quicken. You glance up at him, and the way he’s looking at you—steady and unflinching—sends a thrill down your spine.

You clear your throat, trying to settle the nerves in your chest. “Next time then,” you say lightly, hoping he can’t hear the slight waver in your voice.

Logan’s lips quirk into a half smile. “Next time,” he agrees.

He reaches into a cabinet above him, pulling down a couple of plates and glasses, setting a small table in the corner of the small kitchen. You keep yourself busy unpacking the food, arranging the bread, pasta and sauce on the table, working around him as he uncorks the wine and pours both of you a glass.

Logan joins you then, raising his glass and clinking it gently against yours. He nods in a silent cheers and tips his head back as he drinks, his eyes never leaving yours. You can’t suppress the shiver that shoots down your spine.

Setting down his glass, he serves you and then himself, commenting, “This smells amazing.”

“Family recipe,” you reply, taking another sip wine. “Remind me to make it for you when I have fresh tomatoes. It’s even better then.”

“I’ll have to do that,” he says with a smile.

Conversation starts off slow, but not awkward, as you both test the limits of what you’re wiling to share. Logan’s answers are often short, reserved, but what he does reveal helps bring into focus the outline of the man before you. An outline you’re hoping he’ll let you fill in.

“George says you’re a mutant,” you start slowly and you don’t miss the way his posture stiffens, his fork scraping harshly against the plate.

He goes still and you wonder if you fucked up. Crossed a boundary he wasn’t willing to cross.

Eventually, Logan’s eyes flick up to yours and he lets out a small hum. “He did, did he?”

You nod, chewing. “It doesn’t bother me.”

He’s quiet for a beat. “It bothers most people.”

“I’m not most people,” you reply, your voice soft.

Something in his face softens then, the furrow of his brow a little less pronounced. A slight smile plays at his lips. “No. No you’re not.”

You feel a warmth bloom in your chest and your face flushes. Taking another bite, you ask, “Can I see?”

Logan studies you for a moment and you can see him deciding whether or not to show you that part of him he’d rather keep hidden. He sets the silverware down and he flexes his fingers before resting his palms back on the table. Then, he unsheathes his claws and you can’t stop the gasp that falls from your lips.

You see him flinch at your reaction and he goes to retract his claws and you reach for him. “Don’t,” you say, your fingers hovering just above the blades.

As he relaxes, you gently rest your fingertips against the metal, finding it surprisingly cool but still holding a faint warmth from his body. His eyes drop to where you’re touching him as you slowly begin to trace each blade with your fingers, following the slight curve down to where they emerge from his skin. You look up at him, finding his gaze fixed on you and you shiver under the intensity.

“They’re beautiful,” you whisper. You feel him shudder beneath you as he retracts his claws, leaving your fingertips nestled against the skin between his knuckles.

You pull your hand away from his, mourning the loss of his skin against yours. Logan clears his throat and pulls his hands into his lap, glancing down at them as if they’re foreign, something he’s never taken the time to notice before. He flexes his fingers once more before dragging his gaze back to your face.

“Do they hurt?” you ask quietly.

He shakes his head. “No. Not anymore.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “Thank you for showing me.”

Logan studies you for a long moment, searching your face like he’s trying to figure you out. You know he’s probably not used to this, someone seeing him as something other than a mutant, an aberration, someone who should be hidden away. Then, his face softens.

“People don’t usually ask,” he says quietly.

You smile gently, feeling that flame inside you burn just a bit brighter. “I just want to know you.”

He leans back in his chair, his gaze still steady, but more open, as if some of those invisible walls he surrounds himself with have started to come down. If only just enough to let the light shine through.

An unspoken tension simmers, thickening the air, and you know he can feel it too, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s heavy with promise. You turn your attention back to your plate and for a few moments, neither of you speak.

“So,” you say after a beat, “Do you ever use them as forks?”

Logan huffs out a laugh, the sound surprising you and his eyes crinkle in genuine amusement. “I can’t say that I have,” he replies with a smile.

You grin. “You should give it a try.”

“If I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

The rest of dinner passes with easy conversation and you feel your nerves begin to settle, just a bit. Logan seems less guarded too, more at ease than you’ve ever seen him.

You help him clear the table, ignoring his request that you just sit and relax. As you stand next to him, emptying the leftovers into a container, you feel his eyes on you. When you hand him the container, your fingers brush again, but this time he doesn’t immediately pull away. His fingers linger just a bit longer than necessary and your breath catches in your throat.

“Thanks for dinner, he says quietly, voice low. “And for…understanding.”

You nod, feeling that unmistakable pull between you, the tug that’s kept you orbiting closer and closer to him. “Anytime, Logan,” you answer softly. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

There’s a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, like he’s been burned before and is still figuring out if he can trust what you’re offering him. And you understand his turmoil, trust having shattered your heart into pieces, pieces you’re still trying to pick up and reshape.

Logan steps a little bit closer then and before you can say anything else, his hand gently reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture is simple but intimate and it sends a shiver down your spine, heat pooling lowly in your belly.

“C’mon,” he says. “Let me walk you home.”

He grabs your basket before you can protest and you follow him out into the night. There’s a full moon hanging heavy in the sky, illuminating the path in front of you, yet you remain close to Logan. You curse to yourself as you trip over an exposed root and then you feel Logan reach out for you, his fingers wrapping securely around your own. The heat of his palm against yours is almost overwhelming.

Your cabin comes into view and Logan slows, his fingers slipping from your grasp as he sets the basket down on the porch.

“Good night, Logan,” you say softly as you walk up the steps.

As you turn from him, he reaches for your wrist, his fingers curling and pressing hotly against your skin. Your breath hitches as he climbs the steps to join you on the porch, and your gasps dies in your throat as he tilts your chin up and forces you to meet his gaze.

“Do I make you nervous?” His voice is low, breath hot and damp against your skin.

“Yes,” you breathe, somehow inching closer to him, your fingers reaching for the hem of his flannel and twisting into the fabric.

“Why?” He brushes his nose against yours and you chase after the touch.

Swallowing hard, you look up at him from under your lashes. You tilt further into him, your mouth hovering just over his. “Because I haven’t felt like this in a very long time and I don’t want it to go away.” Don’t want you to go away.

Logan nods and whispers, “I’m not goin’ anywhere.” And then he presses his mouth to yours.

It’s soft, barely a hint of skin against skin, but when you whisper, “Please,” against his lips, Logan growls and then he’s everywhere. His kiss claims you, his tongue licking in your mouth and you whimper as his fingers curl along the nape of your neck somehow pulling you impossibly closer.

You wind your arms around his shoulders, your fingers tangling in the short strands at the back of his head. Your entire world is focused down to the feel of his lips on yours and the press of his fingers against your jaw as he pulls you towards his hungry mouth.

Logan’s grip on you tightens, one hand splayed across your lower back and the other pressed firmly between your shoulder blades, anchoring you to him. The heat between you is palpable, each movement of his lips setting you further aflame. You lose track of time, lost in the sensation of his beard scraping against your skin, leaving a tingling trail in its wake.

When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathless and his forehead rests against yours, your shared breaths mingling in the space between you. His eyes are dark and intense as they search your face and you feel untethered, Logan being the only thing keeping you grounded.

“You okay?” he asks, voice rough, but surprisingly tender as his thumb traces along the line of your jaw.

You nod, swallowing the lump that’s formed in your throat. You don’t trust yourself to speak.

His lips quirk into a small smile. “Good.” He brushes a stray strand of hair away from your cheek, his hand lingering at the side of your face. He presses one last soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before he steps back and walks down the path back home.

+++

You can’t stop thinking about the kiss—Logan’s lips against yours, the taste of his tongue, the press of his hands against your skin, hot and heavy, yet gentle.

You want to live in that moment forever. Want to know only his kisses for the rest of your life, for him to be the first person you kiss good morning and the last person you kiss goodnight. For him to kiss you just because he can, because he misses you, because he can’t get the feel of your mouth out of his mind and he needs to feel you again pressing against him.

You also want to run away, hide yourself from these emotions that are overwhelming you and leaving you feeling raw and exposed and absolutely terrified. You haven’t kissed another man in two years and he broke your heart, leaving nothing but shattered pieces and dust in his wake. Dust that still clings to you despite your best efforts to sweep it up. Those pieces of your heart are still sharp, jagged where they should be smooth.

You’ve always been trusting, choosing to see the light in others as opposed the darkness. Believing deep down that everyone deserves kindness, deserves a second chance, that one bad deed does not a bad person make. But he stole a part of that from you and you hate him for it. Hate that even now, after all this time, he’s able to worm his way into your brain and make you question the motives of the man who’s made you feel more alive than you have in months.

Last night you felt unshackled, unbound by the fear that had chained you for so long. You felt as if Logan’s very touch, his presence, had set your soul on fire and instead of fearing the burn, you were ready to embrace the warmth.

But now, raw contempt begins to simmer in your veins and you need something to pour your frustration into before it threatens to consume you whole.

Throwing your hair up into a messy bun and throwing on a paint-stained shirt and ripped jeans, you head outside looking for a project to sink fingers into. In the small shed behind the cabin, you find a few gardening supplies—a small shovel, trowel, bow rake—and you drag them out and to the overgrown flower beds.

You don’t even bother with the tools at first, ripping at the dead growth with your bare hands, pulling it from the earth in great clumps and tossing it aside. Your pulse beats loudly in your ears as you move from bed to bed, clawing away the old growth, your breathing growing ragged and your palms staining with dirt.

Grabbing the rake, you dig at the remaining plants, tearing at the roots, destroying the new growth. Tears run hotly down your face, blurring your vision and your throat aches from force of your breathing and screams you’ve been holding back.

From behind you, you hear the sound of your name and you whip around so quickly, the rake goes flying from your hands. You can hear the snikt of Logan’s claws as they unsheathe and the splintering of wood as he deflects the rake flying at him. It clatters to the ground between you as he retracts his claws and looks at you, his brow furrowed in concern.

You wonder, then, exactly what you look like in that moment. Dirt caked on your hands and under your fingernails, cheeks flushed with exertion, hair a halo of disarray. The pure adrenaline you’d been running on wanes and your limbs suddenly feel heavy and you sink to the ground in front of him. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, because you’re afraid of what you’ll see.

Logan approaches you slowly, kneeling down in front of you and gently raising your chin to look up at him. The stark worry etched on his face makes you ache and fresh tears burn in your eyes. You wipe at your eyes, which only serves to smear dirt across your face.

“I’m terrified, Logan,” you whisper, wanting to reach for him, but afraid to touch him. “I terrified of how much I like you.”

“You scare me too,” he confesses softly and your heart breaks.

He leans closer, fingers resting hesitantly against your knees. You reach for him too, grabbing on to the open sides of his jacket and pulling him to you. Logan doesn’t flinch, doesn’t push back and instead envelopes you into his arms, your head resting against the solid warmth of his chest.

Safe in his arms, you cry. Harsh, broken sobs as he rubs your back, the soft caress of his fingers along your spine anchoring you to him as he holds you. He murmurs into your hair that he’s got you, to let it all out, and you do.

Eventually, you calm and sigh, pressing your forehead against his chest, loathe to move just yet. “I’m broken, Logan,” you mumble into his shirt. You look up at him then, the softness and concern on his face making you physically ache. “I still have broken pieces where I should be whole.”

Slowly, tentatively, he brings his hands up to your face, cupping your cheeks in his hands. His thumbs brush at the dirt and tears under your eyes and he smoothes the hair away from your forehead. “Maybe some of my pieces fit,” he says, voice low, but steady.

His words send a flood of emotion through you, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. Then the gravity of what he’s saying hits you—he’s offering you himself, all his jagged and scarred pieces, the pieces no one else sees.

The pieces he wants you to see.

You lean forward, pressing the lightest of kisses against the corner of his mouth. His sigh is hot against your cheek, but he doesn’t press further.

“Thank you,” you whisper into his skin and somehow it feels like the most important thing you’ve ever said.

“C’mon,” he says, “Let me help you get this cleaned up.”

You nod, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. Logan stands, offering you his hand. You take it, your fingers slipping into his and his grip is steady, yet gentle as he helps you up.

Without a word, Logan grabs the broken rake and begins removing the debris from the beds you laid waste to. You watch him work for a moment before joining in, pulling the weeds from the beds you hadn’t gotten to yet. Every now and then your eyes meet, but you don’t say anything. You don’t feel the need to fill the space with words, his presence beside you speaking volumes more than he could ever say.

After a while, Logan pauses and looks over at you, wiping the dirt from his hands into his jeans. “You still got those seeds I gave you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Go get ‘em,” he says nodding towards the cabin. “We’ll plant something new.”

You retrieve the small pouch where you’ve kept it safe and come out to find Logan kneeling in the dirt, his fingers making small pockets of earth to house the new flowers. He looks up at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You join him on the ground, dropping a few seeds in each well as he moves to create the next one.

“I’m not very good at this,” Logan starts, covering the last well with dirt, “but I promise I won’t break you. You don’t gotta be scared of me.”

He looks at you then, his hazel eyes meeting yours and you reach for his hand, your thumb brushing across his dirt stained knuckles.

“No,” you reply with a smile, “I don’t think I do.”

+++

It’s been three days since that moment with Logan in the garden and the air between you has been quiet. Logan hasn’t come by the cabin, but you hadn’t sought him out either. You weren’t avoiding him, exactly. More a need for space, a chance to process the feelings you felt for him, to test if you were truly ready to open yourself up to him.

Your mind never strays far from him, though. An almost constant loop plays in your brain of the way he held you, the way he spoke, the quiet promise he made not to break you. There’s a large part of you that believes him; your heart is screaming at you shed your lingering doubt and trust him, but your rational brain is grasping desperately to the kernel of truth that vows can be broken.

So you turn to what you do best—pour your energy into other things. The cabin is spotless now, cleaned of disuse and age, turned into a cozy place of retreat, a simple shelter turned into a home. And yet…

You’re sitting on the porch, watching the sun dip lower in the sky, the book you’d been trying to read long forgotten. The forest is peaceful, alive with the sounds of early summer. But as calming as it is, you can’t ignore the ache in your chest—you miss him. More than you thought possible.

Just as you’re about to stand, the sound of boots against gravel catches your attention. You look up and there he is—Logan. His hands are shoved deep into the pockets of his worn jacket as he walks up the path. His look is cautious, as if he’s unsure whether or not you’ll accept his presence.

Your heart skips a beat and you stand, wiping your palms against your jeans as he draws closer. His hazel eyes meet yours and there’s something softer about him, something open.

He stops a few feet away from you, gaze steady. “I wasn’t sure if I should come by.” His voice is still gruff, but quieter than usual. “If you needed space or not.”

“I did, need space. But not from you,” you clarify. You take a hesitant step towards him. “I missed you.”

Logan sighs then, his posture relaxing just slightly. “I wanted so badly to see you. I didn’t know if I should stay away.”

Before you can second guess yourself, you step down from the porch, closing the distance between you. You stand in front of him, noticing the faint lines of tension around his mouth, the way his jaw is clenched as if bracing himself for your rejection.

“Don’t stay away,” you say softly, “I want you here.”

You reach for him, your fingers brushing against his hands as you pull them from his pockets. Logan doesn’t pull away and the warmth of his skin against yours feels like the most natural thing in the world. You feel it then, that familiar pull—the one that’s been there since the beginning, drawing you closer and closer into his orbit, his sun.

You brush your thumbs across his knuckles and look up at him. “You wanna come inside?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll make you something to eat?”

Logan nods, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

As you lead him inside, something in the air between you shifts, something subtle. But you know one thing for certain—you’re not afraid anymore. Not of this.

+++

The sun has set, the food long gone and as Logan’s hand reaches for the front door, you slip in front of him. His scent overwhelms you, that earthy dampness you’ve come to associate with him flooding your senses.

“What if you stayed?” you ask, the slight waver in your voice betraying your boldness.

You watch as his eyes darken and he leans even further into your space. “Do you know what you’re asking, sweetheart?” he replies, eyes searching your face.

Swallowing, you nod. “I do,” you whisper.

Then you slide your arms around his waist, pulling him closer as you lean in and kiss the hollow of his throat. You can feel him swallow hard beneath your lips and you smirk into his skin as you drag your mouth higher, over the long column of his neck to nip at the corner of his jaw.

“Stay,” you murmur in his ear.

Logan turns, his nose brushing against your cheek as he seeks your mouth and you inhale deeply as his lips find yours. His fingers wind themselves into your hair, resting against the nape of your neck as he pulls you closer. You whimper into his mouth when he pulls back, eyes blown black.

“Show me where,” he says, his voice low.

You lead him up the stairs, his hand warm in yours and you barely make it to the top before Logan’s spinning you around, mouth finding yours. His is kiss is demanding, so different from that first one all those nights ago. This is urgent and desperate, like he can’t possibly get you close enough to satisfy the need deep within him. And you feel it too, pouring yourself back equally into the kiss, moaning as his tongue finally slips alongside yours.

Your fingers fumble along the top of his jeans, pulling his shirt from where it’s tucked and sliding your hands up along the sides of his ribs. He rewards you with a deep groan of his own, nipping slightly at your bottom lip.

“Christ, sweetheart,” he rumbles against your lips, kissing you once, twice, “I’ve been dyin’ to feel your hands on me.”

“Me, too,” you reply, gasping as his hands find the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough to brush his fingers hotly along your skin.

Logan pulls back just enough to look down at your face, his fingers still clutching the fabric of your shirt, but lifting it just a bit higher. His gaze is questioning, asking for silent permission to continue. You nod once and he slowly drags the shirt up, his fingers skimming along your sides, over the swells of your breasts as he pulls the shirt over your head.

Despite the heat coursing through your veins, you shiver under the intensity of his stare. He kisses you again, inhaling deeply, before moving down, nipping over your chin, your throat, in between your breasts.

Logan’s hands follow his mouth, running a trail from your shoulders, down long your spine, easily flicking open the clasp of your bra on the way. He glances up at you as he moves to pull the straps aside, dragging them down your arms.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asks, his hands coming up to cup your breasts, thumbs fanning out across your nipples.

A jolt of pleasure shoots down your spine and pools low in your belly. You feel like you might spontaneously catch on fire and he’s barely touched you. You can’t remember ever feeling like this when a man has touched you, so consumed by want and need.

His fingers trail lower, brushing along the top of your jeans, popping open the button. You grab for his hand, stopping him. You see the concern flicker across his face and you smile. “Your turn,” you say, sliding your palms up his chest and pushing the flannel from his shoulders, his shirt following suit.

You revel in his muscular physique, your fingers tracing along his collarbones, down over the broad planes of his chest, feeling the wiry hair beneath your fingertips. His muscles flutter beneath your touch as you follow the trail of hair lower, down to the vee between his hips.

Logan’s arousal is evident by the tenting of his jeans, and your eyes locked on his, you dip lower, giving the faintest of caresses over the fabric.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he curses. “Take your pants off.”

It’s a command, not an ask, and one you’re more than willing to comply with.

Nervous energy licks at your skin as your fingers tuck into the waistband of your jeans and pull them down. Logan follows your lead, unbuckling his belt and shoving his jeans over his hips, kicking them aside. His cock juts out proudly, thick and heavy, nestled in a bed of hair.

Logan’s on you before you can kick away the last leg, hoisting you up under your thighs and forcing you to wrap your legs around his hips. His palms are hot against your ass and you can feel his cock trapped between you.

He moves you both to the bed, setting you down before crawling over you and slotting himself between your thighs. Leaning back on his heels, he stares down at you, skin flushed. He kisses you softly once, before dragging a single finger down the center of your chest, hooking it into the waistband of your panties.

“What do you like?” he asks lowly, eyes boring into yours.

You stare at him, unable to comprehend his question as he slides his finger back and forth across your skin. Electric sparks of anticipation crawl up your spine and you can feel the rapid flutter of your heart against your ribs.

“You want me to touch you with my fingers?” His voice is low, so low and you shiver.

Your mouth has gone dry and you can only nod.

“You want me to touch you with my mouth?” Logan leans down, skimming his lips across your collarbone, nipping lightly.

Your fingers stutter across his shoulders and wind themselves into his hair. Logan’s smirk presses into the corner of your jaw. “Want me to touch you with both?”

“Please,” you whine into his neck, breath hot against his skin.

Logan trails back down your body, kisses peppering over your neck, both breasts, your belly before he presses a kiss to the top of your clothed mound. He hooks his fingers into the waistband and looks up at you, asking for permission. At your nod, he pulls he material down, eyes never leaving yours as he trails his fingers down your legs and tosses the fabric aside.

You’re fully bare, exposed in a way you haven’t been in a long time and your nerves blush across your skin. Instinctively, you try to close your legs, but he stops you, his hot palms curling against your thighs.

“You don’t gotta hide from me,” Logan says, kissing your knee and spreading your legs further apart. “You’re so pretty like this. Flushed and wet and smelling so sweet for me.”

A jolt of desire zips down your spine. Nothing could have prepared you for the filthiness of words that would spill from his mouth. Or how much you’d enjoy hearing them.

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” you murmur.

“That’s not possible.”

“Other men have—“

Your words die in your throat as Logan grips your chin, forcing your gaze up to his face. His expression is soft, but his eyes flash with a glint of something dark. “When I fuck you, I’ll be the only man in your bed, understand?”

The roughness and edge in his voice makes you shiver and heat pools between your thighs. You swallow heavily and nod.

“I want this,” he says, his tone softer. “I want you. Whatever you’ll give me.”

Slowly, you reach for his hand and guide his fingers to where you’re wet and aching for him. At the first brush of his fingertips against your folds, you gasp and your fingers dig deeper into his skin.

“Relax, sweetheart,” Logan coos. “I’m gonna make you feel good.”

And then he’s touching you, fingers dragging through your arousal before circling around your clit. He caresses you like he knows you and you’re molten beneath him. One finger, then two slip inside you, pressing against that spot that makes you squirm and grip at the sheets beneath you.

“Fuck,” you breathe, “You weren’t lying.” Logan quirks an eyebrow, fingers still curling within you, his rhythm picking up speed. “You are good with your hands.”

His chuckle rumbles through his chest as he continues to move, this thumb working over your clit. Your hips jolt off the bed when Logan replaces his thumb with his tongue, drawing the sensitive bud into his mouth.

He continues to work your cunt, long, flat presses of his tongue against your clit punctuated by the short, sharp thrusts of his fingers. The dual sensation is enough to wind that tension in your core tighter, building you up higher and higher until you feel yourself reaching that inevitable peak.

“Logan, I—I’m so close,” you gasp, fisting your fingers into his hair.

His growl against your cunt is enough to send you over the edge, the vibrations rippling through your body as your orgasm washes over you. Through half lidded eyes, you meet his gaze from between your thighs, his eyes dark with desire and you shiver at the intensity of his stare.

Logan crawls over you, pressing a kiss to your lips. You can taste yourself on his lips, bright and sour, as he licks into your mouth.

“Do you trust me?”

Logan’s fingers are still moving against you, wringing out the last of your orgasm and you can only nod. He withdraws his fingers and you whine, but he just smirks and taps your hip.

“Turn over,” he commands lowly.

A shudder ripples through you as you willingly comply, rolling onto your stomach as Logan’s palm trails from your hip over the swell of your ass. His fingers kneed into your flesh and you squeak as he curves them over your skin, pulling you up onto your knees, drawing your hips flush with his. The thick feel of his cock presses into your ass and you can’t help but push back, enjoying the strangled moan that falls from his lips.

“I can’t wait to be nestled deep inside you,” he groans, slotting his cock between your thighs, running the length along your wet cunt.

You peer over your shoulder and smirk at him. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Logan lines up then and the air punches out of your lungs as he slowly eases himself in to the hilt. He’s deep at this angle and you feel claimed, owned in the best way possible as he begins to move his hips. The drag of his cock against your walls is exquisite and you’re sure you’ve never experienced pleasure quite like this before.

His fingers dig into the flesh at your hips, grabbing as much as he can to pull you back into him and you push back, meeting him thrust for thrust. His grip is enough to be bruising, teetering that line between pleasure and pain and yet you relish it.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasps. “Look so good stretched around my cock.”

Pleasure zips along your spine and curls along your limbs, each drag of his cock against you coiling that band in your belly tighter and tighter. Yet, you need more. You need to feel him, feel his arms around you, on you, feel his mouth hot and open against your skin.

“I need to feel you closer,” you whine. “Please, I—”

Logan’s arm slips underneath you, curling just under your breasts and pulling your back flush to his chest. He holds on, fingertips splaying across your ribcage as he fucks up into you, his breath hot and damp against your ear.

You turn your head just enough to capture his lips, your mouth pressing against his in an open-mouthed kiss. He steals the moan from your throat as his other hand dips to where you’re joined, fingers beginning to circle around your clit.

Slipping a hand into his hair, you hold him to you, your head falling back onto his shoulder. Logan groans when you rake your nails along his scalp and you do it again. Your mixed groans and the wet noises from where he’s thrusting into you fill the room and time seems to stop. There is nothing but the thick feel of him between your legs, the fervent press of his fingers against your clit and the tight grasp of his hand across your breast.

A litany of praise falls from his mouth and his words burn through you, setting you aflame from the inside. It’s too early for thoughts of love and forever, but you can feel something real, something undeniable pulling you together, uniting you in a way more than just physical. You’re bound to him.

Logan’s hand slides up your sternum, his fingers coming to cup your jaw, pulling your focus back to him. The pad of his thumb pulls at your lower lip. “Come for me, sweetheart,” he husks into your ear. “I wanna hear those pretty sounds you make.”

And you do, two more forceful thrusts sending you teetering over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you. Logan doesn’t stop, fucking you through wave after wave, his thrusts getting sloppier as he chases his own release.

“Let me feel you, Logan,” you pant, your breath coming out in short gasps. “Please.”

With a deep groan into your shoulder he comes, his cock spasming deep within you, painting your womb with his seed. His arm around your hips holds you firmly in place as he uses your body to wring out the last of his pleasure, shallowly thrusting as your walls caress him. When he finally stills, breath hot against your skin, you can feel your combined come slick against your thighs.

You don’t know how long he holds you like that, back to chest, keeping you in his arms simply because he can.

Only later, when the sweat begins to cool on your skin and your flesh pebbles, does Logan lay you down, finally slipping from within you. He pulls you close and you rest your head against his chest, the comforting lull of his heartbeat echoing in your ear.

You lightly trace your fingertips over the crest of his hipbone just to feel him beneath you. His breathing evens out, approaching that blissful edge of sleep when you glance up at him. Logan opens his eyes, gaze meeting yours and he smiles.

“Logan?”

His hum vibrates through his chest.

“I think we’re healing each other.”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he answers, “I think we are.”

#logan howlett x you #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #origins wolverine #origins logan howlett #the wolverine #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine smut #logan howlett fic #logan howlett fanfiction #logan x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader

2K notes · View notes

lustkillers · 2 months ago

Note

Would love to see some content for Simon from Dinner in America or Colin Gray, you’re more than welcome to pick the subject matter, preferably female reader

｡ﾟ･ ୨୧ . i owe you a black eye and two kisses.

⊹₊ ⋆ summary. - oh, how he's missed his girl during his time away.

⊹₊ ⋆ pairing - simon / john q x fem!reader

✶ c.w. - nsfw freaky deaky time!! hard?dom simon, sub!reader, unprotected sex (WRAP IT UP.), p in v, car sex (in a volkswagen beetle...), public sex, STOMACH BULGE!!! facial, throat fucking-ish, degradation—but also praise, cowgirl position, overstimulation, hair pulling, very cutesy fic... (let me know if i missed anything!)

⊹₊ ⋆ note - back from the dead (laziness) and kicking it!! i hope i did this request justice as i haven’t written in so long… WHOOPS. its been literally ages since i wrote smut so i apologize if i’m rusty as hell doing this… PLEASE FORGIVE ME. anywho… LUSTKILLERS IS SO BACK BABY 🙂‍↕️

requests are open! <3

THE night was cold and you couldn't be more bored out of your mind. the windows of your red volkswagen beetle were down, the distinguished smell of the car gas filling the air around you. your leg bounced, the keys that consisted of plenty of keychain accessories clinking against each other, and your eyes traced over the rusty, tall fence that you probably counted all the diamond-shaped holes between each steel bar. how long have you been here? an hour? hour too early?

at the rate of biting at your own cheek unconsciously, there was probably a dent that was left inside your cheek from how much you've bit down on it. turning your palms over was a nightmare; your hands glistening with sweat from anticipation. you wanted to look the best. you wanted everything to be perfect.

you couldn't even remember how he ended up here; maybe you blocked it out. slightly tragic on your end, watching as your boyfriend was cuffed and put into the back of a cop car, the last thing you experienced together was your fingers loosely holding a cigarette for him. that feeling left you empty... and a bit sexually frustrated, due to the fact that he had promised to fuck you real good after his performance.

a masculine silhouette stood at the goddamned fence that you loathed, your eyes shooting up at the whirring sound of the mechanical fence sliding to the right, leaving the figure to leave. you let go of the cigarettes that laid in the cupholder, your slippery hands moving to unlock your car.

with a frustrated yell, you quickly wiped your hands on the seats on your car, restoring the dryness that easily helped you unlock your god forsaken car. you opened the door, ducking under the slight top ledge that you've hit your head on plenty of times. you were giddy like a child receiving their gifts on their birthday– squealing as you shut the door behind you and stood in front of the driver's side door, bouncing on the tips of your toes, and a smile spread across your face.

simon had that stupid smirk on his face, scruff all over his face, and his hair slightly grown out from the last time you saw him. he also had the same clothes on from the last time, the green jacket and black pants with the boots. it felt like the first time all over again, and god, that outfit made your pussy throb, and your knees were moments away from bucking and landing onto the dirt ground.

"didn't i tell you to get rid of that goddamn car? looks stupid, the ladybug print and all." simon said gruffly, a slight smirk creeping onto the corners of with lips, his siren-like eyes peering down at you.

you looked up at him with a slight pout and doe eyes, "i think it looks cute." you mumbled in defense. his eyes gleamed with a predatory look on you. cute, he thought. but what left his lips was just a mere scoff, his smirk turning into a smile... which was still somehow intimidating if you think about it.

"looks like a kiddie car, that's what it looks like." he taunted, making you playfully roll your eyes.

you huff, "i'm gonna punch you in the face... leave a black eye while i'm at it." your voice taunting, yet not really sincere. he only chuckled in response, "c'mere." he moved towards you, his lips swinging down to kiss yours, kissing away the pout that now disappeared.

his rough, big hands wandered towards your ass, gripping it with no intent of letting go. simon's kisses were one of a man deprived of lust and yearning, and he wasn't planning to let your breathe for air. his hands roamed around your backside, his feet pushing you back towards the silly-looking car, his right hand pulling at the door handle, swinging the door open.

simon's eyes opened from the kiss, his frustration growing from the lack of the backdoors your car had. he let out a groan, his lips unlatching from yours, his jaw clenching as he softly moved you aside, bringing the drivers seat forward so you two could hop in the back. his pants strained against his bulge, and the whine that left your lips made it even worse.

"give me a moment doll, your car is pissing me off." he grumbled, watching his head as he hopped into the small car, with you behind him, closing the door. he was sitting with his legs spread, you in front of him with little to no space at all, on your knees, which were already feeling rough from the material of the bottom the car.

you and simon made no time to push down your pants, his hands unbuckling the shiny belt that clinked once it unfastened from his waist, and your hands helped slide them down, his thick, long cock springing free, and you could've sworn your eye twitched at the sight. with the way he looked down at you and the non-existent space you left between your face and his cock, the feeling between your thighs released itself like a flood; your thighs pressing together in instinct.

"god, if you don't hurry it up, i might take matters into my own hands." he groaned out, swallowing dryly as his hands gripped at your hair; making you squeak out a quick 'sorry,' and your tongue quickly laid flat against the side of his cock; a hiss escaping simon's pretty lips. "fuck," he groaned.

you worked your way around his cock, your head bobbing up and down, trying your best to keep eye-contact with him as you bobbed. spit drooled down the sides of your mouth; the liquid pooling at the base of his cock, slowly sliding down his strained balls; the sounds of his grunts and low groans filling the small car.

he felt your right hand shift towards your sopping pussy; mewls leaving your lips as you rubbed your clit, heightening your senses, but also making you focus less on working his cock. simon noticed it, his grip on your hair turning into a makeshift lever, the control reeling to him as he started to guide your head up and down, his cock spearing at the back of your throat, hitting past the uvula. the feeling made you gag, spluttering more spit around his cock, the sight being messy as ever. he pulled your head from his cock, your right hand leaving your clit in response, and as your lips left his cock, it making you gasp out in air; your eyes watering from the intense throat-fuck that was definitely going to leave you sore, along with your poor legs that were soon to fall victim to his fucking.

"si, give me a moment–" you squealed, making simon laugh as he pulled you up onto his lap, laughter leaving from both your lips. "tryna get me put in jail again, doll? fuckin' in front of the prison i just got out of?" he smirked, his forehead touching yours.

"not my fault, si– oh!" you hum in response, which quickly turned into a gasp– which finally turned into a moan, his cock knowingly filling your tight walls. his hips piston upwards, his cock hitting the deepest part of your cunt. his hands held at your hips, guiding you up and down on his cock, creating a white, creamy ring around the base.

the car windows immediately fogged up, heat and sweat glistening on both your bodies, the occasional cocky laugh simon let out settled into your ears, making you shiver. your hips worked at a sensual speed, grinding and bouncing, alternating between the two, moans spilling from your lips.

his lips shut your moans up for a bit, before pulling away and murmuring, "so pretty bouncing on my cock, like the slut you are." he smiled against your shoulder, placing a kiss against it as he looked at you, babbling and panting. "feel that?" he whispered, pressing down on the bulge his cock made in your stomach, immediately making you start to crumble.

you looked at him, your hips started to falter and grow slower, your legs tired and your thighs shaking as the pressure built up, waiting to burst out. but you tried to keep your pace going, your hands on his chest as you whimpered.

your lips tried to form a sentence, only letting out broken words. "c–cum... i needa– hmph!" you cry out, feeling the vibrations of simon's chuckle. "can i–?" you whimpered, moments away from crying in frustration.

his lips captured yours once again, making you come undone. you came around his cock, clenching as your thighs tried to close at the feeling; high-pitched moans leaving your lips as you were sent into a fruitful bliss. "haah–! t-thank you, si!" you sigh, your hips stuttering, still lazily grinding, praying to god that simon finds his release, or you'd probably lose it.

simon groaned, nearing his release as he fucks up into you, your overstimulated pussy weeping and soaking. "m'gonna cum," he exhaled, and at his words– he came, but he planned to cum on your face, his hands making quick–but safe work, one shot of cum shooting inside your cunt, and when you blink, you're already on your knees, hot spurts of his warm cum hitting your face, your eyes closing. he let out a hoarse breath, "that was fuckin' tits," he laughed, hunched over. his cock started to soften, his hands making quick work and grabbed the cigarette pack and paper towel that sat inside the cup holder. he ripped a piece of paper towel, wiping your face... decently clean, but it was the effort that counted.

your eyes fluttered open to look at him, a smirk on his face as a lit cigarette hung from his lips, his rough hands cupping your face and stroking his thumb across your fucked-out cheeks. "you're one of a kind, y'know that?" he let out a sigh, fixing your clothes back on you, and pulling you up to straddle him again sharing a kiss, which tasted like cigarettes, but you didn't mind. you never had a problem with him and he never had a problem with you. the world revolved around you both and nobody else. his eyes twinkled at the sight of your eyes, and his face softened.

"ditto." you whispered, smiling.

#dinner in america #kyle gallner #kyle gallner x reader #simon dinner in america #simon dinner in america x reader #kyle gallner smut #simon dinner in america smut #smut #dinner in america 2020 #john q #john q x reader #simon dia #simon dia smut #simon x reader #dinner in america smut #this might be too niche idk LMAOOO #wrote smut after 5 million years GOD it feels good

2K notes · View notes

koosluvss · 4 months ago

Text

“Say it” - jjk fic

—“Look how good we’d be together ____, we look so fuckin’ good together hmm? Say it baby..”

you always looks forward to having date night with your boyfriend Yejoon. You guys have been together for a little over and year and after him being so busy with work he finally takes you on a date. You’ve been spending most of your time with Jungkook, your best friend. Never in your whole life would you have ever thought that you’d be sitting at a table with your boyfriend while your best friends cum drips down your leg.

pairing :: bsf,jk!! + fem-oc!!

genre :: smut ‼️ (little angst if you really think about it when someone confesses 🤫)

wc :: 3.2k

warnings :: cheating oc!! lying, sorta public sex (?) confession, cursing, not choking but hand wrapped around throat, boob play, oral sex (f receiving) protected sex! (birth control), cumming inside ☺️

hello everyone! this is just a random story I wrote that I wanted to post on here. I hope you guys enjoy it and if you have any ask’s please feel free to ask me!

𖧐𐮚~~~~~~~~~~~~~~𖧐𐮚~~~~~~•

“Jungkook for the last fucking time I am not about to ditch Yejoon just to hang out with you” I said to the phone that is sitting on the edge of my vanity as I do some finishing touches to my makeup

“Come on ____! You know you wanna see me right now” I heard him say from the other side of the phone, his smile clearly being heard in his voice. I rolled my eyes and picked up the phone so that I could check if my boyfriend had texted me about our date

“I have to leave my house soon, Yejoon gonna pick me up in a bit” I said before tapping the facetime screen and seeing Jungkook look at me through the screen with a small pout on his face. “Get rid of the pout Jeon” I said and he rolled his eyes at me

“Pleasee ____? I haven’t seen you in so long” He said in his whiny tone, I shook my head at him before getting up from my vanity chair and picking up a pair of my black heels that will go with the black dress that I am wearing

“I have to go Jungkook, we can hang out some other day. Byee!” I said giving him a small wave before I hung up the call. I put on the heels that I chose out and I looked at myself through the body mirror that I have in my bathroom. As soon as I left the bathroom I heard a soft knock on my apartment door. I swung the door open and I was greeted with the sight of my boyfriend

“Hi baby” he said as a soft smile was placed upon his lips before he held out a bouquet of flowers for me. I quickly grabbed them and gave him a hug and placed a small kiss on his lips.

“I missed you” I said as my own smile started to form on my lips as I saw him look me up and down. He placed a hand on my hip before he led me out of my apartment and towards his car.

“You look so pretty tonight, I love this dress on you” I heard him say as he opened his car door for me like the gentleman he is. I quickly step in and he shuts the door when he sees that I'm in and about to buckle up. He gets into the car and starts to drive us to dinner, our car ride is filled with small talk and little giggles here and there. My eyes sparkle as I see the view of the beautiful restaurant that has a lake view behind it. Yejoon parks the car before he gets out and opens my door. He held his hand out and helped me get out before we both walked towards the restaurant. When we walk in Yejoon goes to talk to the waiter about the reservation that he’s made. Once we both get seated, I finally take in the beauty of this place. We sat next to the huge window which gives us access to the view of the lake that has the lights reflected over it.

“This place is so beautiful, Yejoon, thank you for taking me here” I said, giving him a soft smile before I looked over to the table next to us and saw another couple holding hands and looking at each other with love. Yejoon and I talk for a bit while our waiter comes up to us and gives us some wine and takes our orders before leaving us alone. I hear my phone vibrate next to me and I pick it up to look at who's texting me. ‘Jungkook- Go to the bathroom’ I look at my phone with a confused expression on my face. I excuse myself and Yejoon simply nods at me before I grab my bag and make my way to the bathroom. Once I get to the bathroom I simply stand in the hallway before I get my phone and right as I’m about to dial his number I feel a light tap on my shoulder. I jumped slightly before I turned around and was greeted with the sight of Jungkook’s warm smile

“Hi baby” he said mocking Yejoon’s voice as I rolled my eyes at his ridiculous behavior. Just as I’m about to say something to him I feel him drag me into the family bathroom. He locks the door behind himself before I turn around at stare at him

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked him as I placed my bag on the sleek marble counter, I crossed my arms before I continued to stare him down. He looks so fucking good right now, he always does. I would almost feel bad for the way I’m looking at my best friend while my boyfriend is outside waiting for me to join him at the table again. He walks toward me and leans against the counter giving me another one of his famous smiles that shout ‘you know you can’t be angry at me’

“I told you I missed you and I wanted to hang out no?” He said simply before he himself looks me up and down, I notice him briefly looking at my hips before he brings his eyes back up to mine

“Jungkook, I’m having dinner with my boyfriend right no-”

“No you’re not because I'm standing right here and I wasn’t at the table with you” he says, cutting me off. I feel my cheeks turn red as he says that and I look down at the floor. His finger hooks under my chin before he leans my head back up so I’m still looking at him. “What’s wrong? Got my baby all flustered for me?” I heard him say before giving me a slight smirk

“Why are you here?” I said pushing on his chest gently so that there could be some space in between both of our bodies. I see him tilt his head at me and a fake ass pout sat on top of his pretty pink lips that are decorated with two silver hoops on his lower lip

“Are you saying you didn’t miss me at all?” he says, stepping closer towards me so that the space between us is closed. Clearly not liking the distance between us

“No I didn’t, I was with Yejoon. Why would I think of you?” I say and I see him eyeing my lips before they make there way back up to my eyes

“That’s a shame because while you’re over here enjoying your night with your boyfriend I’m over here dying. You take up all my headspace, I was thinking about what you were wearing, what you would get, where he is going to take you, and why you are with such a shame of a man and not with me.” I heard him say while I felt his hand gently caress my cheek

“Jungkook, what?” I said with confusion written all over my face

“____ baby, you can’t possibly think that you should settle for him” he said while he looked in my eyes as he only saw pure confusion in them, “Wow you really are dumb”

“Excuse me?” I said before I felt his hand drop from my cheek to my hip. I know it’s wrong and I should probably tell him to stop and get his hands off me but at the moment everything just felt right. His hands on me and both of our bodies pressed together just felt right. I felt his breath gently brush against my lips and I just felt like melting in his hold. His hand grabbed mine and he placed it on top of his chest just enough so that I could feel the faint feeling of his heart beat.

“You feel this ____? This is because of you, I'm only for you. You have me whipped for you and I just have to sit back and watch as you blindly fall in love with this asshole. It hurts me because I have to see you fall in love with someone who isn’t me. I beg you to be by my side so often because it just feels so complete to me, you complete me” He said softly as I felt his heart beat on the palm of my hand quicken. I look at him in shock as he looks down at me with his soft brown eyes filled with pure emotion. “So please ____, choose me. Let me be the man who shows you love and affection. I’m sick of having to tell myself I can’t have you because I know I can and I will” He says, his hand lets go of mine and I feel him brush some hair out of my face.

“Jungkook, I can’t, and you know it too I love him” I said softly as I felt my heart ache as I heard his confession

“No you don’t” He simply says to me before he cups my face in his hands gently. “You can love me and you do it’s just you don’t want to tell yourself that”

“Jungkook, I love him” I said as I felt some tears fill my eyes. My own mind is filled with confusion as I keep thinking if I really see myself with Yejoon. As I think of him Jungkook is the only name thats pops up in my head

“If you truly loved him you wouldn’t let your bestfriend hold you and confess his love to you huh?” He said as I felt his face inch closer to me. He had me stuck, I didn’t know what to say. It was like I’m intoxicated with him. I feel his lips touch mine and that's all it took until my mind is completely made. I love my best friend, I always have. His hands dropped from my face down to holding my hips and my own arms snake up to wrap around his neck. I felt him let out a slight smile against my lips before he picked me up. My legs wrapped around his waist as I felt him place me on top of the marble counter, our kiss never breaking. His lips found their way down to my jawline then slowly trailed down to my neck, his hot breath hitting my neck felt like heaven to me

“Fuck kook” I breathed out as I felt him gently suck the sensative skin behind my ear. His hand trailed their way down from my hips so that they are now resting on both of my thighs. His fingers hook onto the bottom of my dress before he looks up at me to see if I was okay with him doing this. I let out a slow nod then I felt him lift my dress up enough so that my lacy panties were exposed to his eyes. He went on his knees before placing gentle kisses on the insides of my thighs causing me to bite my lip gently, I watched as he slowly made his way up to my covered pussy, my wetness was starting to leak out through the thin material of my panties. Jungkook let out a soft smile before he placed a soft kiss over my covered heat

“So wet for me hm?” He said softly against me before his finger moved my panties to the side so that he had full access to me. I felt him press a soft kiss against my clit which caused a soft moan to escape from my lips. His tongue dipped into my folds and I felt him suck my clit teasingly then letting his tongue fuck my pussy. My hands find their way to his head, I let my fingers get tangled in his hair before I bite my lip and I try to maintain my moans so that they are quiet enough not to be heard outside of the bathroom door. My head falls back as I feel Jungkook’s tongue lap in my pussy. I always knew Jungkook had a past of being so good at sex that he had girls begging and crying for him to come back to them, each and everyone getting rejected. I had even thought of what it would feel like to fuck him or even just have him eat me out. All those thoughts went away once I started to date Yejoon. (sort of)

Jungkook pulled away from my pussy, his chin glistening with my wetness and he smiled at me before he stood up. “Get off the counter, I’ve been waiting so long to be able to fuck you” He said as I jumped off the counter before he turned me around and fully took off my panties letting them fall to the floor. He lifts up my dress higher so that it wouldn’t get in our way. I feel him take his belt and black jeans off before I could feel the clear outline of his hard cock rubbing against my ass. “Shit, I don’t have any protection” He said from behind me

“We don’t need it, I'm on the pill” I said and looked at him through the mirror, a slick smirk placed upon his lips before I heard him take his boxers off. His hand held my waist while the other held his cock and aligned it with my entrance

“Baby if you ever want to stop just let me know, you’re in control” I heard him say while making eye contact with me through the mirror. He gave me a soft smile then he pushed his cock inside of me

“Oh shit” I moaned out once I felt him fully enter me. He lets out a soft groan while his grip on my hips tightens. My mouth fell open in ecstasy once I felt him thrust into me, it felt as if I was being brought into heaven

“Fuck ____, you’re so tight” He said while his head got thrown back as he continued to thrust into me at a erotic pace. I felt him bring the top of my dress down a little, enough so that my boobs spill out, Jungkook quickly grabbed one of my breasts and played with it in his tattooed hand. Quiet moans escaped my lips as He continued to fuck himself into me. His free hand wrapped around my throat before he pulled my body up so that I’m looking into the mirror. I could almost cum at the sight of him fucking himself into my pussy, his long fingers grabbing and playing with the sensitive skin of my breasts. “Look how good we’d be together ____, we look so fuckin’ good together hmm? Say it baby” He said before I felt his grip slightly tighten around my throat. I try to form a sentence but the only thoughts that come into my head are about how good he’s making me feel. I hear him chuckle in my ear with his deep sexy voice, his lips place soft kisses on my shoulder and up to my neck. “Awe, look at how pretty you look struggling to answer me, getting all brain dead while getting fucked with my dick” He said in my ear before he let go of my neck and let his hand fall down to my clit as he began to rub it slowly. “I want you to look at yourself while you cum for me hm?” I nodded at him before my back arched against his back, a louder moan escaped my lips as I felt a knot in my stomach form.

“Kook, im gonna-” I tried to warm him but I just couldn’t, I looked at myself and saw my face all sweaty and my cheeks a bright red color

“Cum baby, I wanna feel you cum around my dick” He said before letting out another soft groan as he continued to rub my clit. I do exactly as he says. After a few thrusts I come undone while he continues to thrust into me. My mouth fell open and my head fell back so that it was resting on his shoulder. Not so long after I felt his thrusts grow sloppy and he came inside of me. Once he pulled out he turned me around and placed a loving kiss to my lips. “God, I love you so much” He whispered against my lips before he helped me clean myself up

“Jungkook,” I said softly as I watched him put his clothes back on after he helped me fix myself so that Yejoon wouldn’t know anything about what just happened. He looked up at me, his soft eyes meeting mine again as he finished buckling his belt. “I love you, I don’t want this to end” I said and he smiled at me before walking towards me putting some hair behind my ear while placing a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“You think I’d just quit on you after I confessed to you? Hell no” He said before letting out a light laugh looking at me with admiration in his eyes. “We can talk about us when you go home later okay baby?” He said pulling away from me, I quickly nodded at him before I saw him exit the bathroom door. I felt a little piece of me disappear as I saw him walk away from me. I look at the mirror and quickly fix some of my makeup before I walk out to Yejoon again.

“Hey there you are! I thought you ran away from me” He says chuckling at me as he takes a bite of his steak. Damn we took so long that the food already came. I sat down in my chair and gave him a fake smile placing my bag down next to me

“Sorry my aunt was going through something and I needed to help her through it” I said laughing awkwardly before I took a bite out of my now cold food. I heard my phone ding, I picked it up and saw a notification from Jungkook. ‘Jungkook- Now that I think about it, you never answered me when I asked if we looked good together. Now I wanna hear you say it.’ I looked up and saw Jungkook standing near the exit looking down at his phone with a small smirk. I ignored his text and took another bite of my food. Ding. I let out a scoff before I opened my phone again and saw another text from him. ‘Jungkook- Don’t ignore me. Say it.’ I giggled quietly to his text before I typed back, ‘- Don’t be an idiot, of course we look amazing together.’ I typed back and I turned off my phone before I saw Yejoon looking at me

“Was that your aunt?” He asked

“Yeah she was just telling me some funny story of my uncle, I’ll tell you later” I said before taking another bite of my food

“I love you ____, you’re such a perfect woman I don’t know what I would do without you” he said smiling at me brightly

“Me too baby” I said, forcing another smile at him as I felt Jungkook's cum slowly make its way down my leg. “So much”

𖧐𐮚~~~~~~~~~~~~~~𖧐𐮚~~~~~~•

Okay guys thank you so much for reading. This was my first time writing smut so I really hope that I did okay 😓 like I’ve said before thank you so much for reading and I’ll post again soon!

- koosluvss

1K notes · View notes

woniiez · 9 days ago

Text

ᴛɪʟʟ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ᴇɴᴅꜱ | ₗ.ₕₛ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢꜱ. brothers bestfriend! heeseung x fem!reader

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ. You were sleeping when jay started banging on your door “y/n heeseung is gonna stay with us for the summer”. Lee heesung, your brothers best friend and the boy you’ve had a crush on since you saw him 5 years ago in your living room.

|| ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ. 4-6k (wrote this on my phone so i have no idea, tried to check it but it kept giving me different word counts)

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ. smut, brothers bestfriend.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ. nsfw! smut lmk if there’s anything else.

(hii this is the first fic I’ve ever written, I obviously have a long way to go lmao but I hope you like it. This was written with really less detail and not too many complications something simple I guess. There might be a few spelling mistakes or the paragraph formation is messed up so bear with me on that 🙏🏻. Since this is the first time I’ve written it’s not really fully “fic coded” you could say Ig but I’ll learn in time, it could be different writing wise from a proper fic.Anyways I hope you enjoy and if you have any questions regarding this or anything else lmk.)

————————————————————

You’ve never really talked to Heeseung much. He comes over a lot but jay doesn’t let you hang out with them much, it doesn’t really bother you much but what did bother you was when jay started banging on your door to wake you up on a weekend at 8am to tell you “ Y/N!! Heeseung is gonna stay with us for the summer”

You couldn’t wait for summer break to come but now you’re grateful there’s still a week left.

you RAN to karina’s house which thankfully was next door. She was obviously still asleep.

“Karinaaa!! WAKE UPPP” you say while pulling the blinds up, “y/n it’s 8am please I haven’t slept all night” karina said while pulling the blanket over her face

“I need to tell you something. ” you looked at her with a very serious face waiting for her to sit up “yes y/n goodmorning to you too” you smiled at her and murmured goodmorning back “ok get this jay said Lee heeseung is gonna stay at ours for the summer..the WHOLE summer!” You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding. You waited for her to say something She looked at you like you ate her cat or something, she really is cranky in the morning “can you say something why are you looking at me like that” she took a breath in and out. Oh no u hate when she does that, it feels like she’s going to pounce on you “y/n..is this what you wanted to tell me so badly to wake me up at 8am on a Sunday?” She said in a calm and low tone. You just looked at her as u blinked slowly and nodded slowly, she wasn’t having any of it “y/n it’s not a big deal it’s just heesung and jay is best friends with him you literally see him everyday” well that was true but she didn’t know about the crush you had on him, you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell her.“This is gonna be a looongg summer” you thought to yourself.

It was the first day of summer.

As you woke up the golden sunlight peeked though your blinds, casting stripes across the room. Making you think “it’s finally summer” you smile to yourself. You yawn as you watch the dust particles flying around the window.

You threw your blanket away from you and went to freshen up exited for the summer. You tie your bikini around your hips and back, then throw on an oversized shirt and some jean shorts.

You walked down the stairs each step filled with excitement, thinking about everything you were gonna do this summer with karina, going to places we’ve never been or just hanging out in your backyard. You took a deep sniff smelling waffles from the kitchen. The smell of the batter, the sound of the waffle maker, and fresh maple. You ran to the kitchen to see jay cooking. You love your brothers cooking especially his waffles it’s something he only makes it in the summer. “Jayy you’re making waffles?!!!!???!” You said giggling

and grinning, doing a silly dance “when I met you in the summerrrrr~~” you sang as a smile spreads on jays face. He hums with you.

“Sit down y/n 5 minutes more” he said looking back at you raising his eyebrows. You were walking around the wall to sit on the counter and suddenly you saw heesung sitting on the chair “WHA-“ you were totally surprised and feeling like an idiot since you just sang and danced and HEESEUNG SAW YOU. You completely forgot he was supposed to be here.

You feel your cheeks heat up as you try to laugh the embarrassment off. You looked up at heeseung who was already looking at you up and down. With a slight smirk on his face he tilted his head to the side. “What’s up?”

he said. His tone is relaxed and raspy. You feel so small in his presence , you feel your cheeks burn and u look up at him “hey I heard you’re staying here for the summer”you say trying to relax your voice, you sit down on the chair next to him and look up at him waiting for an answer “mhm” that’s all he says. You think if you’re going see him the whole summer you need to get to know him better atleast. You tilt your head and ask,“Can I ask why?” Your eyebrows raise in curiosity and a gentle smile forms on your lips showing you’re genuinely interested, before he said anything jay came up to the counter and sets the waffles in front of you with a light frown he glances at you and says “y/n don’t bother him” his eyes meet yours and he slightly smiles. Heeseung takes a waffles and puts it on his plate, jay walks away to get the ice cream he looks over at you but you were already looking at him, you look away “im moving to New York after the summer cause of my dads work” he says,his tone relaxed. He shrugs, his eyes glancing away for a moment. “he’s already there so I’m staying here till I leave” he lets out a light laugh and takes a bite of the waffle. You look at him, your heart skipping a beat at the news. A mix of surprise and a touch of sadness washes over your face. “New York, huh? That’s a big change,” you say, trying to keep your tone light despite the flutter of emotions inside. You bite your lip, thinking about why you feel sad you barely know him?!. “Are you excited about it?” you ask, your eyes searching his, hoping to catch a glimpse of his feelings. He shrugs a bit. “I’m not really worried” he says nonchalantly. Not wanting to show too much emotion you take a bite of the waffle “oh okay” you said kind of sad but you think jay might be really sad since they’ve been best friends since they were 10.

It’s been about 2 weeks since you talked to heeseung. Even though you’re living together there’s not much interaction between you too, well there are moments when you’re going out in your prettiest clothes and he undresses you with his eyes. You try to ignore it as much as you can, you can’t betray jay like that no matter how much you want to right?

Eventually you decide invite Karina over and take a swim in the pool. The cool water feels refreshing, and the familiar scent of chlorine surrounds you, bringing a sense of comfort. As you float on your back, Karina asks you a shocking question “do you like heesung”she says looking at you with her eye brows raised and crossed arms. “Karin-“ you pause cause heesung is standing at the backyard door by the pool. Did he hear what she said? You’re just looking at him with a confused expression. Karina looks back and smirks to herself. You can’t help but say something,it’s getting awkward “hey Heeseung do u wanna swim?” You ask, Karina noticed how your voice sounds way different from when you both talk. He scratches the back of his neck and says “yea can I?” Looking between Karina and you. You try to communicate with Karina through your eyes “ofc you can” she says with a smirk on her face as she looks at you, you look at her with a confused face as you raise your eye brow asking what she was doing. Heeseung walks towards the pool and slowly with a confidence smirk he pulled off his shirt, his toned body revealing itself to you. You flinched at the sight, you thought how it would feel if he was on top of you and you touch his toned abs..

Suddenly water hit you and you fell of your floaty into the water “what the hell!” You looked at Karina thinking she did that but you heard deep chuckles coming from the side, it was Heeseung “sorry didn’t mean to do that, just diving” he shrugs and looks you up and down like he’s ready to undress you “oh yeah btw there’s a party here tonight” he said. You looked at him in confusion since your parents are home. He continues “oh um jay told me to tell you, your parents have to go to a wedding” you tell him you’re going inside to talk to your mom and jay. You get up and wrap yourself in a towel, by now you think heesung has a staring problem.

You take a shower, change and head down with Karina.

You see jay helping your mom pack you walk into the room “mom where are you going” you ask since everyone knows except you.

“Y/n honey me and your dad have a wedding to attend it’s in the next town so we’ll be back in the morning” you tell her to be safe, you look at Karina and smile looking forward to the party. “Jay take care of y/n and don’t do anything stupid” she looks between you and jay, you put your hands up.

As soon as your parents leave jay picks up his phone and starts calling people over. Since it is your last year why not have a party.

You walk up to jay as he’s wearing his watch he looks over at you “soo who did you invite” you ask out of curiosity since he didn’t tell you about the party which is in YOUR house. He looks at you smiling “anyone and everyone” he winks. You wonder what’s gonna happen tonight your head already hurts. You weren’t really into parties, just going if your friends invited you or when you need to get your mind off something. But tonight it’s someone. Jay looks at you thinking to yourself and says “y/n I’ll keep an eye out for you tonight” you already know what that means. Jay isn’t much of an over protective brother but when it comes to his friends or guys in general getting involved with you, he hates it. Since they’re not someone he fully trusts.

As you get ready in your room, the sounds of the party downstairs filter through the door. Muffled laughter and music. Making your heart race with anticipation. You can hear the clinking of glasses and the cheerful chatter. As you finish your final touches, someone knocks on your door “come in!”

You look at the door as it opens and it’s heeseung hes wearing a black Prada button up with black pants he looks. Your heart skips a beat you blink, he stands there effortlessly attractive. You can’t help but admire his face shape the way his body fits in his clothes, how his jawline is shaped perfectly his eyes are captivating.

Closing the door behind him he walks towards you with a knowing smirk leans down to your ear and whispers “baby you’re staring”. You’re taken aback, you take a step back but he still walk towards you. “I think you’re the one with a staring problem hee” you say fixing the collar of his shirt, he’s chuckles shocked by the sudden nickname and confidence. He presses you again your closet behind you and he slowly puts his thumb over your lips. Before he can do anything else the door opens and you push him away.

It’s jay he looks between both of you “uhm Lee let’s go Jake’s calling you” he says while looking at you. You feel trapped not knowing what to do. Heeseung winks at you secretly and heads back down. Jay raises his eye brow “y/n what the fuck don’t you remember what I told you” he says in a low and angry voice though you can tell he’s hurt. You try to say something with your heart racing, you try to scan jays face but he just walks away.

You walk down after fixing your lipstick. You spot Karina with some of your old classmates and join them.

The party is in full swing when you find yourself in the kitchen, pouring drinks for your friends. Suddenly, Heeseung appears beside you, leaning against the counter with that trademark smirk. “Need any help?” he asks, his voice low and teasing. You nod, trying to ignore the way your stomach flips at his proximity.

As the night progresses, the atmosphere becomes more charged. Laughter and music fill the air, but you can’t shake the feeling that something is about to change. You catch Heesung watching you from across the room, his gaze intense, and you feel a pull toward him that you can’t resist.

Later, as the party continues, you find yourself in a quieter corner of the house, away from the noise. Heeseung follows you, the tension between you crazy. “It’s crazy how we’re both here together,” he says, stepping closer. The air feels thick with unspoken words, and before you know it, he puts his hand on your waist leaning in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss.

Your heart races as you kiss him back, the kiss getting deeper. The world around you fading away. You know you shouldn’t be doing this, but it feels too right to stop. Just as the kiss deepens, you hear your brother laughing, pulling you back to reality.

You break apart, breathless, and heesung looks at you with a mix of desire and uncertainty. “We can’t do this baby,” he whispers, but the way he looks at you says otherwise. The party goes on, but in that moment, everything changes. You kiss him again and deepen the kiss.

As you pull away from the kiss, your heart races,his forehead on yours. You glance toward the living room where the party is still in full swing. You can hear your brother laughing with friends, completely unaware of the moment that just unfolded between you and heesung.

“Maybe we should go back,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, still feeling the warmth of his lips on yours. Heeseung nods, but there’s still hesitation in his eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asks, searching your face for confirmation. His hands go up and down your waist. The last thing you both want to do is betray jay, but you can’t help it after liking him for so long.

“I don’t know,” you admit, biting your lip. “But we can’t let anyone see us like this.” You take a step back, trying to regain some composure, but heesung reaches out, gently pulling you back toward him.

“Then let’s keep it our little secret for now,” he suggests, a mischievous glint in his eyes. His hands back on your waist moving upwards. You nod, the thrill of secrecy making your heart race even faster. You both go back into the party agreeing on keeping this a secret.

As the night progresses, you and heeseung have moments together, glances across the room, whispered conversations in corners, and the occasional touch that sends sparks through your body. The chemistry between you is undeniable, but you’re also acutely aware of your brother’s presence, and the potential consequences of your actions.

At one point, you find yourselves outside on the patio, where the sounds of the party fade into the background. The night sky is dotted with stars, and the cool breeze contrasts with the heat radiating between you.

“Do you think he’d be mad?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. Heeseungs expression softens as he considers your question.

“I don’t know,” he replies honestly. “But I don’t want to hide this if it means something.” His words send a thrill through you, you’ve wanted heesung for such a long time but the thought of your brother’s reaction hangs in the back of your mind.

As everyone starts leaving it’s already 2am and jay is extremely drunk. You ask heesung to put him to bed.

You’re sitting in on your bed still wearing your black mini dress when the door opens and closes with a bang. It’s heesung he’s charging towards you suddenly he gets on top of you. You’re just looking into his eyes looking for something but they’re just filled with desire. As you’re about to say something he puts his lips on yours capturing them into a kiss.

It starts of slow, he sits against the headboard and you climb on top of him, your knees on the sides of his thighs. He pulls you in again for a deep kiss, he puts his hands on your waist tightening them. They way yours and his lips are moving next to each other feels unreal, he pulls you even closer towards him, you release low moans now needing him as close as possible. As the kiss gets heated you feel his tongue licking your self asking to go in, you let his tongue enter and explore your mouth he groans. He puts his hand on your zipper, you look at him and nod.

He quickly takes it off and looks at your perky boobs “so fucking sexy baby” he looks like he wants to eat you. You gasp when he takes one of your nipples in his mouth “hee-“ and swirls his tongue around,he gives the other one attention aswell taking it in his hands god. His hand goes down to your clothed core as he starts rubbing over it. “Hee please” you cried out, “please what pretty, say it” he whispered

You moaned and squirmed against his hard cock, making him hiss “baby u need to stop moving”.

He laid you against your back and started placing kisses all over your neck and breasts making you breathe heavily. As he placed kisses all over your body he reached your wet core. He took his shirt off revealing his toned body you started kissing him everywhere until It all went too fast when you suddenly felt a hot wet sensation licking your pussy slow. Your eyes rolled back, feeling hee’s tongue going deep in your pussy and sucking on your bud. Your moans could no longer be held back, letting them out freely for everyone to hear.

“H-hee ah- wait!” You cried out feeling your orgasm coming faster than you thought since it’s been 2 minutes. Heeseung didn’t stop, feeling your pussy tighten and open and before he knew it too, his tongue was getting covered by your juices. He licked his lips while looking at you, you thought you could look at him like this forever.

As he takes his pants off with his underwear you look at him surprised at how big he is. You gulped.

Heeseung notices your expression and smirks “you ready baby?” You nod aggressively not wanting to wait another second.

He kissed you everywhere complimenting every little thing, he leaned over and positioned his dick at your whole and slowly pushed it in. “HEE! Fuck” you moan, he thought you looked so pretty with your mascara running down your face because of him.

“Fuck baby you’re so tight” he groaned

You let out a ragged breath feeling him in you. He felt so big and you felt so full. Heesung looked at you asking if he could move “u-h you can move” heeseung nodded and moved slowly watching your face as you roll your eyes back in pleasure.

That’s when he started moving faster, you both were a moaing mess. Panting against each other.

Heeseung groaned feeling you squeeze against him, he could feel his orgasm coming.

You felt your orgasm coming as he went in and out “f-uck hee im cu-ming” you moaned and closed your eyes as it came over.

Heeseung thrusting in deeper while you got off your high. He let out a raspy laugh.

You both were breathing heavily after he came and laid down with you. “that was-“ you said panting

“great. “ heeseung looked at you and kissed you once more before he got up and got a towel from the bathrooms and cleaned you up before laying back down.

“Hee?” You said laying down on his arm. “Yeah baby?” He pulled you closer under the blanket “when will you leave for New York?” You said. Your voice not above a whisper, he looked at your sad expression and put a strand of hair behind your ear “I told my dad already im not leaving”he said. You sat up holding the blanket to your chest, “wait really?!” You said smiling so big it hurt. “Yea. “ he said. Hugging you tightly. “I love you hee” you said looking into his sparkly eyes as u pecked him on the cheek “I love you too baby”. He kissed you back.

The sun was out ask you opened your eyes, you rubbed your eyes the memories of last night came flooding back into your mind and you couldn’t believe that actually happened. A smile crept onto your face.

You felt heeseung holding you tightly by the waist. You shifted to look at him, he looked so pretty while sleeping as well. You started tracing his lips and his nose even his eyes. He started blinking and smiled “goodmorning” he said, his morning voice so raspy and attractive. “Morning” you giggled and put your face into his neck.

You suddenly pulled back hearing your door open. “y/n wake uppp!” It was jay.

He stood there looking at both of you naked under the blanket.

He started blinking in disbelief.

Heeseung tried to cover you with his body which made you laugh.

You totally forgot you were in the same house as jay through all that.

Jay just walked out. You looked at heeseung confused why jay didn’t punch anyone. You and heesung got dressed and went down to the kitchen to talk to jay.

You both sat on the chairs in front of the counter where jay was making breakfast.

You started “jay uh.. can we talk” you felt like you’ve betrayed your brother big time, your mind had a lot of things to say but you need to tell him the truth first.

Jay looked back at you with his eye brows furrowed he nodded letting you know to go on but before you could heeseung started talking “look man im sorry it happened this way, I never wanted to hurt you or y/n” he lets out heavy breathing.

You could see how hard this is for heeseung because this is his only one friendship he cares about.

Jay looks at him very angrily “if you didn’t want to hurt me you shouldn’t have done this” he said in a higher voice as he crossed his arms. You felt bad for heeseung for getting the blame “jay it’s not his fault I also wanted too” you say searching jays eyes for something but they were just empty “y/n I know and that’s what I hate more, I told you so many times not t-“

You didn’t let him finish and told him the truth. “I love him” you say.

Heesung hold your hand and jay looks at heesung for an answer. “I love her aswell” Heeseung says in a very straightforward and sincere tome. Jay turns his back, you both give him some time to think. He turns back and sets breakfast up he glances over to both of you “Heeseung you better treat her right or she’ll have to witness your funeral” jay said while smiling as he hugged heesung. You looked at Jay with a smile “im sorry and thank you” you hugged him back.

In the evening you invited Karina over for a barbecue your dad was hosting. You told her everything.

She was really happy for you.

After the barbecue ended all of you jumped into the pool.

Heeseung pulled you to him and gave you a peck on your lips he whispered “I love you” you giggled and splashed water on him.

————————————————————

#enhypen smut #enhypen fic #enhypen x reader #heeseung #enhypen #enhypen hard hours #kpop #enha x reader #enha fics #enhypen hard thoughts #heesung imagines #heeseung smut #lee heeseung #lee heeseung x reader #heeseung hard thoughts

919 notes · View notes

baby-yongbok · 8 months ago

Text

Cam Star

Camboy!Hyunjin x Camgirl!Reader

♡ Genre - Smut ♡ Word Count - 10k ✧ Masterlist ✧

♡ Summary - You haven’t seen Hyunjin since the CamStar convention but he’s been on your mind and you’ve been on his. Today’s the day of your collaboration with him, a spicy show for hundreds to watch but the cam is the last thing on your mind.

♡ A/N: I started this as soon as I saw that gif of Hyunjin on live. I wrote this based on one of the many thoughts that gif brought me but it took me FOREVER to complete this. I'm glad that I can at least post it on his birthday! This is the longest fic I've written on this account and I'm proud of it. I hope that you enjoy! 💕+ reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ MDNI

♡ Warnings: Use of marijuana and alcohol, Foot worship/play, unprotected piv, exhibitionism? - That should be all, let me know if I missed any!

You’ve had a month to prepare for tonight's plans. Everything around you is perfect, your sheets are soft and clean. Your set is lit to perfection and the new matching co-ords that you're sporting for tonight's show were picked out carefully by you and your best friend, Felix, who happens to be a close friend of tonight's guest. You’ve confided in your friend for weeks about your guest's preferences to try and calm your nerves but he didn’t tell you anything that you didn’t already know.

You would think that maintaining a spot as one of the top five creators on CamStar for two years would make you feel more like a seasoned professional but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Every time that you think about the fact that you’re about to collaborate with Hyunjin, one of the top three male creators on the site, you want to scream and kick your feet like a flustered school girl. Hyunjin is the epitome of beauty, that might sound a bit extreme but it’s true. He’s captivating and shameless with what he does, always begging the chat to let him cum and making such intense and sexy eye contact with the lens that you feel like you’re right there with him. You’ve gotten off to his cams more times than you’d ever admit to him and according to Felix his friend has done the same to yours.

The mirror would be sick of seeing you if it were a person because here you are standing in front of it for the hundredth time tonight brushing off your short shorts and pulling up your tube top. The deep golden yellow fabric is nearly see through against you and you can’t help but to think that maybe you should change. Maybe this is too much? I mean yeah you’re about to be naked on camera for others across the internet to see and you’re more than comfortable in this outfit but what if Hyunjin doesn’t like it? Felix said that he thinks that his friend will go speechless when he sees you but what if he’s wrong? What if - oh fuck, he’s here.

The echo of the doorbell through your living room leaves you frozen for a second too long before you break into a soft jog over to your front door. You slide across the hardwood with your fuzzy pineapple print socks and take a deep breath as you twist the knob. There he is. Your eyes meet his for a second and you both smile as you take each other in. He’s chosen his usual laid back attire for tonight's show as you expected. His oversized Hilfiger t-shirt and black cargo sweats don't surprise you one bit but you seemed to have caught him a bit off guard with your choice of threads tonight.

“Hey, you’re early.” Hyunjin stares at you, wide eyed and silent for a second too long before he’s clearing his throat and lifting his gaze from your bare thighs to your eyes.

“Yeah, I uh - roads were clearer than I thought.” You step aside, inviting him in and you can feel the nervous pit in your stomach deepen as he brushes past you.

“I told you they would be.” Once he slips his shoes off and drops his bag at the door the two of you stand in awkward silence as you steal glances and open and close your mouths for what feels like an eternity.

“It’s uh- good to see you.” He leans in for a hug, wrapping his arms around your waist and you follow his lead, lacing your arms around his neck as you sigh.

“We’re being such losers right now.” The vibration of his chuckle as he pulls away brings a smile to your face.

“Can you blame me? I haven’t seen you in what? Five months? Maybe six.” You hum, making your way over to your couch and plopping down onto the soft cherry red cushion.

“Six months, yeah. I mean, we’ve kinda kept in touch since the convention.”

“Commenting on instagram photos and retweeting posts do not count as keeping in touch and you know it.” A blush creeps across your cheeks as he sits next to you, elbows resting on his knees and that damned smirk on his lips. It’s the same one that he uses during his livestreams, the same one that you’ve cum to over and over again.

“Yeah I know, I know.” You cross your legs underneath you, turning towards him. “You dyed your hair?”

“Yeah, wanted to do something different. I haven’t gone live with it yet so tonight will be the debut for this look.”

“I’m honored that you’ve chosen to debut it with me.” Your fingers rake through his soft locks as you take in the new cut.

“Of course, Princess.” The fact that you aren’t gasping for air right now and appear to be keeping your cool is actually magic. Pure witchcraft, honestly. How can someone make a pet name sound so good? “I need to get used to calling you that so I don’t say your name on cam.”

Your blush deepens as you stare down at his lap. Right, you forgot that you go by Princess when you’re on cam. He’s only calling you that cause that’s what you go by, gosh are you that down bad already?

“I don’t have to change much, Jinnie.” You sing his name a bit and he smiles at the sound of it.

“You’re lucky that I go by my name or else you’d have to moan something outlandish like Your Majesty or something.” You fall into a laughing fit, falling onto his shoulder dramatically for support. “Maybe I’ll have you call me that since you seem to enjoy it so much.”

His laugh mirrors yours as he watches you, your head resting on his shoulder with your eyes shut and your mouth hung open as you try to catch your breath. He’s never heard a prettier laugh in his life, he swears it. “Please do not make me call you that I won’t be able to keep a straight face.”

“You already won’t be able to do that though.” He grins as your laughing dies down and you take a final deep breath. Your previous laughter has started to turn into something else entirely. You can feel the heat start to surround the two of you but you’re not even on set or in front of the camera yet. This is what happened last time that you and Hyunjin were together. Everyone at the convention swore that you two had undeniable chemistry.

“I would say that you’ll have to get used to moaning Princess but something tells me that you already have experience with that.” His eyebrows raise as he leans back into your couch.

“What gives you that idea?”

“Word on the street is that you watch my shows.” There goes that smirk again. He lets his head fall back against the back of your couch as he sighs a bit.

“Is that right?” He lifts his head, inspecting your matching smirk as he licks over his bottom lip. “Well what if I told you that I heard that you are a big fan of my shows too.”

Your blush is back as you tongue your cheek. Damn Felix and his big mouth! Why would he tell him that? Just play it cool. “Where did you get that information?”

“From the same street that you got your information.” The eye contact that the two of you hold is strong and hot like a steady flame. You watch as his eyes trail from your lips and down the curve of your neck for just a second before rushing back up to meet your gaze but instead of his honey pupils meeting yours he’s met with the view of your own lustful gaze trailing down the slope of his toned arm.

You’ve done other collabs with people that you're close to and some that you’ve only spoken to for a couple of hours at a convention so you can confidently say that you have never felt as titillated as you do with Hyunjin right now. To be fair, you didn’t have a crush on any of those other people.

You may not talk to Hyunjin as much as you desire to but you’ve watched every single one of his cams and SFW Q & A’s as well as his YouTube vlogs that you only just found out about days after you asked him to collab with you. He’s mentioned his art to you before but it wasn’t until you came across his channel that you saw just how good he is with a brush or almost any other medium. That mixed with being able to enjoy his everyday lifestyle content and his breathtaking dance covers has made you feel closer to him than you felt before. Though you do find it kind of embarrassing that you’ve gotten close to him through a screen instead of real life.

Little do you know that Hyunjin is no better than you when it comes to consuming an unspeakable amount of your content. Every single cam that you’ve ever done has been viewed by him at least once and he’s not ashamed to say that he’s even paid to view the premium content.

He found out about your lifestyle and mental health blog around the same time that you found out about his YouTube channel and he proceeded to scroll all the way down to your first post and back up again. He watched each and every one of your advice videos on the site and has read every word that you’ve ever written and posted. He found himself falling in love with the way that your mind works. He loves the way that you look at life and how you’re able to transform your feelings into breath-taking statements. He nearly forgot about your cams when he found your site.

“So you think that I’m used to moaning your name?” His question pulls your attention back up to his gaze.

“Maybe you moan it in your free time.” You shrug with a wink, turning away from him quickly but luckily you don’t miss the smile and blush that he tries to hide from you.

“I could say the same for you.” He grumbles under his breath as he lets his head fall back against the couch again. You both sit silently, trying your best not to smile like an idiot in front of the other. “Did you pre-game?”

“Uh no not yet, didn’t know if you wanted to join.” You stand, raising your arms to stretch a bit and shamelessly giving him the perfect view of your ass in your shorts. “I know it’s not really your thing.”

“Mm.” He must be enjoying the view. “I’m your guest, I follow your vibe. I don’t mind joining you.”

You hum, making your way over to the black box on your TV stand. “You smoke?”

“Yeah, casually, mostly just with Felix or at parties and shit like that.”

“I didn’t know. Do you have a favorite strain? I have just about everything.” He falls into silent thought as you take your seat next to him, setting the box in your arms on the table and starting to set up.

“Purple Runtz, I think. I smoked that one before a cam once and I felt ten times more sensitive.” He sits up, leaning forward to watch as you open your box which basically serves as a mini dispensary. Your interest in weed goes way beyond just getting high for the fuck of it. It’s been the best remedy for your anxiety since you tried it but then again you don’t owe anyone an explanation on why you always have a blunt rolled and ready.

“Ou, I love that one, I think I have some of that. My favorite is Apollo 11, it makes me feel so relaxed and fucking brainless. My anxiety evaporates as soon as I hit it.”

“Are you anxious tonight?” You don’t look over at him. You simply grin as you continue to search for your favorite pipe. You actually aren’t too nervous about tonight's show, something about having Hyunjin here is grounding.

“Not really but I still wanna take a hit or two.” He nods, reaching for the pipe that you laid out on your coffee table.

“How the hell did you get your pipe so clean?” You giggle as you finally find the strains you both mentioned earlier and take a bit out for the both of you.

“That’s a secret, your majesty.” You erupt into your second fit of laughter for the night when you look over and get a glimpse of the most wicked side eye you’ve ever seen.

“Fuck you.”

“You will soon.” You pick out your favorite grinder and close your box. “Want anything else?”

“Got any soju?” You pause, turning around slowly to face him with a raised brow.

“You want to get cross faded?”

“Not really, I don’t drink much just up to the first line of a solo cup. That’s more of my thing than smoking, really.” He shrugs, placing your pipe back down onto the table.

“I mean, if you think that you can handle it. I do want you to remember the night, you know?”

“I’m not a teenager, I can handle it. I’ve done it before and it’s not like I’m smoking an entire blunt by myself.” You proceed grinding the buds as he stands from your couch.

“Your kitchen is…” He walks towards the archway of your living room and mumbles a small ‘there’ when he spots the dark kitchen right across the narrow hallway.

“Soju is on the top shelf of the cabinet next to the fridge.” You call out as you start to fill the bowl of your purple glass pipe.

“So high up for such a little person.” He calls back as you hear the cabinet close.

“Solo cups are on top of the fridge and fuck off tall person.” You can hear the faint echo of his chuckle as he fixes his drink. You take the couple of seconds that you’re waiting for him as an opportunity to light the bowl and take the first hit.

“A yellow solo? Really? You know that the red solo cups are the sexy ones.” You stifle a chuckle in a desperate attempt not to choke on the smoke in your lungs. He brings the cup to his lips quickly before taking the pipe that you're offering him.

“Sexy?” You question following your exhale. “What makes the red ones sexy?”

“The sense of mystery.” He mumbles as he exhales over his shoulder. “I just never see the yellow ones.” You hum, taking the pipe back and peaking into his cup.

“Hyunjin, that’s way more than just the bottom of the cup.” The corner of his mouth twitches as he offers you the cup.

“That’s because I got just a bit more to share with you.”

“I didn’t say that I wanted any.” You tease.

“True, you don’t have to have any. Just thought of you since I came to your house and started drinking your liquor.” You set your pipe down and take the cup from Hyunjin’s hand silently before turning to him completely and holding your pinky out.

“I’ll have some but I just need us to promise something first.” He turns to face you completely, glancing down at your finger with a faint grin. “I get high before almost every cam and I know that you’re aware of that but I’ve never really done it with anyone else. Well, not on cam. I just want us to be comfortable.”

He holds his pinky out to you, wrapping it around yours without question. “I promise that I’ll be fine and that I’m more than okay with everything that will happen tonight. If I’m uncomfortable I’ll tell you, you’ll do the same, right? I only want to make you feel good, nothing else.”

“I promise that I’ll be fine too. I’ll tell you everything. I’ll communicate so much that you’ll want me to shut up.” The two of you had already discussed your limits beforehand and you’ve both done your research on the other person - whether it be for business or personal benefits varies - but you feel yourself relax further now that you’ve heard him say that he’ll be fine. Pinky promises are like a contract after all.

“Impossible, I could never want such a thing.” You let go of his finger and he follows, a grin on both of your faces as he reaches for his cup but you beat him to it. “We’re sharing the bowl and the drink anyway, It’ll literally just be the tip of the iceberg.” He’s right, this isn’t enough to fuck you guys up, not with the tolerance that you have. It’s just enough to make you both melt and feel loose enough to drop your masks a little faster.

“You know what we should do?” He takes the cup as you pass it to him, drinking from the same spot on the cusp that you just did. Did he mean to do that? Was that like an indirect kiss? Or are you really that down bad for him already? Fuck, get a grip. “We should start a bit early, maybe just sit and talk to set the mood?”

“You can’t smoke on cam though.” He takes another sip as you finish your second hit.

“Let’s start after the bowl then. We can share the drink and just chill? Get a feel of everything and vibe check the chat.” He hums, choking a bit on his inhale but recovering pretty quickly, he must do this more frequently than you thought. He clears his throat taking a sip of soju to substitute one burn for another.

“That’s fine with me, Princess.”

“You never told me if I look okay.” The two of you finished smoking maybe fifteen minutes ago and decided to move to your office to start getting comfortable on set.

“That’s because I didn’t trust myself to say something that didn’t sound lame.” Hyunjin makes himself comfortable on your sofa bed, yellow solo cup in hand while he pushes his hair out of his face.

“That was then, what about now?”

“Now I can confidently say that you look absolutely breath-taking.” The soft sound of R&B music playing across the room fills in the silence after his answer. Your content giggling and smiling while you set up your camera and adjust your laptop is enough feedback for him. “What’s the second cam for?”

“Oh, collabs aren’t available in my archive to try and encourage more people to watch them. So if anyone misses this they’re assed out but I do like to record collabs for myself to watch back later.”

“Yeah? Gonna get off to me fucking you later?” The weed and soju are definitely doing their job for him. His playful and teasing nature has been on full display since the two of you finished smoking. Your mask is dropped too so you have no problem matching his energy.

“Maybe, better put on an unforgettable show.” He tongues his cheek, eyeing your glossed lips. He can’t wait to smear that red tint across your cheeks, he’ll definitely give you an unforgettable show. You settle next to him, draping your bare legs over his clothed lap.

“You’ve seen my cams.” His eyes meet yours slowly. “So you know that I will.”

“Then let’s do this.” You lean forward to hit ‘Go Live’ but Hyunjin stops you before you can press it.

“Hold on, I wanted to do something first.” He takes your hand gently as he leans forward to sit the yellow cup on the table in front of the both of you. You hum, staring at him with pinched brows but when he pushes your hair from your face and runs his thumb over your cheek bone you can’t help but to let go of the tension in your face.

“I don’t really want our first kiss to be on cam, if you don’t mind.” A grin creeps up on you as he searches your eyes, leaning in so closely that you can feel his breath tickling your lips.

“Can I kiss you?” You answer him by leaning in and pressing your lips against his. He sighs into you as his lips move against yours. Soft, gentle and only for you. His other hand finds your waist and he pulls you closer to him until your racing heart is nearly against his own. You let out a soft moan as you feel his tongue trace the seam of your mouth. Once he hears that sweet sound he knows that he has to pull away or else the two of you will never turn that camera on and he’ll keep every inch of you to himself. You notice his reluctance as he pulls away but the look in his eyes once they flutter open and meet yours makes you forget about everything except the feeling of him against you.

“You’re smiling.” You turn away at his comment trying to hide your face from him but he turns your head back, a matching smile on his lips.

“You kissed me, of course I’m smiling.”

“Does that mean that you like me?” You turn away from him, groaning playfully as you avoid his gaze.

“Are you ready now? Or are you going to keep flirting with me?” His chuckle brings back the smile that you’re fighting to get rid of and it excites the butterflies in your stomach all over again. Luckily for you Hyunjin is just as down bad as you are, his stomach is doing somersaults right now and he swears that his heart is beating out of his chest.

“I’m ready.”

The chat went from being chill with just about ninety people watching to absolutely overflowing as soon as your usual air time hit. You’re used to having a large audience but the number on your screen is nearly more than double what it usually is thanks to your special guest.

Jinnie! You dyed your hair. They look so hot together omg I’d do anything to be between the two of them right now Can he handle our Princess?

You and Hyunjin skim through the buzzing chat, responding to the comments that catch your eye.

“So many comments about my hair. I just did it because I wanted to impress you all, did it work?” He winks at the camera, his signature smirk on his lips as he brings the cup up to take a sip. He tilts the cup towards you once he sips from it but you bring your hand up to play in his hair instead.

“It’s so soft, like, you all would not believe it. I really like the black on him, don’t you?” His eyes meet yours as he licks his lips.

“Are you impressed?” It’s your turn to smirk as you take the cup from him, brushing your fingertips over the back of his hand in the process.

“Let’s save the reviews for after the show.” You offer a quick wink as you sip from the cup. He tongues his cheek as he focuses back on the chat but his hands are only focused on you.

His fingers are having a field day as they trace sensitive circles and lines into your calves and thighs. He kneads at the flesh softly as he makes conversation with the viewers that he recognizes, but you can’t seem to focus on chat right now. Not when your crushes' big hands are massaging every inch of exposed skin he can reach.

Hyunjin notices that you’re a bit spaced out, so he asks you a question to help you refocus. The conversation kind of turns into an impromptu story time that consists of you and Hyunjin telling the viewers and each other about the other collabs that you’ve done. The further that you get into the show, the closer you and Hyunjin get. You’ve gone from just having your calves draped over his lap to moving closer and putting your arm over his shoulder. That has led you to how you are right now, his arm around your waist with your legs draped over his lap and your head on his shoulder. Your breath is tickling that sweet spot on his neck, and he’s trying desperately to focus on the timbre of your laugh instead of how eager he is to touch you. You’re laughing about something that probably isn’t that funny - thanks to the weed - when Hyunjin reads a comment out loud.

“Looks like you got a tip and a request.” He leans a bit closer to the screen, pushing his hair out of his face and licking his lips as he reads the request to you. “Your socks are cute but I want to see your pretty toes.”

“Mm would you take them off for me, Jinnie?” He sighs at the way that you make his name sound so sweet yet sexy at the same time. He’s already rock hard in his sweats from how close you are to him, he can’t possibly handle your pretty voice saying his name like that too

“Ask me again.” Actually, he can take it. He’ll definitely explode later but right now he wants to take all that he can get. “You sounded so sweet the first time I just need to hear it again.”

“What if I'm not sweet this time?”

“Indulge me, Princess.” A mindless giggle escapes you as you lean in and run your fingers through his hair. You stop right when your lips brush the shell of his ear and whisper.

“Will you please take them off for me…” You suck in a slow breath and Hyunjin’s eyes flutter shut for just a second. “Your majesty .” His eyes squeeze shut and he folds forward in a fit of laughter that you quickly reciprocate.

“You’re so fucking stupid.” He sits up, trying to catch his breath the best he can so that he can fulfill your request.

“Then you should have no problem fucking me dumb.” You fake a pout at him through your laughter.

“Come here.” You bend your knees, bringing your feet to his lap to give him better access. Your laughter quickly dies down when you get a feel of his hard cock under the soles of your feet. It would be a shame not to help him with that. As Hyunjin removes one of your socks you press the ball of your naked foot against his clothed shaft lightly, just enough for a delicious hiss to escape him.

He moves to remove your other sock and you repeat your previous actions, pressing against his hard cock with the other foot and then following with both. Hyunjin's hands run over the tops of your feet as he watches you massage his dick over his pants. It’s too subtle for your mic to catch but you can hear his breathing start to pick up as you work against him. “Pretty.” He mumbles, his voice thick with desire. You grin at him lazily, the effects of both strains of weed is starting to hit you a bit harder now that the heat between you and Hyunjin is starting to pick up.

“You think my toes are pretty?” He nods, his eyes darkened with lust. One of his hands runs up your calf, his grip gentle but firm. You arch your back, pushing your hips forward and inviting him closer while he leans in, bringing one of your feet up to his mouth with a feather light grip on your ankle and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your foot. A shiver runs down your spine as you watch him.

“So pretty.” His voice is barely above a whisper, just loud enough for your mic to pick up but quiet enough to know that he’s talking to you and only you. It’s like he’s forgotten about the chat and if he is to be completely honest, he did, just for a moment. The feeling of your foot pressed against his dick is so intoxicating, how could he not? “Can I suck them?”

“I’ve never done that before.” The wide nervous smile and breathy chuckle that follows your confession leaves Hyunjin smiling too. He presses another kiss to the top of your foot, this time it’s sloppier and it sends another chill down your spine, are you into this?

“Do you want to try it?” You’ve never felt shy when doing a cam before. Not even when you first started, so why are you covering your eyes and giggling like a drunk teenager at the mention of having your toes sucked? “Aren’t these feet just too pretty, chat? Shouldn’t they be worshiped appropriately?”

I’d give anything to be Princess right now Such pretty feet need to be praised

Hyunjin’s question received more than a few comments back and nearly double the amount of tips but truthfully, you were already sold the minute that he asked to do it. Who in their right mind would say no to having those beautiful blushed lips on them?

“I’ll try it.” Your bright eyes meet Hyunjin’s for just a second as he silently asks for confirmation. You nod your head, a goofy smile on your face as you lean back on your palms. He presses soft sloppy kisses to the top of your foot, adding more pressure and tongue as he trails down. His eyes stay on yours when he kisses your pinky toe, adding so much tongue that he’s practically licking it into his mouth. Your smile drops as he does the same to the next toe, you watch with parted lips and bated breath as he sucks on the digit, swirling his tongue over your purple pedicure and effectively making you gush between your thighs.

“Why the fuck does that feel so good?” Your question comes out as more of a quivering moan than you meant for it to but you’re way too entranced in this pleasure to give a fuck about how you sound.

He smirks, his eyes twinkling with a soft desire to unravel you further. “Because I'm good at it.” His lips and tongue leave a trail of wet heat as he continues, his slow and deliberate movements build you up perfectly.

Something tells you that this is going to be a good show.

You can't help but let out a sharp gasp as his lips close around your big toe. Why is that one ten times more sensitive? “Oh fuck.” Your eyes flutter shut and you throw your head back with your lips parted in a euphoric smile. You puff out a small sigh of relief followed by a mindless giggle as he continues to lavish attention on your toes. “This is my new favorite thing.”

“Having your toes sucked?” He plants a sloppy kiss on the top of your foot as he lowers it back to his lap. “Or having me suck them?” He moves his hands to your thighs and parts your legs he sinks the tips of his fingers into your thigh as he pulls you forward into his lap. You gasp at the sudden shift, trying your best to stifle a giggle.

“You can answer that when it’s just you and me if you want.” His hands move to grab at the curve of your ass and you smile down at him, we can’t let him have all of the fun can we?

The moan that escapes Hyunjin when you wrap your hand around his throat and pull his face towards yours is enough to make your ego explode. It’s only now that he’s so close to you that you can see how his eyes have a faint red tint from the weed, they’re droopy and have the tiniest fucked out glaze to them as they stare back into yours.

“You sure are talking a lot for someone who needs me on their cock.” You swirl your hips against him, pressing your soaked core against the tent in his pants. You can’t help to resent the clothes keeping you away from each other, you much rather be grinding on his bare length right now. “Shouldn’t you be begging for me instead?”

"Make me beg for it." His words huff out in a shaky breath, his large hands swiftly and mindlessly gripping your plush hips as you grind against him slowly.

"Show me how much you want it." He attempts to lean forward and catch your lips with his but you dodge him a bit before he can reach you. “Use your words, baby.”

The second that you call him baby Hyunjin swears that he could melt in your hands. He’s no stranger to the sweet name but hearing it fall from your lips makes every other time someone has called him that feel bitter. “You’re gonna drive me crazy.”

You halt all movement and he whines in protest. He attempts to buck up into you but you press down to stop him. “Let me hear you beg for me.”

“Please let me kiss you, let me taste you.” His pleading voice is barely above a whisper. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, his pounding heart is all that he hears as he awaits your response. Your hand slides up the back of his neck, lacing through his raven locks and pulling lightly. “Please, I need you.”

“You sound so pretty.” You lean in and kiss him, smiling against him as he cups your face with both hands and deepens the kiss. His lips move over yours with a hunger that you’ve never experienced before.

His rhythm is gentle yet desperate like he’s savoring the taste of you. Your hands run over his strong shoulders and trail down to explore each curve of his bicep. You brush your fingers over the muscles, moaning when you feel them flex beneath your fingertips, the simple reaction prompts you to grind into him a bit harder earning a pleased groan to vibrate through him. Your hands are caressing the smooth skin of his forearms when his tongue swipes across the seam of your mouth and you promptly grant him access.

Your hands fall to rest on his chest, balling the fabric of his shirt into a fist and your brain blanks out, there’s not a single thought going through that pretty head once the taste of him floods your tongue. He tastes more like Soju than he does weed and there’s a hint of mint from the gum that he was chewing beforehand.

“Chat…” Hyunjin pulls back, his eyes stay on you while he talks to the audience that you completely forgot about. Forgetting that you’re live with hundreds of people watching seems to be a running theme tonight. “You think I should take her top off?” His eyes trail down the curve of your neck until they reach the hem of your strapless top that’s leaving very little to the imagination.

“It’s so tiny how the fuck does it stay on?” You laugh a bit harder than intended at his question causing your top to slip down a bit. “Oh, fuck can you do me a favor? Bounce in my lap, I wanna see your top fall down.”

“You want me to bounce in your lap?” You coo with a sweet yet teasing tone. “Like this?” You bounce lightly, grinding down on his pulsing erection each time you come down.

“Shit, baby, please.” You continue to bounce in his lap lightly, feeling your top slip down little by little.

“Is this how you want me to ride you, Jinnie?” You bat your lashes at him, his hands find a home on your waist, digging his fingers into the flesh.

“Such a fucking tease.” The smile on his face quickly dissolves once your top finally gives way, you continue to grind against him slowly as he takes in the sight. “ Gosh, you’re gorgeous.”

One of his hands slides up the curve of your waist and cups at your bare breast, kneading the mound slowly while pinching and twirling your nipple. It doesn’t take long for his other hand to follow suit. “Shit, they’re sensitive.” You moan at the contact, whining a bit when he pinches harder.

“Yeah? Can you cum from this, Princess? Gonna soak my lap from getting your nipples pinched?” You whimper, arousal flooding your - already ruined - shorts as you arch into his touch. “ Her shorts should come off next, shouldn’t they, chat?”

“Nuh uh, Your shirt is next.”

“Can’t wait to get me naked, huh?” He reluctantly moves his hands to the hem of his shirt, pulling it off in one swift motion and revealing his beautifully built body to you. Hyunjin doesn’t usually get completely naked for his cams, eighty percent of the time he’ll keep his shirt on or just pull down his jeans enough to free his cock but he agreed to do it with you when the two of you were talking about your limits. “Happy?”

“Very.” You mindlessly run your hand over his chest, taking in every bit of him. You’re interrupted by the warm feeling of his hands snaking up your thighs and messing with the hem of your shorts. He taps your outer thigh twice, his bottom lip is pulled between his teeth as he waits for you to follow his silent command. “Can't wait to get me naked, huh?”

You mimic his previous statement and he offers a dark and airy chuckle in return. The banter between you two is not helping how hard he is right now. He’s always liked that about you, he likes that you always have something to say back. “Damn right.”

You hook your thumbs into the waistband of your shorts, keeping steady eye contact with Hyunjin as you remove them. He moans at the sight of you bare before him, the previous petting your thighs has turned into him digging into the soft flesh in an attempt to control himself. “No panties, Princess?”

“They’d just get ruined.” You grab at the hem of his sweats, fumbling with the drawstring and trying to not make your desperation too obvious. Once you undo the bow he helps you pull his pants off of his hips only to find him bare underneath. “No underwear, Jinnie?” He smiles, chuckling a bit with a shrug.

“You’d just rip them off of me anyway.” You laugh loud, hitting his arm and throwing his sweats to the side.

“I would not!” Hyunjin follows up with a joke that you only half laugh at, you’re way too busy taking in the sight of his dripping cock resting against his toned abdomen, how is this man even real? Hyunjin catches on shortly after, taking a chance to enjoy the flawless view of you.

His cock jumps once his eyes land on your glistening core, wet and ready for him to ruin, he has half a mind to just turn off the camera and carry you to your bedroom where he can enjoy you without the prying eyes of your viewers who you both forgot about the second that you got undressed, or maybe it was sometime before that, when was the last time that you looked at the chat? A familiar text tone pulls you out of your thoughts and hurls you back into reality. This is a cam show.

You don’t even need to look at your phone to know who texted you. You’ve got Felix’s text tone memorized. He attends every one of your shows and watches the chat to make sure that no one gets out of hand and you do the same for him when he goes live. Tonight he’s accompanied by Hyunjin’s stream mod and roommate Changbin.

You assume that Felix texted you to tell you just what you were thinking a second ago, you need to look at the chat. You force your attention over to your laptop screen, trying your best to focus on the comments and tips flooding in left and right.

“Jin is distracting me from the chat.” You tease, leaning in to read some comments.

They are in their own world Princess is going to ruin him I want him to look at at me like that

“You’re distracting me too.” He pulls you towards him by your hips so that you're straddling him with his cock pressed against your core. “Are you guys enjoying the show so far?” He asks after you send him a playful glare.

The chat lights up with comments and requests. Hyunjin knows that he should pick a request to entertain the audience. He knows that some people want to see him do specific things to you and you to him but he can’t help but to feel a bit selfish right now. He’s been dreaming about being this close to you for weeks. He doesn’t want to spend his time doing things that others request. He wants to savor you.

“I know I’m enjoying it.” You turn your attention back to Hyunjin, your eyes run over his features, taking in his soft lips and his shining droopy eye. He licks over his bottom lip as he looks you over too. Your eyes are barely drooping despite being high, your lips are kiss bitten and barely glossed but the red tint is still visible and it’s smudged onto your cheek ever so slightly. Just what he wanted.

“I’m sorry…” Hyunjin mumbles as he switches focus between your lips and your lust glazed eyes. “I’m sorry, I can’t pay attention to chat right now.” His lips are on yours in an instant, punctuating his sentence with a heated kiss. You gasp at the sudden impact, your heart racing as your tongue tangles with his. Hyunjin pulls away for just a second, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers, “Can I fuck you now, baby? Can I fuck you like nobody’s watching.”

“You wanna play with me, Jinnie?” You whisper back as your arms wind around his neck.

“Until you break.” He dives back in, moving one of his hands to cradle the back of your head as he tastes you. You pull him closer until your chest is flush with his and you can feel the vibration of your shared moans rattling between you. You reach between your bodies with whatever space is left, lifting yourself up just enough to position him without breaking the kiss. He groans once he feels the head of his cock brush against your dripping slit, he breaks the kiss and leans back to take in the sight of his cock stretching your cunt. “That cunt is so fucking sloppy.” His eyes roll back as you sink down on him and he drinks in every second of your cunt swallowing each thick inch of his throbbing length.

“O-oh, fuck.” He closes the gap between the two of you again with his hands on your hips to help guide you down. He leans his forehead against yours, gazing into your eyes as he fills you to the brim. Once you take him to the hilt you pause to catch your breath but Hyunjin has other plans. You cry out when you feel the tip of his dick kiss your cervix just right. The stretch of him is unlike anything - or anyone - you’ve ever felt before.

“Tiny fucking cunt taking my cock so well. ‘S fucking made for me isn’t it, Princess? This cunt was made for me to fuck.” You move in tandem, timing when to swirl your hips so that he feels impossibly deep. You know that Hyunjin is the type to talk dirty during sex, you’ve watched enough of his cams to imagine what he might be like. You’re usually no different but the way that he feels inside of you is so dizzying that you might not be able to keep up with him tonight. The sweet buzz of the weed and soju makes everything feel like it could have you floating at any second. Even just trying to remember his name or your own for that matter is a full time job that your brain keeps clocking out of.

“J-just for you baby… god, this pussy is yours just please don’t stop.” Your fucked out eyes stare into his as you start to take more control, the sound of your skin colliding echoes as you bounce in his lap. His hands stay on your hips, periodically squeezing the flesh when you clench around him just right. Sweet whines and chants of ‘ah ah ah’ fall from your lips but you become muted when Hyunjin sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and lightly bites it. He plants broken kisses as you arch into his hand tracing the length of your spine. He had to get you to be quiet, if you keep moaning like that this show won’t last very long.

“You know I could have you however I want, right?” He groans as he practically melts beneath you. “I could pick you up and ruin this pretty cunt but I want you to use me. I want you to use my cock in front of all of them.” His hands fall from your back and settle on your ass. The soft flesh in his hands has him holding on for dear life. What the hell are you doing to him? He’s never felt this good before. He needs you off of him now or else he’s going to explode.

“Fuck, baby.” He lands a firm smack that draws a whimper from you. “Come here, show that pretty ass to the camera.” He lifts you up mid stroke and turns you around, your ass and dripping hole on display for more than a hundred people to see. The thought of it makes you bite your lip as Hyunjin reaches over you to jiggle your ass for the camera, leaving a bruising slap on either cheek as he pleases.

“Beautiful isn’t she?” He spreads your cheeks and leans over with puckered lips. Letting a stream of spit fall from between them and onto your asshole. He watches as it runs down and mixes with the sticky arousal of your pussy then drips down to pool on the sofa. A curse escapes him when he brings a finger up to tease your tight hole, rimming it gently then trailing down to tease your fluttering pussy.

“Jin.” A mindless whimper escapes you and Hyunjin hums a moan in response. He wants nothing more than to taste you, he’d make you cum while he plays with both of your holes but he wants to take his time with that. He can’t give you rushed head, you deserve better than that so he’ll settle for sinking his finger into your pussy with his thumb rubbing at your pretty puckered hole. “Oh my god.”

“Think I should add another finger chat?” Tips flood in as soon as the question leaves his mouth. You wiggle your ass at the camera earning a chuckle and a light ass slap from Hyunjin. “My eager princess, want another?” You nod, drawing out an excited hum that promptly fades into a moan once his middle finger slips into you. He fucks into you, pressing against your walls and sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. His other hand trails up your back and you arch for him, pushing your ass into his hand. Your moans echo through the room like a porn site on loud speaker.

“Jinnie I'm gonna - gonna -” He slaps your ass, sending you into a broken moan.

“Go ahead and make a mess for me, baby.” You’re coming undone before you can process it. He fucks you through it, massaging your sweet spot and drawing out your climax. You collapse onto his lap, eyes closed as you try to catch your breath. “I’m the luckiest guy alive.” A smug smirk pulls at Hyunjin’s lips as he repeats the comment that he was able to catch before it went zooming by in the messy chat.

Your eyes flutter open with the intention of looking up at him and throwing a smart remark his way but his throbbing cock resting against his stomach is too close for you not to pay attention to. Hyunjin is running his fingers through your hair as he’s still trying to read the chat. He’s so engrossed in that that he only half notices when you move closer to his cock, sliding it into your mouth with a content hum

“Oh baby, oh fuck” His hand rests on the back of your head, instinctively guiding you as you take all of him and allow his tip to abuse the back of your throat. He marvels at the stretch of your pretty lips around him, taking every single inch of him until his tip makes your throat bulge and your mouth water. “Please don’t stop, don’t stop.” He pants above you, his eyes are glued to your watering ones as you blink up at him and bat your thick lashes. You swallow around him with each bob of your head and use your free hand to pay attention to his balls. You massage them gently, covering them with the spit that dribbles down from the hilt of Hyunjin's cock.

“You have no idea how good you are at that. You have no fucking clue, do you? I’d give you anything, I’d do anything just to feel this pretty mouth on me all of the time. Holy shit, Princess.” You choke around him when he pushes your head down a bit, holding you there for a second to indulge in the way your throat squeezes him. A tear rolls down your cheek and Hyunjin wipes it away with his thumb. He brings the finger up to his mouth and sucks it clean, keeping his eyes on yours as he swirls his tongue around the digit. You whimper around him and he throws his head back at the sensation. “You’re gonna make me nut if you don’t stop. I don’t wanna bust in your mouth, I wanna fill your pussy.”

He makes a fist around your ponytail when you don’t stop, pulling your head back with a grunt. “Don’t fucking listen.” You offer him a messy smile, sticking your tongue out in an attempt to catch his dick in your mouth again. He takes the base of his dick between his fingers and slaps the tip on your tongue. “Filthy girl, so pretty. Look at me, Mhmm keep those eyes on me, fuck you’re unbelievable.” He groans, pushing into your mouth and moving his hips in slow circles. You gag slightly as he pushes deep, his grip around your ponytail tightening as he fucks your face.

“You’re gonna drive me insane.” He pulls your head back again, a single string of spit keeps the two of you connected but it’s broken when he turns your head to the camera. “You liked being dirty for me in front of them? You see how many people are watching you suck my cock.” Arousal gushes between your thighs and you press them together as the intoxicating feeling of embarrassment creeps up and paints a blush over your cheeks.

“I love it.” You hum and he smiles down at you sliding his thumb into your mouth “You’re a dream.” You smile around his finger, swirling your tongue around the tip then releasing it with a faint pop.

“Wanna lay down for me? Let me fuck you dumb?” You’re pulling yourself into position before he even finishes the question. The sudden urgency in your actions earns you a faint chuckle and a quick kiss to your forehead as you get comfortable. He gets up on his knees and slots himself between your legs. You bring them up to rest on his shoulders and he plants sloppy kisses along your calf while he strokes himself against your entrance, teasing your clit with his tip.

“How ya feeling, Princess. You got a bit quiet on me earlier.”

“I’m literally seeing stars.” Your loud laughs echo through the room and rumble through the mic in front of you. “I’m good, just on cloud nine.”

“Am I your favorite collab?” The answer is yes but you’ll never admit that to him, especially not while you’re live. Truthfully this barely even feels like a collab. It just feels like you and your boyfriend fucking in front of a camera. Wait, boyfriend…? What are you even thinking? Are you catching more feelings for him right now? Ugh, okay, you gotta sort that out later.

“Are you trying to get me in trouble?” You lightly push his chest with your foot before resting it back over his shoulder. He chuckles and kisses the inside of your ankle. “Just fuck me.”

“My pleasure, this is what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna slip into this pussy nice and slow.” He runs his pointer finger between your slick folds and your back slightly arches off of the mattress. “Then you’re gonna cross your ankles over my chest and I'm gonna hold them.”

“Is this supposed to be some type of forbidden position?” He rolls his eyes, laughing at you as you smile up at him. “It’s gonna make that tiny cunt of yours feel even tighter.”

You take a shaky breath in as he starts sinking into you. It feels like there can’t possibly be enough air in your lungs. They’re burning but you willfully ignore it. “Oh, come on baby, this messy cunt takes me so well.” His voice is thick with aroused exasperation as he fills you. He halts his movement for a second to allow you to adjust. “Breathe for me.”

You suck in a slow breath but that’s all in vain when he starts rocking into you. “Hyunjin” Your eyes roll back as you moan his name repeatedly. It’s amazing how perfect he feels, like he was made specifically to be inside of you.

“Cross your legs, baby.” You do as you’re told, moving slowly as you adjust to his languid strokes “That’s it.” His gentle pace only lasts another second or two before he starts getting more reckless. He brings his hand up to his mouth and bites on his bent finger while your mouth hangs open in a silent scream.

“Oh what the fuck, Jin. What the fuck.” The moan that escapes you is desperate and nearly has a primal ring to it. The pressure on your clit for your legs being crossed mixed with him feeling as deep as he does is a recipe to blinding orgasm.

“You’re so fucking - Oh my god, you’re the only person I ever wanna fuck. This cunt is mine, can it be mine Princess?” He settles into an unrelenting tempo, he grips your thighs with both hands to steady himself while his desperation sets in. “Tell me it’s mine please, please please.”

“Y-yours, all yours, fuck me like I’m all yours.” A deep groan rumbles through him, That’s exactly what he wanted to hear. He wants to be yours and he wants you to be his. He wants to be the only one who gets to feel like this. The only one who makes you cream on their cock. You look so pretty, you sound so pretty, fuck you’re so pretty.

You turn your face towards the camera so that they can get a better look at you, eyes crossed and drooling onto the sofa.

“My brainless baby is drooling?” A broken moan interrupts him. “My cock really got you fucking dumb, huh?”

“I wan’ your cum, Jinnie, please. Need it. Need it inside.”

“You want it? Baby’s gonna milk my cock, huh? Gonna make me creampie that cunt. Shit - I’m close.” You clench around him and he swears that he can feel his soul leaving his body. He pushes all the way in, hitting spots that you could never reach alone. Your orgasm comes into sight when he hits your cervix just right. “You gonna take it, baby? Gonna take all my - fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“Don’t.” He groans, slowing down a bit but you whimper in protest. “Keep fucking me like that, p-please please. Deep like that, you’re so deep like that, fuck - please.”

“Pri-princess, I can’t - fuck, I can’t” He whines and buries himself deep into you, hips stuttering as he gets closer and closer to losing control.

“Don’t you d-dare cum, Jinnie. Don’t.” You press your thighs together in a desperate attempt at reigning in your orgasm. The pleasure build inside you, slowly creeping up your spine before it hits you all at once. Your body tenses as shockwaves rush over you and your walls spasm and contract around him.

“Holy shit, baby I can’t fucking take it.” His movements become erratic as he tries to help you ride out your high but the feeling of you flooding his cock throws him over the edge. His orgasm hits him like a freight train and he throws his head back and practically screams above you. He bites his lip in a desperate attempt to quiet himself but his efforts are not enough to keep his moans of euphoria at bay.

He empties himself inside of you until his seed is spilling out in a helpless attempt to escape your plugged pussy. You uncross your legs from his chest and let them plop against the sofa once he releases his death grip on your thighs. With the lack of support Hyunjin falls forward but he catches himself before he collapses on top of you, his hips shake as he comes down from his high. Sweat drips down and runs along the valley of your breasts as he hovers above you and tries to catch his breath. You stay still, your body still trembling as the aftershocks of pleasure course through you. You stay like that until he finally pulls himself out and collapses next to you.

Only your labored breaths can be heard throughout the room as you try to fill your lungs but that’s easily drowned out by the sounds of your hammering heart pulsing in your ears when you feel Hyunjin move next to you.

He’s holding your hand.

His fingers intertwine with yours, giving you a light squeeze and you smile at the gesture, the butterflies in your stomach erupt into a clumsy swarm as the two of you lie in silence for a while longer..

“So.” Hyunjin breaths out, propping himself up onto his elbow so that he can look down at you. “Are you impressed?” You push him down with a laugh and roll over on top of him.

“I am impressed.” You lean down and catch his smiling lips in a slow and soft kiss. You both sigh into it, his hands tracing up your sides as yours run down his chest. You break the kiss with a smile and whisper. “Your majesty.”

“If you’re the Princess what does that make me?” Hyunjin teases with a smile and you stare down at him with a surprised blush. You attempt to hide your face in his neck and roll off of him but he pulls you in for another kiss before you can make your escape. The two of you melt into the exchange, getting so lost in each other that you don’t hear Felix’s text tone going off. Actually, you haven’t heard it go off for the past ten minutes that he’s been texting you. Changbin has been texting Hyunjin for the same amount of time if not a bit longer but the two of you have been so deep in your own world. Right now nothing and no one but the two of you exist. You’re both completely and totally enamored with each other and you have no problem with everyone knowing that…Except no one will know that. Why?

Because the livestream disconnected twenty minutes ago.

Thank you reading! Please like and share, it makes my day!

ASLO, please follow my back-up acct. @minniee-verse ❣️

1K notes · View notes

astonmartingf · 9 months ago

Text

GREEDY ; SV5

sebastian vettel x interviewer!reader

. . . at the height of his career all vettel wants is to win. with four world championships on his back, his ego- out of the world, surely that's enough for a room in your life.

amgf i forgot to add this but!!! implied smut but no actual scene, yay! the first post in the main is greedy 😤✊ i love how this turned out, wrote it in one sitting too hahahaha i'm enjoying myself way too much, i hope you do to <3

death of a bachelor ; masterlist

“Nervous?”

You walk out from the ensuite bathroom, finding the blonde German tangled up in the sheets, in that post-sex afterglow, hair- a sweaty mess, breaths labored, and eyes closed in blissed. It was indeed a sight to see, you’re proud, what can you say?

“Why would I be nervous?” Sebastian raises his eyebrows as you move closer to him, kissing his head before scooting in between the sheets.

“Your retirement? The media? My upcoming questions for the tribute?”

Seb’s laughter filled the hotel room, wrapping his arms around yours, “Can’t let me catch a break can you?” he whispers in your ears, hands lingering lower your stomach.

You shake your head, fighting the smile growing on your face, “Need to keep you on your toes. Whatever will happen to that ego of yours if I praise you easily.”

Seb shrugs, “Understandable, I mean you praise me enough in bed, I think I will bust a nut if you praise me there and then in press interviews.”

Scoffing, you stand up, slapping his arms playfully- “You need to control that mouth of yours, it’s funny how you haven’t slipped up yet. About this, y’know.”

Grabbing your cheeks, Sebastian pulls you in for a kiss, “Can’t. Wouldn’t dare even. What’s mine is mine, and you are mine. There’s no way I’m telling.”

Lifting yourself, you straddle on his thighs, “You’re not that good at hiding either, other drivers are asking.”

Peppering kisses on your neck, Sebastian groaned at the thought of the other drivers going to interviews with you. “Don’t remind me. I saw your interview with Lewis, and people are liking it way too much. Now I need to think of some snarky comment to turn all the attention back to you and me.”

A moan escapes your lips, laughter filled in between as you throw your head, back arching closer to Seb’s. “You’re insufferable.”

“I’m greedy. And I’m yours.”

You hum, letting Seb play with your thighs, “Is that why you brought me with you to Silverstone?”

“There’s nothing wrong with an early celebration right?”

You laugh, “Is that what we’re doing? Celebrating?”

Sebastian stops, pushing you back to the bed. Staring at his eyes, you see the hunger and determination inside them.

“Celebrating for the rest of our lives. Fuck, you’re driving me crazy liebe.”

sebastianvettel5

liked by interviewyln, lewishamilton, and 2,483,632 others

sebastianvettel5 how it started ten years ago and how it's going. retirement has never been better, all the things i want i have, and of course with you interviewyln

it took me a long time to even comprehend that i ended up with you. i was jealous, childish, and greedy. thank heavens that you gave me a chance, and here i am ten years later.

after my first interview with you, i knew i had to make the best first impression. who would've thought banter and snarky comments would lead us together.

and now, i wouldn't have it any other way with you and now with our daughter. i love you so much, thank you for being with me at my worst, and in the best times.

liebe, you'll always be in my heart.

comments are restricted by the user...

intervieweryln honey, thank you so much. i wouldn't have it any other way. through the thick and thin, we'll be together. i love you so much seb.

#f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #sebastian vettel smau #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel fluff

2K notes · View notes

mydarlingclaudia · 2 months ago

Text

I could be mom (unless you want to be dad)

note : divider is from @/grlselle. handful of paragraphs before smut sowwy. I also just wrote this spur of the moment because I finally had a bit of motivation and this is the winner of that poll I did last week and I was bored so the smut isn't that long and I'm remembering that I never really knew how to write smut soooo. mdni

wc : 1.4k

tags : @lottiies @luvrgreyy

desc : whiny husband. smut!! - unprotected p in v, riding. established relationship, little bit of fingers in mouth whoopsie, you've got a daughter, fem!reader, vendetta!Leon, not proofread

You unbuckle your daughter’s seatbelt and pick her up out of her booster seat, housing her up onto your hip while you straighten your purse on your shoulder and walk to the front door. Leon’s motorcycle is propped up on its kickstand in the driveway, you didn’t know he was supposed to be back yet. He told you he’d be getting home late, but you got home later than him, apparently. At least your daughter wouldn’t jump up on him now that you’re home, she’s out cold, he’s probably drunk or asleep.

New York had been hard on him. You were upset enough when he told you he was going to Colorado for a week three days beforehand, but having him come home and tell you he didn’t even get to relax as much as he wished because he got pulled into work just made you annoyed. You loved your husband, truly, but he could piss you off like no one else. You know his work is messy, you know he can’t be around all the time, you know he’d rather ease his problems by drinking rather than opening up to you. And you know he's trying to protect you and your daughter, you just can't really help but want something normal.

Maybe you had to work on actually planning things with him, though. Dinner was often between five and nine p.m., you and Leon haven’t been on a date night in like, what, a year now? You know it’s not about him not being attracted to you, your schedules are just so busy that there hasn’t really been enough time for the two of you to go out on a dinner date or something like that.

The house is dark when you step inside, you don’t smell any alcohol, either. You kick off your shoes and take your daughters off as well before you put your keys into the tiny bowl on the kitchen counter, you’re not going to bother to change your daughter into her pajamas, she’s already in shorts and a shirt, that’s good enough and you’re tired, anyway.

Her room is always messy, you’re lucky you don’t trip over any toys even when you turn on the light. You spend maybe ten seconds tucking her in and kissing her cheek before you shut off her light and head to your bedroom, Leon’s asleep on the bed, he doesn’t even smell like beer, which is a good thing.

Leon always looks more peaceful when he’s sleeping, you wish you had offered for him to come over to your friend’s house with you and your daughter tonight, maybe letting him rest was good, though. So you change into pajamas and lay next to Leon, who instantly stirs.

“Hm…?” Leon murmurs when you wrap your arm around him.

“It’s me,” You whisper against his bare shoulder, you immediately feel him relax.

“When’d you get back?”

“A few minutes ago.”

“Have fun?”

“Mhm,” You press a kiss to his shoulder blade, he hums and readjusts the pillow under his head before he finally decides it's to his liking and rests against it again. "Love you."

"Love you, too." You hardly hear him say it, but you squeeze him a bit tighter, hearing the soft chuckle he lets out before he falls back asleep a few seconds later.

—

You and Leon shift around in bed a lot at night, you're never in the same position you went to sleep in when you get up in the morning.

Tonight, though, you wake up to Leon grinding against your hip at one in the morning. You're not mad, he was doing it in his sleep, anyway. Doesn't stop you from waking him up and climbing on top of him after you pull his boxers down.

"Christ, Leon, shut the fu-fuck up!" You hiss at him, continuing to slowly ease yourself up and down on his cock. You've never heard him so whiny before, could've been because the two of you haven't had sex in a little bit.

"C-Can't help i-it-" He gasps out, digging his fingers into the plump flesh of your hips while he bucks up into you. You've been doing this for maybe five minutes now, trying to tell him to be quiet and that you aren't forgetting his needs, but his face is so flushed and his chest is heaving and you can't really tell if he's even trying to do as you say.

His mouth remains open as he continues to let more and more lewd noises escape his throat whenever you sink back down onto him, you don't know how he isn't getting cramps in his hands from gripping onto you so tightly.

But you continue on, squeezing around him tightly because it made him feel even better inside of you. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, your eyes screwing shut while Leon's stay glued to where you're joined, watching as your cunt sucks him in over and over again.

His expression is nothing but pleading and needy and you're so in love with it, your hands rest on the soft fat of his pecs, his trembling hands can't stay in one spot anymore.

"Sweetheart, God, p-please." Leon's voice only gets louder and you have to shush him again, your eyes staying open long enough to shoot him an angry glare.

"If you wake her up-"

"I won't!" He cuts you off, his hips bucking against yours again while his head falls back against his pillow. You're probably not much quieter than him, hearing him whine and moan only triggers something in your brain that makes you mimic him, and there's the soft plap plap of your bodies to go along with it.

You've tried kissing him to swallow up his moans, but your mouths never stay connected for long due to lack of oxygen or he just can't hold your head in place. But his lips are still glossy with his drool and yours, and there's a few hickeys on his neck that he'll stare at for the next handful of days to come.

You know he's close, you're not far behind. Though, you know that when he cums he won't shut up.

But you continue to push your hips up and down, trying to keep your eyes from rolling back when you sink down onto him fully. It only adds more fuel for him to get increasingly louder, muttering about how good you feel and how he needs to cum inside you.

A few more thrusts and he'll be done, you know it. So before he can wake up the whole neighborhood, you grab his chin, forcing him to look at you so you can kiss him. You know that's not enough, of course. So when you pull away from him, a string of saliva still connecting your swollen lips to his, you push two fingers into his open mouth, trying to not his the back of his throat. Leon waits for only a second before he realizes, biting down on the base of your fingers lightly only to then suck on them.

And you're right, as always. After a few more thrusts he cums inside you, moaning around your fingers. The sight of his drool coating your knuckles and eyes lidded with pleasure almost does it for you, but you meet your own release after you raise yourself up to get him balls-deep a few more times.

You sit there on top of him for a few more minutes, looking up at your ceiling while you catch your breath. Leon has yet to tip his head back and slide your fingers from his mouth, trying to catch his breath, same as you.

You're the one to pull away from him, he looks a little annoyed when you pull your fingers out of his mouth and wipe some of the spit onto his chest, but you know he loved everything the two of your just did. Leon smiles at you after a few seconds, wrapping his arms around your back to pull you down onto him for a kiss.

"When did you get so whiny?" You whisper against his lips, then press a few soft kisses there.

"Don't tell anyone," You snort and pull back from him, your hand cups his cheek and he smiles against your palm.

"I wouldn't, that's only for me, right?"

"Only for you,"

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you

874 notes · View notes

barbiiecams · 4 months ago

Text

the “first” time

drew starkey x younger!reader, smut, haven’t wrote ina minute yall sorry 😣. i also recommend listening to the song while reading.

you were cuddled up into the side of drew while he had his arm around you, keeping you close to him as you watched the third horror movie tonight.

but little did he know, you were practically soaked down there.

it took a lot of self restraint in you not to squirm around, but you were almost about to start.

the view of him with his blank tank top, grey sweats, a little stubble, a buzzed head and that damn gold chain had you pressing your thighs together for dear life.

it was such a random moment for you to be feeling like this too. he always looked good, that was for sure. him in general had that type of affect on you.

but right now had to have been your peak ovulation or something, because you needed him bad.

you started off with a simple and subtle movement by moving your hand from where it laid on his chest, and slowly down to the top of his abs.

no reaction.

after this, you had to come off a little more bold. you repositioned yourself, pushing your face more upwards into his neck so that plush of your butt would be more into his hand instead of the bottom of your spine.

and still, no reaction.

the only type of movement that came from him was him licking his lips. this did not help your case in the slightest.

it was just throbbing at this point. you wanted him to give it to you so bad, knowing he’d still be a little hesitant.

you and drew had been together for 8 months now, and there were still no real intercourse going on.

of course, drew didn’t mind using his fingers on you, and you didn’t mind using your mouth on him.

but you wanted, no, needed the real thing.

it’s not like you were a virgin either. you’ve had some experience before him.

and still with this knowledge, drew still was convinced you weren’t ready for him.

your core was ready for him at this point, “drew,” you finally spoke up.

“hm” he said in that low, raspy tone of his. *reason number 300 why you needed to be dicked down this instant*

in reality tho, you really did wish he would just take a hint. actually having to say what you wanted was just too… confrontational.

“i’m really like…” you didn’t make eye contact with his eyes. you were trying not to make yourself laugh at how embarrassing it was to actually tell him at the same time.

drew on the other hand was just waiting for you to finish your sentence, confused as ever.

“really what?”

you sighed. “i really, really, really, really need you. like really”

the words were finally out, but not direct. that was the most he was gonna get from you.

the realization hit him and he let out chuckle, “okay.” was all he said before he started kissing you.

but you knew what he was gonna do, and that wasn’t just all that you wanted.

you pulled away gently, “no like i actually need you. i don’t want just the fingers.”

he raised his eyebrows at this, the actual realization hitting him this time.

“a- are you sure baby?” he asked with genuine concern.

“i’m positive. i’ve been wanting it for so long.”

he’s rubbing your thigh with his hand. “i don’t know sweetheart… are you positive you want it?”

you almost started whining. “yess, drew. i’m so very serious.”

you could see that drew was very hesitant just thinking about it, but then also at the same time considering it.

“just so you know, don’t think that we have to do all of that to be together. i love you for you-”

as much as you loved your man right back, you were getting a little fed up. “yes i know babe but i really need to feel you right now.”

he smirked at your bold statement. for the first time in 8 whole months of the relationship, drew finally caved in.

“alright. don’t wanna hear it’s ‘too much’ either.”

you didn’t get the chance to respond because his lips were already on yours, shoving his tongue into your mouth and holding the back of your head.

this is what you’ve been waiting for so desperately. that rough side of his.

he’s laying you down completely on your back, focused on getting your pajama pants and panties off at once.

at the same time, you’re trying to get his shirt off. you were so ready to just take all of him.

you fumbled with his own sweats and boxers while he fumbled with your shirt, eventually resulting in the both of you being completely exposed to each other.

he runs his hands down your body, “shit.”

you felt him getting harder and harder on your leg. you could tell he was starting to feel that throbbing sensation himself when he guided your hand onto his cock and made you run him.

and while you were doing that, his hand moved to your own folds and started rubbing too. you couldn’t help the gasps that came out either.

his mouth moved down to your neck, leaving a bunch of hickies that would be pointless even attempting to cover the next day.

deciding to tease him a little, you started rubbing the tip of his cock, leaving him with his mouth slack and letting out breaths right by your ear.

“you ready for this dick, baby?” he says while moving his hard on from the palm of your hand, to rubbing at your entrance.

“mhm!” you moan out.

that’s all he needed. he clearly was just as needy all this time as you were. not too much foreplay and no multiple asks of confirmation. he just slid right in and bottomed out too.

his face scrunched in pleasure, “so tight baby. so fuckin tight.”

and he was so big. you weren’t unfamiliar with his girthy and lengthy cock, but the feeling of it actually inside you was foreign. you almost didn’t know if you could actually take it.

almost. you definitely were not stopping him from ruining your insides.

as the respectful king drew is, he waited for you to give him the “okay” to start moving. all you had to do was nod, and he started with a medium pace.

the moans that were already coming out of you were loud. it was so nice, especially on a night like this to be making love to drew.

he wasn’t silent either. you felt perfect around him. he had to let it be known too with the groans that came from him.

“you feel so good baby, so damn good.” he throws his head back.

“more…” you say, a little breathlessly too.

drew doesn’t even question it. he started hitting it harder and a little faster too.

“anything you want, love. this pussy was made for me baby. all for me.”

you wanted to respond and agree, but before you could, drew let a ball of spit out of his mouth and down to where the two of you connected. you were already very wet, and he already had a lot of precum going on.

and now the sound that was traveling throughout the house? straight pornographic.

“you hear that? you hear that pussy baby?” he says, lips back down onto yours.

but you could barely answer. he was going even faster and harder now, leaving you speechless with just your mouth open and small gasps coming from you.

but his hands move to your neck, “i asked you a question.”

your hands laid on top of his wrists, “yes papa.”

he let out an approving nod at your response. “good girl.”

drew moves his hands from around your neck, and he now has your knees pushed into your chest, with his hands firmly planted on the back of your thighs.

and because of this new position, he’s inside you so deep, and hitting that right spot which makes you scream out.

he smiles at the loud reaction. “is that it, baby? right there?”

“yea!” you whined back as a response.

he lets out a chuckle, and then feels you clench around him which knock him back down even further into the pleasure.

“yea baby, fuck. keep doing that.” he groans.

you weren’t just doing it to do it, tho. you were seconds away from cumming all over him.

“m’gonna cum…” you said, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“yea? go ahead baby. wanna feel it. cum all over this fat cock.”

a few more thrusts later, he got his request. you were cumming for so long on him, and he just kept fucking you through it. fucking you more harder than previously, actually.

he was getting so lost into it, so focused on getting his own release to. and with the faces and noises he’s started to make, you could tell he was almost there too.

“want your cum.” you said to him.

he moved is hands from your thighs and up to your hips, giving you the opportunity to wrap your legs around him and trap him into you.

“don’t play with me.” he warns.

“m’not! need to feel you cum inside me. i don’t care what happens.” you babbled. you definitely cared what would happen, but in the moment nothing else mattered.

“you’re playing a dangerous game, baby. y’know that?”

“i know. i wanna feel you fill me up so bad… make you a daddy.” you spur him on even further, knowing the affect it would have on him.

the grip he had on your hips got insanely tight. it kind of hurt in a way, but you didn’t care knowing that he was about to nut inside of you at any moment.

and just as you clenched around him like you did earlier, you felt him smash his hips into yours, this time keeping them connected together.

he came buckets into you. his hot, long ropes of sperm had you feeling full like it was nobodies business.

and he really needed to take a minute to collect himself. the both of you were gasping for air, him still inside you for a good minute after.

when he pulled out, you felt like jelly and so did drew. he laid back down himself, pulling your body into his.

“i’ve been waiting for that.” he spoke.

there was apart of you that kind of didn’t believe that. “you kept saying i wasn’t ready.” you chuckled.

“i know, bad mistake. i almost proposed to you halfway through.”

you laugh at him and snuggle up more into him.

he playfully taps your stomach. "we're gonna have to get you on birth control baby." he says, referring to the comment about giving him a baby earlier.

"i know." you giggle. "i kinda like the excitement tho i dont know."

he shakes his head, half jokingly and half serious. "these youngins"

you slap his chest and roll your eyes, "oh shut up unc." this makes him let out a laugh too.

the movie that was playing in the background was long over, and you both still had yet to realize netflix was asking if you guys were still watching.

1K notes · View notes

agendabymooner · 1 year ago

Text

SOMETHING ANGELIC !!! CHARLES L. X FEM!READER (18+)

summary: she was so sweet but her ex should've known better than keeping her his dirty little secret. OR it was wrong to lust after her ex's teammate but charles leclerc was willing to give her everything.

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), use of explicit language, tbh there's barely smut in there but charles is nasty as fuck so 🙃, ex!carlos sainz x pr manager!reader, hint of corruption kink (not really), p in v, unprotected sex (plz use protection), lowkey possessive!charles, i barely understand what i wrote tbh

note: i only post a lot of charles when he's a dad to the leclerc boys but god did i have some filthy thoughts about him tonight. enjoy xx

something sinful (smut) masterlist

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out

it was wrong to lust for your ex’s teammate, but charles leclerc was determined to make her his and he made sure that she knew that.

a whole winter break was enough to move on, right? right. charles couldn’t give much shit about the time limit for a person to move on from their ex.

not when he saw her throughout the first race week as she took long strides while she followed esteban ocon for the french driver’s media duties. charles used to see her in the ferrari area — being carlos’ sweet secret girlfriend and public relations manager.

how carlos had managed to get away from his crimes of being seen with another woman in public while fucking his manager behind the scenes was something that charles would never understand— but the monégasque pitied the sweet woman for having to see her boyfriend play tonsil hockey with someone else.

she was angelic, having to put up with that kind of thing. and all charles wanted to do was to make her his— to somehow make her realize that she was worth more than what carlos had recognized her for.

his green eyes nearly darkened when he saw her, sitting alone at the booth that the alpine drivers occupied for the night with a sad expression on her pretty face. four months of break away from carlos and she was still affected by the break up that occurred half a year ago.

and her sadness was quickly swept aside when she saw charles taking a stride towards her direction, scooting over instinctively as the ferrari driver offered her a grateful smile and sat next to her.

“i haven’t seen you for a while,” charles told her with a smile, “pierre was incredibly foul for not inviting you to any of our functions during the break.”

“ah- yeah,” she let out an apologetic smile, “i’ve been trying to adjust to my new place in nice. i figured if i was going to be working for alpine, i might as well live in france.”

“oh you moved? trés bonne,” charles nodded, earning a sheepish smile from her. he nearly melted at the sweetness on her reaction. god she was so fucking perfect.

“it’s such a shame i don’t get to see you in the office anymore, though,” he shrugged. “ferrari lost an asset.”

she snorted quietly, “hm, fred even said so. but you know— people come and go.”

“it’s such a pitiful thing, though,” charles said, looking at her while they both drank, “you should’ve been my manager— you’d do more good with me.”

“you’re right,” she drawled, now staring at his eyes as she playfully said, “you wouldn’t fuck me and i wouldn’t get emotionally attached.”

as if they were both in another universe, charles then chuckled darkly and boldly claimed, “i mean... i still would’ve fucked you— i just wouldn’t be stupid enough to let you go and treat you like a dirty little secret.”

she saw how his pupils darkened as he spoke, feeling her legs absentmindedly closing and squirming. as if the floodgates had opened and arousal had gotten the best of her.

“nobody knew about you and sainz but me, right? the amount of times i’ve had to turn a blind eye was insane— i almost thought i’d have to intervene because it was compromising his media duties,” charles admitted, “i wondered what kept you from getting him to move and do his job— it turns out he’s just fucking you in his motorhome. i’ve had to tell the social media manager that he’s just woken up from a nap.”

“he pretended that you’re not even worth the attention after his races because you’ve always been second best to him,” charles tutted.

she huffed, “there’s no need to rub it on my face—“

“—oh no, mon tresor, i’m not being a dickhead about it,” charles shook his head, placing his drink down on the table.

the lights in the club were nothing but colourful strobes that didn’t even spot them, making it easier for him to get closer without anyone noticing and interrupting them.

his breath fanned her ear as he whispered huskily, “i wouldn’t allow him to make you see yourself as second best, mon ange.”

“charles—“ she let out a breathless sigh, feeling his mouth leave open mouthed kisses on her skin. “this is so wron—“

“nothing’s wrong with this when we don’t work anymore, mon tresor,” he murmured. “there’s nothing more wrong than allowing your sweetness to get in the way of the things you so deserve.”

“and you know how to show me the things i deserve?” she asked, almost innocently. god, was he about to cream in his pants if she continued to say shit like this.

“you can demand the world and i’ll give you the universe,” charles watched her accept his offer as he smiled widely.

it was so wrong to lust after her ex’s teammate, but if charles leclerc was willing to give her everything then who was she to reject the offer? the monégasque was telling her to be greedy, and this was the best way to do it.

she felt too overwhelmed. whether it was because of how charles treated her body or how he spoke so dirtily— she wasn’t sure.

her mind was on an overdrive. all she could think about was him. his godlike figure, his prettiest eyes and his thick cock that continued to pound inside her cunt.

she almost shook at his tone as he groaned delightfully right by her ear, “mon dieu, chéri, tu te sens si divin.” my god, darling, you feel so divine.

charles helped her prop herself up back on her knees as his hand guided her eyes towards the mirror in front of them, watching her eyes glistening as much as her cunt did in pleasure.

he then murmured, “do you see yourself, sweetheart? you look so pretty.”

she couldn’t even find herself to look when all she’s thinking about was the cock that stuffed her from behind, a strangled whine escaping her throat as she urged him to move.

“i wish carlos was here to see this,” he chuckled deeply, his fingers pinching her hardened nipple before trailing down her clit to stimulate her even more. she let out a loud whimper, now feeling overwhelmed by his words and his actions as he fucked her once more. “so he knows not to treat you like you’re not worth bragging about.”

“but i guess he had a reason to keep you a secret, hm?” he taunted her, rocking his hips against her as he bottomed out inside her. “because he knew that once you’re out in the world you’d be corrupted by some men. he was so selfish that he thought his sweet innocent girlfriend shouldn’t be corrupted by anyone but him.”

“oh how wrong he was,” charles moaned, his thrusts turning rough and fast as he growled. “you know you deserve better than being a dirty little secret, no?” he tapped her face lightly with his palm as he said, “answer me, mon ange.”

“o- oh- yes,” she cried out, “yes, yes—“

“i can give you everything, mon tresor,” he murmured, “everything that he couldn’t give you.”

“fuck, charles! please,” she mewled, looking behind her with pleading eyes as she begged desperately, “want to cum again, charles please~”

“gonna cum in this pussy of yours, mon ange—“

“please, cum inside me,” she moaned aloud, her desperation echoing around the suite as well as the skins slapping against each other. “please pleaseeee~ just wan’ to cum. god! feel so full, fuck!”

“gonna cum inside you, and make you mine,” he growled quietly, nibbling on her skin as she whined and mewled. her walls clenched at the thought as he chuckled, “oh? you want that, hm? you want me to make this pussy mine?”

“yes! fuck-“ she exclaimed, her body convulsing while she whined, “want you to own me, charles. wanna be stuffed full by you only, charles please~”

“you could’ve asked me a long time ago, mon tresor,” his thrusts turned hard and slower as he came inside her, feeling her clench around his cock as they reached their highs.

she was too fucked out and full, content at the feeling of his cock inside of her while feeling nothing but happiness being in his arms.

charles couldn’t help but grin widely at the sight of her limped body and the dazed expression on her face. he couldn’t find himself to think about his teammate when this sweet woman was finally his.

he knew that he could do so much better treating her like a queen that she was than carlos would ever do.

everything that her ex never gave her— charles would be more than willing to hand it to her on a gold plate.

the next morning, charles found carlos at the hotel lobby as they were both heading to the airport. the two ferrari drivers got to speak to one another before pierre gasly and esteban ocon saw them and talked amongst themselves.

carlos sainz sure was the kind to be confused and puzzled, and he showed this when esteban’s manager — who was once carlos’ girlfriend and manager — approached the group and talked to the drivers before turning to charles with a sweet smile.

“are you going to go now, mon ange?” charles asked with a smile, watching her blush at the attention she got from him as she nodded meekly. “you could just come with us, you know? we’re heading to the same place, anyway.”

“yeah but,” she gestured to the two alpine drivers, “someone has to control these two before the next race week starts.”

the alpine drivers protested against her words as she and charles giggled. charles then looked at her and said, “okay well… text me when you get there, okay?”

she nodded and gave charles a sheepish smile (as if she hadn’t found herself saying the filthiest words to him the night before; not that carlos knew).

charles wrapped his arms around her before kissing her passionately, humming at the taste of her. pierre let out a whistle and esteban grinned at the two toothily.

while carlos… carlos was just confused as fuck.

“see you tomorrow, pretty girl,” charles winked at her, smirk playfully written on his face as she giggled quietly and left with the two alpine drivers.

charles found carlos staring at him with his mouth slightly agape, making the monegasque chuckle and shake his head. “she’s so sweet and pretty, no?”

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @topguncultleader @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico

♡ moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1 @savrose129

#charles leclerc smut #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader #cl16 #formula one imagine #f1 fic #formula one smut #f1 smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #formula 1 smut #formula 1 #carlos sainz #charles leclerc fic #cl16 smut #f1 imagine #formula one fic #♔ something sinful ⎯ f1 smut

1K notes · View notes

jjunieworld · 3 months ago

Text

CEILINGS ˒˒ 최연준͏ ▸ 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾: 𝗶 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗮 𝗯𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀

you’re both from two seperate worlds, but in the four corners of your bedroom the two of you can be together. even if your latest confession means it could be for the last time.

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ choi yeonjun x fem!reader 𓄵 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 none!

genre﹙📓﹚⸝⸝⸝ angst, smut, secret friends with benefits to ???, secret relationship, punk!yeonjun, nerd!reader, reader wears glasses, punk x nerd trope, some bad boy x good girl trope

warnings ‎⸝⸝⸝ unprotected sex, soft dom!yeonjun, kinda service top!yeonjun, pussy drunk!yeonjun, clit stimulation, slight overstimulation, heavy praise kink, marking, slight bulge kink?, petnames (baby, sweetheart, good girl, babygirl), creampie, riding, cowgirl, depictions of heartbreak, a lot of desperation lmao

kipo’s note ‎⸝⸝⸝ happy birthday yeonjun my love!!! ♡ ♡ ♡ and happy early ggum release!!! this is inspired by the songs ceilings by lizzy mcalpine and in my room by julia wolf! haven’t wrote angsty smut in so long, i missed it hehe! wrote this while i was suffering from a migraine (> <。) the love and deepspace brainrot has been strong so if you see familiar dialogue… ʅ（‾◡◝）ʃ i hope you enjoy!! ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ︵͡ 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (⌒‿⌒)♡

∿ [ 4k ] ⋆ [ continue on to . . . masterlist ]

if you tried really hard you could imagine that the four corners of your room was something else—somewhere else. somewhere other than your room. like, perhaps, a nice restaurant where the lights are warm and you’re sitting in the cozy back corner. or maybe a park on a day where it’s not too hot and not too cold. that perfect temperature where you can wear lighter clothing if you wanted, but that also gave you the opportunity to ask a lover for their sweater.

tonight, as you stared up at your ceiling, you pictured that your room was a cute little picnic date. you pictured that you and yeonjun ate cute little sandwiches together as you both watched various strangers pass by. you pictured that you and his relationship was ultimately more than it was.

yeonjun: your window’s still open, right?

the buzzing of your phone at such a late hour didn’t surprise you as much as it did before. you didn’t even have to check the contact name as you responded and tossed your phone back onto your nightstand, the device clanging against your stacked textbooks from your study session earlier. a sigh pushed through you.

you had been so hopelessly in love with yeonjun since you first laid eyes on him on campus—nonchalant attitude paired with his alternative clothing and headphones resting against his head that seeped out the rock music he was always listening to as he strode across the pavement. when his eyes met yours that day for the briefest of moments, you had to get to know him somehow.

you: you know it always is.

unfortunately for you, your social circles didn’t overlap in the slightest. yours consisted of studious students who were the top of their classes and who made sure that their assignments got turned in early. nerds, others would say, or perhaps geeks.

yeonjun’s on the other hand—his consisted of various alternative people. some in bold black and white makeup and black, frilly victorian style dresses, while others in tight, dark clothing and hair in their eyes that sported dyed colored stripes. all of them clad in black eyeliner that darkened their already tired looking eyes and listening to the same rock music he did.

he was rebellious and liked to break the rules while you abided by them. the hammering of loud drums and guitars soothed him while it was something you absolutely couldn’t stand. he was vulgar and spoke the first thing that came to his mind while you constantly overthought the polite answer you would give. yeonjun was night while you were day.

the two of you couldn’t have been more different.

but still, that didn’t stop you from being drawn to him. and that fateful day where you happened to run into him and drop all of your textbooks changed your relationship forever. never did you think your wide eyes and bumbling apologies would lead to you under him as your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders as your shared moans bounced off the walls of your room.

never did you expect him to ask you to keep it all a secret because he didn’t want his friends to know he was fucking the resident nerd.

you hear the familiar creaking of your window as yeonjun begins to open it and reach for your glasses in the mess on your nightstand. the blurriness of your room comes into focus right as yeonjun pokes his head through the window, effectively killing the daydream you were in. he pushes his bright orange hair off of his forehead as he steps through, finger tangling in the light blonde streaks within it.

“hey, babe,” yeonjun said as he swung his other leg over the ledge of the window. his black boots crumpled one of the discarded papers on your floor but he didn’t seem to notice as he shut the window behind him, locking the cold air out.

yeonjun turned towards you, already stripping out of his faded flannel. “that math test is already a bust. i literally couldn’t understand any of that shit. i don’t even know how i made the class… shocked that the professor hasn’t said anything to me about it yet.”

his cheeks were flushed from the cold and his dark brown eyeliner was smudged around his eyes as he stared down at your lying form. you pushed up on your elbows as you watched him take off the band t-shirt he was wearing. you stared at his bare upper-body with wide eyes and the corner of his mouth lifted as he kept talking.

you hated the way your heart fluttered and raced, hated the effect he had on you. you hated the way he smirked at you like he knew he had you wrapped around his pretty little finger. it was embarrassing.

you gulped as his eyes remained on yours as he slowed his fingers down to unbuckle the belt he was wearing. “you seem distracted…” yeonjun said, his voice mixed with amusement and slight teasing, “don’t tell me it was that hard! if you can’t do it, then there’s no way in hell i’m gonna.”

he kicked off his boots and moved closer to where you were on the bed. your tongue felt heavy in your mouth as you stuttered out a response, “y-yeonjun… it’s late and we both have classes tomorrow… what are you doing here?”

in one swift motion he climbed over you, trapping your body underneath his. the tips of his dyed hair tickled your cheeks and the cold metal of his belt buckle against your lower stomach made you shiver. his mouth was at the shell of your ear as his whispered, “you know why i’m here.”

yeonjun pressed kisses down the side of your neck and along your jaw, stopping just before he reached your mouth. “besides, i wanted to see you.”

his hands trailed up your sides and under the thin fabric of the tank top you were wearing. before you knew it, it was over your head and you bare breasts were exposed fully for him. “i wanted to see the pretty flustered faces you make when i’m inside of you.”

cold fingers hooked onto the hem of your shorts, tugging down slowly. “and the way you try and avoid my eyes but can’t help but stare. can’t help but let those pretty moans escape your mouth,” yeonjun continued as his lips brushed against yours. he pulled your shorts and panties down until you were completely naked under him.

“you’ve been avoiding me.”

he pulled away completely and stood from your bed, his words hanging in the air. his eyes never left yours as he tugged his black jeans down.

your chest rose and fell heavily as your eyes trailed down to the obvious bulge in his boxers, the dim light of your bedside lamp making it more apparent. you shook your head as your eyes met his gaze once more, “i haven’t.”

you have been avoiding him. not purposely, but you guessed that it was to the extent that he noticed. when he would walk in your direction on campus you would go a different way to your class. you’d force yourself to not let your eyes linger on his retreating frame and instead focused on what the task was at hand.

it shocked you that he noticed, since he usually ignored your existence outside of these four walls. “it just… wouldn’t work…” he had told you once as you stayed curled up against his naked body one night. “we’re like two puzzle pieces from two seperate boards.”

“you have,” yeonjun stated, pulling down his boxers so he too was completely naked, spare the small skull necklace you had gifted him a couple months back. his large cock hit against his lower stomach, the precum dripping from the slit glittering in the dim lighting.

he returned back to his hovering position over you, heavy cock brushing against you and causing your legs to tighten slightly around his waist as arousal pooled at the pit of your stomach. the small skull necklace dangled above your face as his head tilted to the side and plump lips formed a tiny pout. “why?” yeonjun asked, voice lowered.

the tips of his fingers grazed along your hips and left goosebumps in it’s wake as he waited for your answer. your breath hitched in response. “i-it’s—school’s just been hectic…” you trailed. “finals are coming up.”

yeonjun’s head dipped to the crook of your neck. he hummed against the skin, causing you to shiver again. he dragged his nose up your jawline until his lips brushed against yours once more. “liar,” he whispered and then lowered his lips onto yours fully.

he kissed you slowly, yet his lips pressed onto yours roughly. yeonjun’s hands inched up your sides and stopped just below your breasts. he then pulled away just before the two of you struggled for air.

your glasses fell down your nose bridge and he adjusted them for you. “i’ll just have to fuck the answer out of you,” he concluded, his voice louder. his other hand dipping between your legs to collect the slick that formed at your core.

yeonjun spread the slickness all through your folds and throbbing clit, making your back arch off the mattress slightly as a small moan pushed between your lips. “or you could just tell me the truth…” he spoke, thumb rubbing your clit and sending waves of pleasure up your body.

your eyes squeezed shut, “that is t-the truth.”

“come on, baby. you don’t even believe that,” yeonjun responded, incredulous. he hummed again and grabbed his cock with the hand that was circling your clit, rubbing the reddened tip up and down your arousal. he used his other hand to hold down the lower half of your body.

how could you tell him the truth? it was clear that he wasn’t looking for a relationship with you that wasn’t purely physical—and a secret at that. even now, his words rang through your head: “we’re like two puzzle pieces from two seperate boards.”

the two of you didn’t even fit together.

you couldn’t possibly say that you were hopelessly in love with him. that you daydreamed scenarios where the two of you were together, really together. scenarios where you held his hand in public and where he wasn’t afraid to kiss you in front of his friends and anyone else who may be watching.

it was a pipe dream, and you knew it. you knew he knew it, too. and yet…

yet, you wished that maybe your thoughts would be proven wrong. maybe he would smile and say that he loved you too, that he wanted to be with you too. publically.

breath hitching, you said in a low whine, “i’ve been stressed.”

it wasn’t technically a lie, but it was still far from the truth. you just really didn’t want to ruin what the two of you already had going on. it would absolutely crush you, and you already looked at yeonjun like he hung the stars in the sky himself.

your hips rolled up towards his on their own and you dug your head into the pillow underneath you. “i’ve been avoiding everyone, not just you,” you continued.

yeonjun hummed again and you could tell that he still didn’t believe you, but would drop it for the time being. “then i’ll make you feel better.” his lips were on yours again, rough and full of desperate need just as he pushed himself inside you fully.

you broke away from him suddenly, crying out in a loud moan that yeonjun then cut off with his lips. his hand still pressed down on you as he thrusted into you again. he brought his free hand up to cup your face gently, all while you moaned into his mouth.

his pretty lips sucked dark marks onto your neck, claiming you as his as they trailed down to your breasts. the obscene sounds the two of you made together bounced off the walls and you were lucky that you lived alone in this small apartment.

“fuck, you’re so wet. does my cock in you feel good, sweetheart?” yeonjun asked and all you could do was nod as he fucked into you deeper. he nodded along with you, “yeah? you want more? you’re still stressed?”

whimpers fell from your lips as he kissed the love bites he just left. “w-want… more. please,” you begged.

yeonjun chuckled, pretty smile lighting up his features. he then moved the two of you so you were now straddling him as he laid on your bed. your eyes widened in shock. usually he had you pinned under him as he fucked you. never have he let you ride him before.

“ride me, baby?” yeonjun asked. “take all of your stress out on me.”

you inhaled sharply as you looked down at him, looked down at his length laying on his lower abdomen and wet with your arousal. you shook your head. there was no way you were gonna be able to ride him—at least not on your own.

he must’ve sensed your hesitance because he cupped your face and rubbed his thumb along your cheek. “you can do it. you’ve taken all of me before. don’t worry, i’ll help you.” yeonjun’s voice was low with reassurance and you swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded.

“okay,” you shakily muttered.

yeonjun nodded again with you, “let me help you feel better.” his hands found your waist and pulled you towards him as he kissed you, melting your worries.

he pulled away and looked down between the both of you as he sat up more. he guided your hips up and reached down to prop his cock up for you. “sit on it,” yeonjun said.

your hands found his biceps and grabbed onto them tightly as you aligned yourself. slowly, your pussy sunk down on him inch by inch, wrapping around his length and filling you up so much that you felt like you could feel him in your chest. yeonjun let out a guttural moan as he fell back against your headboard. “good…” he whimpered out, trying his hardest to steady his breathing. his hands on your waist moved down to your hips as they tightened.

“good girl, just like that. see? i told you you could do it. fuck—“ yeonjun suddenly thrusted up into you, eyes rolling back slightly. “fuck, baby you feel so good,” he breathed out through a moan, “god, you drive me crazy.”

the corners of your mouth rose as you watched his reaction. you never gotten this clear of a view of his face and you were enjoying every moment of it. experimentally, you rolled your hips forward and immediately let out a loud moan. yeonjun’s fingers dug into your hips hard, “s-shit, keep doing that. gonna make me cum if you keep moving those pretty hips like that.”

he moved your hips for you as he stared at you through hooded lids, mouth open as more moans passed his lips. you bet your expression mirrored his as you moved your hips more, brows furrowing as shock waves of pleasure shot up through you.

you placed your hands flat on his bare chest as your hips moved faster. your head flew back as yeonjun kneaded your bouncing tits, thumbs rubbing over your perked nipples. “keep going,” he whined through labored breaths, thrusting his hips up against yours as you moved.

“jjunie, i’m gonna—“ you could barely finish your words as he thrusted up towards you and the rope in your stomach completely snapped. you fell backwards onto your hands, giving him a full view of your shaking body, glistening in the dim lamp light with a layer of sweat.

you tried to catch your breath as best you could as pleasure rippled throughout you and made your limbs feel like jelly. you wanted to help him too, so in a weak motion you used your hands behind your back to roll your hips again, using the last bit of strength to raise your hips as well as you dropped them back down on his throbbing cock.

the sound the two of your bodies made was completely lewd. cum dripped from out of you and around his cock and down his thick length. yeonjun watched the whole thing and you swear you saw the last resolve in him break as his mind completely fogged over. “my fucking god,” he half moaned, half muttered as he sat up completely. in one swift movement his tight grip held your hips and he fucked into you so deep and unrelenting that you saw new galaxies.

all you had was the weakening strength of your arms behind you to keep you afloat, and the more he fucked you, the more it wavered. “you drive me fucking crazy, you know that?” yeonjun sputtered between moans. “you and this pretty fucking pussy of yours, devouring my cock whole. all i can fucking think about these days.”

you barely heard anything yeonjun was saying with the ringing in your ears, you think that he barely heard himself, honestly. his mouth was stringing together incoherent words and praises between various curses as he fucked you deeper and deeper. your arms shook and so did your body not just from your rapidly numbing body, but also from the sheer force of his thrusts—so desperate and so sloppy as he chased his incoming release.

“t-too… m-much!” you cried, trying to catch his gaze through the tears forming in your eyes and your tits bouncing in your face. “can’t take a-anymore!”

yeonjun shushed you softly as his hands moved to your waist, his frenzied pace not stopping. he pressed you up against his chest and slammed his lips onto yours. “relax,” he whispered breathlessly between kisses as his body moved in sync with yours, “you can take it.”

he pulled away and rested his forehead on yours, moans falling from his parted lips as he released inside of you and filled you up impossibly more. your head fell to the crook of yeonjun’s neck as the two of you caught your breath in comfortable silence. after a couple minutes, yeonjun broke it and breathed, “good job, babygirl.”

yeonjun moved you onto your back, still deep inside of you. he pulled out slowly, the base of his cock covered in a white ring of cum as more of it poured out of you and down the curve of your ass. he watched it all with eager, hungry eyes.

“fuck… look at that,” yeonjun mumbled under his breath. he dragged his thumb along your cum covered folds, pushing some of it back inside you just to watch it pour out of you again. you jerked as your breath hitched and you tried to close your legs but yeonjun used his thighs and free hand to keep them open. “so pretty, makes me want to pump your pussy full of more of my cum,” he continued, louder this time.

he leaned down to greet your lips in a slow kiss, hands touching any part of your body that he could access. the two of you stayed like that for a while as you came down from your sex high, lips locked together. your hands were in his dyed hair, pulling at the tips as you whimpered softly. your core throbbed and you were filled with need once again.

yeonjun smiled against your lips. you had to give it to him, he knew your body well. a low hum came from the back of his throat and he pulled away. “it’s late,” he muttered before kissing your lips again and pulling away fully.

he disappeared for a moment and came back with a warm, wet towel to clean the two of you up. after he turned to pull his boxers back on as you laid under the covers naked. you watched as he started to pull on his black jeans, your heart racing with every tug. all you could think about was how you didn’t want him to go. how you didn’t want to go back to practically being strangers again.

suddenly the words are tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them, your head too clouded to think properly about the consequences your words may have. “listen… i—“

“don’t tell me you’re in love with me,” yeonjun joked in a teasing voice as he buckled his belt. your mouth clamped shut and heavy silence filled the room as yeonjun put his shirt and flannel back on. he paused once you didn’t say anything, turning to look at you from your window.

he hesitated before sighing and reaching down to put his boots back on. you tried to not let the tears fill your eyes in front of him as thick tension filled the air, opting to tug the blanket tighter around your body. “let’s not ruin a good thing, okay?” yeonjun said, lowly, avoiding your eyes.

yeonjun opened your window and the cold night air hit you full force, causing goosebumps to form along the parts of your skin that were exposed. the moonlight made the skull necklace around his neck sparkle. “i’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked as he turned to face you.

you hid your face from his view as you looked to the side just as the tear rolled down your cheek. you nodded, it was a solemn nod that you tried to mask. you moved your hand to fix your hair in a discreet way to wipe the tear away and looked at him with the biggest smile you could muster. it didn’t reach your eyes.

you could tell he didn’t buy it and that he wanted to say something about it, but you laid down before he could and focused your eyes on your ceiling. you heard his soft sigh and the window close after he stepped through it, effectively cutting off the cold air blowing into your room.

all at once it felt like the stars had come crashing down around you. no matter how hard you tried, it felt like you couldn’t get oxygen to your lungs and hot, blistering tears fell from your eyes. you heaved in breaths of air that did absolutely nothing.

sobs wracked your body that were so loud you were sure that yeonjun could hear them outside. they hit you like a tidal wave and the pressure of it all was making you drown. you clutched at your chest as you laid in a ball beneath the covers, gasping for air as you cried harder and harder.

how could you be so stupid? you knew the risk—knew that he didn’t feel that way about you and still you opened your big mouth. and for what? you wouldn’t be shocked if your relationship ended here. if you never saw yeonjun again and the two of you went back to being actual strangers, someone who you stared at from a distance.

you’d never see his face again. you’d never see his band tees and smudged eyeliner, never hear his loud rock music that gave you a headache, never feel his skin against yours—again. it was completely and utterly over, and it was all your fault. you felt sick to your stomach.

like a zombie, you rose from the grave that was your bed and numbly put your pajamas back on, feeling disgusted with yourself. you stripped your bed of the old sheets and covers and replaced them with new, clean ones. you shut off your bedside lamp as you fell apart in the darkness, more pained sobs forcing its way through your mouth.

you’d never see yeonjun again—not in the same dim light you once saw him in before.

∿ [ continue on to . . . part two , masterlist , taglist ] 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (⌒‿⌒)♡

🏷️﹙ want to be added to my permanent taglist? click here ﹚ @jjunberry @gothgyuu @gyuuberries @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka @dani-is-tired @riaawr @yeonjunsfox @nxzz-skz @jakeswifez @rapmonie2047 @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @skaterhoon @aaa-sia @jeonghaniehaee @todorokiskitten @onlyhyunjin @lilyuwon @who-tf-soddhi @americanojake @in-somnias-world @ghstzzn @chaconadine @inkigayocamman @won4me @usnve @aduh0308

1K notes · View notes

eternalsunrise · 4 months ago

Text

call my bluff.

deadpool (wade wilson) x gn! reader

word count: 2.1k

summary! deadpool and you have an unorthodox dynamic. every time the masked man ends up in your neighborhood, he can’t seem to stay away. you’ve never seen his face or even heard his name, but the two of you are in a game of flirtation with no end in sight. as the tension is raised, both of you wonder, is there something more here?

tags! reader is a regular citizen, talk of reader wearing a skirt but i don’t think i used any pronouns? HEAVILY suggestive but no smut, alcohol mentions, i wrote this with comic deadpool in mind but could easily be ryan’s as well!!

notes! the collective d&w brainrot has caused me to open tumblr and actually complete a fic. hope u love it <3 abs

“taxi!”

the crisp night air nipped at your legs as you stepped off of the sidewalk and onto the edge of the street for the fifth time in the past fifteen minutes. you waved your hands semi erratically, jumping up and down as to try and make yourself take up more space so that the bright yellow vehicle would take notice. instead you watched as it zipped right past you, short term deja vu happening once again.

you threw your arms down in defeat and stared up at the night sky, “fuck!” you sent your frustrations up to the half of a full moon you could see, the other portion blocked by skyscrapers. how is it that this city was known to be crawling with cabs and you couldn’t even flag one of them down? were you on some kind of taxi blacklist?

whatever the reason, you decided that between your horrible luck with public transport and your dead cell phone, you might as well start the trek home.

your body buzzed with the alcohol from the evening; your night out with friends had veered into the early morning hours, and you promised them you’d be able to find your way home. blacklist or not, the city was walkable and you were tired of waiting.

so you crossed your arms over your chest, a half baked attempted at hiding from the chill of the city. you started walking in the direction of your apartment, craving the touch of warm sheets and pillowcases.

after a few minutes of sharing the air with faint car horns and the buzzing of people’s air conditioning units, you heard something else. someone else.

you weren’t naive, the city never sleeps, and there were bound to be people out just like you. however the path you chose was definitely less trafficked, and general paranoia was starting to set in. after all, you’ve been the only person for the past three blocks, only sharing the sidewalk with stray cats.

the thought that someone was behind you forced you to sober up quickly. ice cold blood replacing the warm alcohol that was coursing through your veins.

the footsteps are louder now, matching your heartbeat patting against your rib cage. you wonder why they haven’t walked past you yet. were you being followed? taking a deep breath, you reach into your bag slowly. you retrieve your small weapon of defense, ready to face off a potential threat. whoever it was, they were behind you now. you figured your best bet was fight AND flight. attack and spirit off.

you hear a wolf whistle, deep and slow, right in your ear. it’s now or never.

you whip around and shove your arm toward the nightcrawler (pervert?). you open your mouth to let out a scream and clench your eyes shut. you’re surprised when your voice is muffled by…leather?

“oh cupcake, this is adorable! where’d you get this, amazon?”

you open your eyes and are stunned to lock them with a sea of red and black. your eyes trail upwards, spying artificial whites and a mask you’ve grown familiar with. the original terror you felt starts draining from your body, and is replaced by shock and a strange sense of relief.

deadpool has one of his gloved hands locked around your wrist, long index finger just barely lifting yours off of the trigger of the object in question. a travel sized, hot pink, container of mace.

you open your mouth again to speak but find his other hand muffling your airways, his large palm covering your mouth and tip of your nose. you frantically grasp at his arm with your free hand, yanking it away from your face.

“you know sweet thing, if you wanna walk around this late by yourself, you’ll need something a little more industrial. i actually know a guy if you-“

you take in a giant gulp of air and clutch your chest, trying to slow down your heart rate, “what. the FUCK is wrong with you?” you cut off deadpool’s rambling, staring at his blank eyes.

the merc tilts his head to the side as if he was a confused golden retriever, “really? you wanna trauma dump right now? well…” he clears his throat, voice dropping an octave to portray faux sincerity, “i guess it all started in third grade…”

you groaned and rubbed your face with your free hand, the other still in control by your assaulter, “you could’ve announced yourself, you gave me a heart attack! what are you doing following me anyway?”

deadpool finally releases your hand, his own finding home on his hips, resting right above his two holsters. “well i saw you wandering around like carrie bradshaw. and i may not be your mister, but i was hoping to give you something Big.” he shrugs as if that response was as normal as discussing the weather. you shove your measly can of mace back into your bag.

shaking your head, you turn on your heels, starting to walk away. you plan to continue your trek home, confident that the anti hero would be quick to follow behind. “how hard would it be to just say you want to walk me home?”

you’ve been playing this game of back and forth flirtation for a while now, and you knew that deep…deep…deep down he was masking true concern for you.

deciding not to answer, deadpool took just a few of his large strides to end up by your side. “what are you doing walking alone looking like that anyway? admit it! you were hoping i’d show up.”

you look at him with glassy eyes. now that your guard was fully down, you started to feel the effects of those three tequila shots you took as a send off to your friends. maybe those weren’t such a good idea. the way you’re looking up at him make’s deadpool’s wade’s stomach turn, and he has to clench his fists to control himself.

suddenly he’s forgotten why he was on this side of town in the first place.

you let out a laugh full of teeth, “oh you wish! i haven’t seen you in a few days though, had to go out to fill my needs elsewhere.”

what you two have has never went beyond casual flirtation, but the idea of you being under someone else sparks a match of jealously. but wade knows better. and he knows that slight stumble as you walk, your hands pulling the skirt of your outfit down.

deadpool hisses as if you’ve hit a nerve, “ouch baby, i didn’t think i’d be third wheeling with you and jose cuervo tonight.” he spots a car driving toward the two of you and acts quickly; he places a gloved hand on your waist and moves you away from the sidewalk. he doesn’t miss a beat, you don’t even realize you’ve switched places.

you’re looking back up at him again as you walk, this time reaching up and tapping the handle of one of his sheathed katanas, “what about you killer? you been thinkin’ about me?” you’re teasing him, but a small part of you hopes he’ll give you a genuine answer that aligns with what you want to hear.

his mask creases as he raises his eyebrows and you can’t see but wade is giving you a smirk that sits on the side of his mouth, “oh you know it sweet thing. every time i’ve slid one of these bad boys in and out of a bad guy, it reminds me of what we could have.”

deadpool lets out a dramatic sigh, reminiscing on something that hasn’t even happened, “but their screams usually ruin my hard on, i think your’s would have the opposite effect.”

so much for your genuine answer.

you blame the red on your cheeks and buzzing feeling on the alcohol, pushing the thought of the real cause into a box and storing it in the back of your mind. how embarrassing to feel this way about a masked weirdo that sometimes strolls through your neighborhood. you didn’t even know his real name. hell, you’ve never seen his face!

after a little more walking and a lot more sexual tension, the two of you arrive in front of your apartment building. you turn to face your escort for the evening, flashing him a grin full of drunken glee, “well this is my stop, thank you for the company mr. pool. i’ll have to repay you somehow.” your tone teasing but borderline suggestive.

deadpool nods and taps his chin a few times, “you’re right cupcake….since you’re offering…” he trails off, his voice growing deeper as he bent down to be eye level with you. your throat hitched, a gasp getting stuck there, not expecting him to call your bluff. “i take payments in the form of cash, debit, or check!”

he taps the tip of your nose and shoots back, standing up straight.

oh right! no way this guy would ever actually take you up on your banter! and that was a good thing…right? you decided to end the night now, preventing your drunken state from dragging a masked man into your home.

you rolled your eyes and braced your hand on his broad shoulder, stepping on the tip of your toes and placing a kiss on the side of his mask, the textured material tickling your lips. “goodnight handsome.”

you leaned away from him but trailed your hand down to rest on his chest. hey! the tequila was making you brave.

deadpool, no wade—deadpool—no! wade felt like he was about to fall backwards like a cartoon cat after getting hit with a sledgehammer. it had been a long time since his suit had experienced anything that gentle, he felt this was about to go down a dangerous path.

wade stared down at you through white lenses, his gaze bouncing between your hand and your lips. back and forth like a game of table tennis.

he watched as you bit your lip and held his gaze. your cheeks flushed, eyes glossy, the street lights illuminated your face in a way he’s never seen before. he wonders if potential onlookers could see small hearts surrounding his head.

wade feels a thought go through him, as if it swept in on the early morning breeze. a thought that he felt insane (shocker) for having even for a moment.

standing there with you, he wants to be himself. he has the urge to be vulnerable; rip his mask off and be wade wilson with you. for you. in this moment he wants to be more than the merc that flirts with you. wade wants to be with you. he wants…..fuck he wants to take you inside and make sure your body leaves an imprint in the mattress that’ll be there for weeks. stop looking at him like that, his pants are getting tight.

and there’s deadpool. he imagines tiny versions of himself stabbing katanas into the hearts around his head. they let out sad whines as they deflate and fall onto the sidewalk below him. he needs to get a grip.

“sweet dreams angel face. oh! if you need me throughout the night, just scream out of your bedroom window! screams of damsels in distress are like my mating call.”

you retract your hand with a giggle that makes that stupid thought come back into deadpool’s head.

you hesitate. wanting to say something but…deciding best not to. you turn around and walk up the stairs to your door, ignoring the fire in your stomach that’s been growing after each flirtatious jab.

you hear him start to speak as soon as you put your key into the lock, and you turn around almost too eagerly. you want him to say what you’ve been wanting, craving to hear. you want him to enable that dark part of you; the part of you that wants more of him. the part of you that knows he’s wrong. that he’s got to be walking danger.

deadpool points at himself, “but babe, if you see a way less sexy guy in a suit responding to your call. one that has ugly little spider webs all over him? slam the window shut. you want nothing to do with that guy, trust me.”

your shoulders drop, an exhale released. you give him one last shake of your head, and a barely there smile, before you’re inside your home. the bubble that surrounded the two of you bursted.

the door shuts behind you but the masked man stays in place. he stares at the spot where you were just standing, thinking about all the other routes this night could’ve taken. he isn’t right for you. he should leave you alone. wade knows that. too bad deadpool’s never been a good listener.

#marvel #marvel x reader #deadpool #deadpool x reader #wade wilson #wade wilson x reader #deadpool and wolverine #x reader #deadpool fic #marvel fic #mcu x reader #mcu #mcu x you #deadpool x you #deadpool fanfiction

459 notes · View notes

senseofnewness · 5 months ago

Text

SILENT DEVOTION : twisted allegiance

♦ sequel to SILENT DEVOTION ♦

pairing : patrick zweig x f!reader | art donaldson x f!reader | patrick zweig x tashi duncan

rating : explicit

word count : 23.3k

contains : smut 18+, obsession, delusion, stalking, jealousy, toxic relationship, abusive relationship, manipulation, cheating, oral sex, vaginal sex, anal sex, rimming, masturbation, eating disorder

summary : Patrick Zweig had finally noticed you, but not in the way you had always dreamed of. After rekindling his relationship with Tashi only to break up soon after, he turned his attention to you, seeking revenge on both his girlfriend and his distant best friend. There started a secret relationship fueled by twisted desires and mutual manipulation.

Patrick Zweig wrote on your wall. Hey, need to talk to you. Add me on aim (zweigpat).

Your fingers trembled as you clicked on the aim icon and began typing Patrick's username. You had no idea about the matter he wanted to discuss, but specifics were irrelevant in that moment. Patrick Zweig wanted to talk to YOU and no one else. Homework could wait, and grades suddenly felt insignificant. This was far more important. As you typed the first word into the chat box, everything around you faded away, the world growing still and silent.

You: Hey Patrick: Hello! You: So what's up?

The message on your Facebook wall had vanished. Was he trying to hide the fact that he was talking to you? You didn't mind being his dirty little secret. If anything, it made the situation even more thrilling.

Patrick: Nothing much, I was just wondering how are you all doing? You: Sounds like bullshit, what are you scheming Zweig? Patrick: Alright, I want to get back with Tashi… And I don’t know if she would be open to the idea. I know you guys are friends and I thought maybe you could help me with that.

Friends? Hardly. The thought of helping him get back with Tashi made your stomach turn. Patrick was yours, and you knew you could never compete with Tashi. Yet, the temptation was undeniable. You longed to see him back on campus, to have him close, to watch him play tennis with Art, to see him devour lunch. You even missed overhearing him and Tashi through the door.

You: Have you talked to her? She's been quite down since you left..

You couldn't reveal that Patrick was actually the least of her concerns. Her recovery had been long and difficult. As the weeks passed, her prospects of regaining her status as a tennis prodigy grew more and more uncertain.

Patrick: Did she mention me?

She hadn't, but to keep the conversation going, you had to lie.

You: Sure.. Patrick: What did she say? You: Can’t tell you, she’d kill me! Patrick: Come on! You: I can only tell you that she feels lonely.

Considering how much time she was spending with your boyfriend, she was anything but lonely.

Patrick: Noted, thanks <3. How's Art, by the way? He's not really responding to my texts.

The sight of the heart icon on the screen stole your breath away. Butterflies swarmed within you until there was little of you left. Was it genuine? Or was it out of habit? Was this the kind of message he was used to sending to Tashi?

You: We haven’t been talking that much either… Patrick: Did you guys break up? You: Not that I know of, he’s just very busy. Patrick: Busy with what?

You were hesitant to tell him the truth.

You: Guess… Patrick Zweg is typing. Patrick: Oh, so they played us both? B-) You: Don’t worry he will be back when he’s horny. Patrick: Don’t say that. Art’s not that type of guy. He’s a good one.

Patrick held Art in high regard. And Art played that role perfectly. He was charming, endearing, the kind of man destined for marriage and fatherhood, fully devoted to his family. But you didn't desire that with him, and he didn't desire it with you.

After offering reassurances about your relationship with Art, Patrick signed off for tennis practice, leaving you staring at the screen. Finally, you had a means to contact him at any time, day or night.

●

It didn’t take long for Patrick to be back on campus. It appeared that Tashi lacked as much self-restraint as you did when it came to him.

Spotting him in the main quad under one of the colossal arches, despite being fifty feet away, you immediately recognized him by his unique aura. The man-of-your-dreams-you-want-to-ride-to-ruins aura. He leaned against a wall, cigarette in hand, observing some students playing footbag, a grin on his face.

He now sported a short, tousled beard with hints of red highlights. One of your high school girlfriends had once told you that her older boyfriend’s beard had been bleached by her pussy’s juices. You wondered if the same applied to Patrick. If so, who were the lucky girls and how many of them were there? It hadn’t been long since he had returned, yet you found yourself consumed with jealousy. Making yourself sick over a mere speculation, not even a fact.

You also wondered if his cock shared the same fiery hue? In your recollection, dark curls adorned his lower abdomen, though it had been quite some time since you last saw him bare-chested.

As soon as he caught sight of you, he dashed over and enveloped you in a hug, his cigarette dangling from his lips. He appeared before you in a simple ensemble of a sweatshirt and jeans, the fabric obscuring the contours of his arms and thighs that you once found fascination in observing. “Hey you!” Unsure how to respond, you shakingly wrapped your arms around him, returning the embrace. Inhaling deeply, you took in his scent, feeling a closeness you had never experienced before, yet paradoxically distant due to the barrier of his thick clothing. The blend of his cologne and sweat stirred a sense of homesickness within you, as if Patrick had always been where you belonged, your home.

He pulled away from the hug, a huge beam on his face. You were confused by his action. He had never so much as touched you before, so hugging you was a whole new level. Was the sudden intimacy due to the fact that it was only the both of you? Free from the presence of Tashi and Art?

“What brings you here?” You inquired politely. "Tashi." He replied, a sly grin forming on his lips. Your eyebrows arched in surprise. "Oh? Congrats!" You mustered a semblance of happiness, though it was a challenge. What a fucking cunt. You were glad she had brought him back here, but you couldn’t shake the thought of Patrick being all over her later tonight and fucking her like never before. "I should get back. She’s waiting for me. Didn’t want me to smoke inside." He said, extinguishing his cigarette with a stomp. How could she? Watching Patrick smoke was the most enticing thing ever.

“I guess I will see you tomorrow for lunch?” You asked, hopeful. Tashi couldn’t monopolize your man like this. She should at least let you have him for lunch and dinner. Watching Patrick eat was one of your small joys. He was a messy eater and devoured his food as if his strict athlete's diet didn't exist. He often ended up with food all over himself and stains on his shirt, but you found it endearing. Every time, you had to resist the urge to lean over the table and lick his face clean. “Sure, see you.”

●

The day had been dragging on slowly. Classes were boring, and being back at your dorm wasn’t any better. You laid on your bed, staring at the ceiling and waiting for the hours to pass. A knock pulled you out of your reverie. When you opened the door, you found Art standing there with a huge grin on his face. Of course, he was here now that Tashi was busy. “Hey babe.” He enveloped you in a hug and planted a kiss on your jaw. Babe? You had never been the type to use pet names before. "I missed you so much." He mumbled, his mouth all over your neck, covering it with kisses. You knew he was lying, you hadn't crossed his mind a single second before Patrick's return.

You tilted your head, allowing more of his attention, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin. "It’s been so long, I thought I was single." You teased, a playful edge to your voice. Art whined softly at your comment, his pout making him look even more guilty. "You know phones exist, right?" He avoided the question with a nuzzle against your neck, his lips brushing your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine. "You think I’m just going to take you back because you’re acting all cute and affectionate?" He nodded eagerly, his eyes wide and hopeful. "You will have to work for it." Your hand moved to the waistband of his shorts, pulling it back just enough to peek at his growing arousal. "Work very hard." You added, your voice dropping to a husky whisper. Truth was, you didn't really want him back in your life, but horniness was making you take unwise decisions. The logical part of your brain screamed caution, but the way he looked at you, the sight of his beautiful cock, and the familiar scent of him clouded your judgment. Plus, at this exact moment, Patrick was likely balls deep into Tashi and you couldn’t do anything about it.

He flashed a triumphant smile at you, clearly pleased with your response. Without breaking eye contact, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, revealing the toned muscles beneath. Taking your hand, he guided you towards the bed, his touch gentle but insistent. Art’s intentions were clear. He was ready to show just how hard he was willing to work to win you back. The night was young.

●

You: Guess who came back sucking on my tits the second you came back. Patrick As expected? You do have really nice tits.

Had Patrick been paying attention to your body? His words kept replaying in your mind, each repetition making your core grow hotter. You had never considered your breasts as an asset until now. Sure, you knew you had decent-looking boobs, Art had been crazy about them, but realizing that Patrick looked at them with such appreciation changed everything. At that moment, you decided that bras were now out of your life.

You: Did you take a look at Tashi’s tits between two sessions of eyeing mine? How are things going between you two? Patrick: We talked. Kinda. Fucked too.

The news, although very predictable, hit like a sucker punch, knocking the breath from your lungs. You wanted to cry.

You: So that’s why I have Art back. He can’t do anymore ass kissing with Tashi if your tongue’s already there. Patrick: Why are you so mean to him? You: Don’t you think it was unkind to leave me alone for weeks?

Patrick did not respond to the message, leaving your question hanging in the air. Patrick was capable of doing anything except accept the fact that Art was a flawed human being.

●

Lunch in the cafeteria did little to alleviate the tension among all of you. While things seemed fine between you and Art, your relationship with Tashi remained strained. As for Patrick, you didn’t know. One second he was complimenting you and the other giving you the cold shoulder, so it felt. Aside from a few insignificant remarks, everyone was mainly silent. “Let’s go practice.” Art said, nodding toward Tashi. Tashi gave Patrick a gentle kiss on the cheek. You half-expected Art to do the same out of courtesy, but your cheek remained untouched. You didn’t exist when Tashi was around. They gathered their trays and headed to the counter, leaving you and Patrick alone.

“Art is pissed at me, I don’t get it. It’s not like I tripped Tashi.” Patrick blurted out. “Even Tashi forgave me!” He sighed, leaning back in his seat before switching to another. “To be honest with you I never understood why they were mad at you to begin with.” You shrugged. It had all happened so suddenly that you had no time to analyze the situation. Art’s unkindness was still a mystery. “Oh thank god, I thought I was going crazy.” He said, sitting down next to you and grabbing a slice of bread from your tray, taking a bite. There was something oddly captivating about his chewing and the crumbs scattered across his lips. You found yourself wanting to lick them off. “I can try to find out what’s bothering him, if you want.” You offered, your gaze still fixed on his lips. “You’re a saint.” He said, puckering his lips and blowing a kiss at you.

Was this how Patrick Zweig behaved when he saw you as a friend? His overly flirtatious manner was making it difficult for you to think clearly. “Oh, far from it.” You replied absentmindedly, your mind filled with unholy thoughts of laying him on the table, straddling him and tearing his clothes off. “You’re right, I’ve heard things.” He said with a playful grin. You rolled your eyes and stole the slice back from him, taking a bite. “If you want my best guess, he’s just being an ass. That’s his thing lately.”

●

The routine was back on : Art would clandestinely enter your room at night whenever the urge struck him. Without so much as a word or invitation, he'd launch into a monologue about his day. After a few minutes of venting, he'd typically undress you and fuck you until dawn. While the encounters were generally pleasant, not always culminating in climax. Art knew well enough how your body worked to make it worthwhile.

Art was sitting on your bed while you occupied the desk chair, both of you facing each other. "Patrick seems to be worried you're mad at him." You mentioned, uncertain of what response to anticipate. You were already convinced that Art was pissed off at his friend and deep down, you knew why. Would Art lie to you or be brave enough to assume his conflicting feelings toward his friend. As Art unbuttoned his pants, he glanced up at you, his expression almost incredulous. Was the idea of you conversing with Patrick really so unbelievable? "How do you know that? Do you two talk?" He questioned, a nib of jealousy detectable in his voice. "Sometimes. He used to ask a lot about Tashi and you while he was on tour. He wanted to ensure both of you were doing well. He missed you guys tremendously." Art snorted loudly, his tone tinged with amusement at your sudden interest in Patrick. "Typical of him. Chatting with everyone except the ones who matter." He remarked, pulling off his shirt. "He just wanted assurance that you'd be open to hearing from him. Can’t you understand that and be nice?" He tossed the shirt in your direction. "Are you joining the Patrick Zweig fanclub now? Should I call him up so you can give him a warm welcome?" He mimicked a fellatio, his fist thrusting towards his face as his tongue pressed against his cheek. Yes, please, do it. The idea was enticing, you couldn't deny. “You’re insane.” You sighed, standing up and throwing back the shirt with force. "I hate how effortlessly everything falls into place for him. He believes he can simply return, and everything will be back to how it was." You rolled your eyes as you sat beside him and gave his thigh a comforting pat. "He's your closest friend. He came back for you, and yet, you're treating him like shit. At the very least, you should have a conversation with him." You urged, pressing your lips against his in an attempt to soothe him. "He came back for Tashi." He corrected with a hint of frustration. Tashi again. You liked the girl, most of the time, especially when she would get Art out of your hair, but she was beginning to hit on your nerves. "And what if he did? You're always with Tashi too. Would you blame him?"

With a playful shove, you pushed him onto the bed and straddled him, firmly pinning his hands above his head. "Now, be a good boy and make up with your best friend before I really call him and give him a warm welcome." You teased. He laughed, swiftly rolling you over so that he was now on top, his hands gripping your thighs. You appreciated these rare moments when he would take control. "Give me a warm welcome instead." He murmured, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You had to admit, it felt surprisingly good having Art back in your life. He was scratching an itch you couldn’t quite reach on your own. But you weren't naive, you understood why he was there. It irked you that he was playing the same manipulative game you were. If you didn't outwit him quickly, you would end up being the punchline of this twisted joke. You knew it was time to have a serious talk with Tashi.

●

After your passionate moment with Art, he decided to take your advice and talk to Patrick over a game of tennis. With the boys out, you found yourself standing in front of Tashi's door. When she opened it, her surprised expression spoke volumes. "Can I talk to you?" you asked softly. She hesitated only for a moment before widening the door to let you in. The room was filled with Patrick's belongings, his distinctive scent lingering in the air. You sat on her bed and patted the spot next to you, inviting her to join.

"I need to have this conversation with you because I consider you my friend and I trust you." The words felt hollow, a facade masking your true intentions. Initially, your approach was far from genuine, but over time, you'd grown to appreciate and even admire her. Yet her recent distance had revealed how little she valued your friendship and you simply stopped giving a fuck about her. "Even if I felt abandoned by you." You continued, a hint of vulnerability seeping into your voice. She nibbled on her lips, anxiety evident, and nodded. "I know, and I'm sorry about that." She murmured. "I know your injury isn't easy to handle, and I could have been there to help you through it. But you chose Art over me." Here came the guilt-tripping. If you wanted to regain the upper hand, they needed to see how poorly they had treated you. Perhaps realizing how much time they'd spent together lately would open their eyes and finally bring them together, leaving you to be Patrick's shoulder to cry on. "I didn't..." She began to explain, but her words faltered, lacking conviction. "I didn't see either of you for weeks. But then suddenly, yesterday, Art remembered I existed. And I know why. Because last night, you chose Patrick over him." You revealed, trying to play the part of the wronged woman. Lowering your head, you pretended to struggle with voicing your concerns. "You're being ridiculous, we're just friends. I swear." She protested. Whether she truly believed it or was simply an incredible actor, she sounded convincingly sincere.

“I don’t know what is going on between you two…” You played with your nails in an attempt to act hesitant. “Nothing!” She assured you once more. “But please, stop playing with us, it’s unfair. I don’t want to be the girl he uses to jerk off in when you’re not giving attention to him. And I’m sure Patrick doesn't want to be just a dick to you.” The words were crude but necessary.

“Things like this happen all the time. I can understand, I won’t make a scene. But please, stop lying to yourselves. And if I’m wrong and there’s nothing, please make things clear with Art so he finally stops hoping you will notice him.” If she didn't grasp your point now, Tashi Duncan truly was the dumbest girl you knew. "Alright. I will get going. Goodnight, Tashi. I hope I will see you around." She nodded and muttered a small ‘goodnight’ to you.

You closed the door behind you, unable to suppress the smile forming on your lips. Tashi was feeling like shit. Good. You hoped she would question everything in her life. You knew your plan would work better on Tashi than on Art. More than being called a cheater, Tashi dreaded being called a manipulator and a bad friend.

●

You sat on the floor of your room, a magazine in your hands, tensely flipping through the pages but the words and images couldn't hold your attention. You were anxiously waiting for Art to arrive. You were supposed to go out tonight, and part of you wondered if he was trying to make amends for the distance he had put between you over the past few weeks. But he wasn't there. He was more than an hour late, and you had no message from him. Where the hell was he? More than the date itself, you were impatient to find out if Tashi had mentioned your little encounter to him.

Finally, a knock sounded on your door. "Come in!" You called out eagerly. When Patrick entered your room, your voice wavered. How unexpected. “Tashi just broke up with me.” He revealed, prompting you to roll your eyes in response. Your scheming had paid off. Tashi had made her choice, likely explaining Art's absence. A surge of triumph swept over you. However, Patrick appeared devastated so you held it in. Fortunately for him, you would be there to cheer him up.

"Grab a beer from the fridge.” You gestured, hoping to ease him into opening up to you. Gaining his trust was crucial, it could lead to anything. "What was the reason?" You inquired casually, masking your enthusiasm. "She said she realized what we had was going nowhere." He replied, bending over to retrieve a bottle from the fridge. Your gaze lingered on the curve of his backside. What a firm tasty looking ass.

"So I guess that's why Art's not answering." You questioned, though you already knew the answer. Flipping a page, you pretended to be deeply engrossed in your reading. "We were supposed to see each other, but I guess I'm nothing next to Tashi Duncan." You muttered, reflecting on how your perception of her had changed in just just a few minutes. You used to think Tashi Duncan was the shit, the girl who had everything you wanted. She had Patrick, a promising future, passion, and beauty. Now, she was just a single girl with a shattered future and a useless passion.

"What's his deal?" Patrick asked as he uncapped the bottle and settled down in front of you, his long, muscular legs crossed. Even the simplest gestures from Patrick ignited a fire within you, leaving your body warm and your mouth dry. You found yourself mesmerized by the curl pattern of his leg hairs and how his shorts barely grazed his thighs, revealing faint tan lines. "I'm not sure he's into me." You confessed, feeling vulnerable in Patrick's presence for the first time. Everything before had been calculated to sneak yourself into his life, but now you spoke the truth. No matter how much you had manipulated Art, it seemed he was playing you back. "Who wouldn't be into you?" Patrick's words echoed in your mind. Who indeed? Then why, Patrick, aren't you? You knew he was merely being kind, yet his comment caused your heart to skip a beat. You lifted your gaze to meet his, offering a grateful smile.

"I think his heart is elsewhere." You stated, locking eyes with him. "I'm sure there isn't anything between him and Tashi." He attempted to reassure you, though you sensed his own growing doubts. "I don't mean just Tashi." You interjected, raising your eyebrows, silently urging him to catch on. It took him a minute. "Oh. I don't think Art swings that way." He chuckled nervously, taking a sip of his beer to deflect the tension. "Do you?" You asked, curious to discover more about the man you had loved for so many years.

He gazed into the void, quiet for a few moments before sighing and shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know. Maybe?” His eyes absentmindedly fixed on your magazine. So it seemed boys were in fact also in the competition for Patrick’s heart. You fought the urge to sigh in frustration, not wanting to appear judgmental about his sexuality. “I actually had a crush on Art back when we were teenagers. Did he tell you about the jerking off?” His eagerness to share the story was palpable. “He did. We had a pretty wild night after that.” You replied, recalling the intense masturbation competition you both had after the story.

"You're welcome." He chuckled, flattered by the revelation. You had never truly noticed the timbre of his laughter before, finding it almost heavenly. If you weren't already deeply in love with him, you might have fallen again right then. In that fleeting moment, you found yourself fixating on his teeth, marveling at their straightness and whiteness despite his smoking habit. When he grinned, it was like he had more teeth than seemed humanly possible, each one perfect in their own way. The desire to feel them sink into you surged through you, an urgent need that couldn't be ignored. You needed him. Tonight, you decided, would be the night you fucked Patrick Zweig. But for that, you had to make a move. "You know, my first time humping a pillow sort of involved you too.” You confessed, finally revealing one of your deepest secrets to someone else.

"Me?" You nodded, then continued with the story. "I was a young, impressionable girl, and what's more impressive than sweaty, shirtless tennis players? You just happened to be there." You lied. He was the sole focus of those fantasies. There was no one else present, just Patrick and his ridiculously tight shorts. Like tonight, just you and him and those damn shorts. "You're welcome, once more." He teased, bowing as if he were an actor on the stage of your imagination. "You should have approached me back then. I would have gladly helped you make those fantasies more vivid, maybe by showing you a ball or something." He remarked with a playful smile, to which you managed to respond, though inwardly you felt like crumbling. Years spent trying to capture his attention had led to nothing. And now, he was casually admitting to being open to anyone back then? Did that mean you weren't good enough to be even just ‘anyone’? "Do you ever remember seeing me back then?" You asked him, needing to hear the truth, no matter how painful. He pondered it for a moment, long enough for you to realize he didn't recall. "I wish I could.” He replied. Why did he wish that? Did he see your presence in his life as something valuable? You remained silent, your gaze fixed on the magazine, trying to absorb the words on the page to keep tears at bay.

"What about you, by the way? Have you ever experimented with a girl?" His question broke the silence, and you silently appreciated him for that, despite the randomness of the inquiry. You could feel yourself sink into sadness before that. “Maybe?” You answered briefly. “That’s all? Tell me more!” He took a sip of his beer and leaned closer, eager to hear your story. “It was brief and innocent so don’t get excited.” You sighed, pointing your index finger at him. “Too late!” He joked, smirking at you. “Your girlfriend, well ex.” You continued, noting the sudden change in his expression. His face had dropped instantly. “Just a kiss.” You reassured him. “I’m not sure how I would label myself but that night if she had wanted to experiment more, I think I would have gone along with it.” It was true, you would have fucked Tashi, regardless of whether Patrick had been involved or not. “Believe me, Tashi has experience with girls.” He remarked, leaving you momentarily stunned. It made perfect sense, though you felt a pang of disappointment. “Oh so it was just me not being her type?” You feigned heartbreak, clutching your chest as he nonchalantly shrugged in response. In reality, that revelation really stung, another missed chance to explore what Patrick had experienced. “That’s ok, I’m still young. I have time to fulfill my fantasies.” You said with a pretended tear-wiping gesture, masking your true feelings.

"What kind?" His question felt intrusively intimate. His body so close to yours as he was delving into your kinks. This scene reminded you of the scenarios you often imagined late at night while teasing your clit. “I don’t know. There are many things I haven’t experienced. Like eating a girl out, pegging, cuckolding, choking, stuff like that.” Why did admitting your kinks in front of Patrick make you feel embarrassed? You wanted him to see you as someone open to anything, a woman comfortable with her sexuality, and the epitome of a cool girl.

"Choking? Art doesn't even do that?" He asked, confusion written all over his face. Art had probably recounted the one disastrous attempt you both had made. "Not really." You admitted with a sigh. "We tried, but he's too scared he will hurt me so he was more or so… hugging my neck, like a scarf." You grabbed the beer from his hand, took a sip, and then placed it back in front of him. "I should give him a class.” He joked, smirking at you. "Oh, so you're an expert?" You teased, feeling the conversation shift into flirtation. You had to analyze your game and play your cards right. You watched him gulp down the rest of the beer, a proud smile spreading across his face. He nodded.

"The trick is…" He began. "...to place your hand near the collarbone, not up here." He pointed to the area beneath his chin. "It's not about applying too much pressure, unless that’s what you’re into, of course. It's about holding firmly. And it's better to squeeze the sides of the neck rather than the front."

"Like this?" You placed your hand around your neck, attempting to follow his advice.

"No, wait. Stand up." He instructed. Both of you stood, and he placed his calloused used-up hand around your thin neck, gripping it firmly. In that moment, you felt like his racket between his hands. You let out a slight gasp, licking your lips as your eyes locked with his. The moment his hand closed around your neck, you realized it wasn't the sensation of being choked that enticed you. It was the feeling of surrendering control, of putting your life in someone else's hands, that made your legs tremble. Without thinking, you reached for his crotch, grabbing his dick through his shorts. He was semi-hard. He looked at you, confusion flickering across his face as he immediately released his grip on your neck. "Don't do that, or I won't be able to control myself." He warned. You had crossed the line, there was no way back now.

You surely didn’t want him to control himself. You craved for him to take you right there, right then. Continuing to stroke his length, the fabric was the only thing separating you from the object of your fantasies. He buried his face against your shoulder, a mixture of neediness and hesitation evident in his actions. You slipped your hand into his underwear and pulled out his dick. After hearing Tashi talk about it so much, you had imagined plenty of things, but the reality was beyond your expectations. While its length was a bit above average, it was the girth that was truly remarkable. You couldn’t ignore the sight of his uncircumcised head. You had only seen those in porn before, and you weren’t sure how to proceed. "Wow…” You stepped back until you reached your desk, sensing his inner conflict about whether to retreat as well. Perching on the edge of the desk, you seized the elastic of his pants and pulled him closer. You licked your palm, ensuring it was slick with saliva, then wrapped your hand around his length. Slowly, you pulled back his foreskin to reveal his head. Your eyes remained fixed on the captivating beauty of Patrick's member. Patrick’s hands, which had been resting still on your knees, slowly made their way up your legs. His touch burnt your skin. If he touched your thighs just right, you knew you could come on the spot. His hands were now under your dress, exploring the fabric of your panties. You were thankful that Patrick had found you on a date night. You were clean, shaven, and wearing your sexiest underwear. You gasped when you felt one of his hands slip inside your panties, his fingers brushing against your folds. Oh my god, Patrick Zweig was touching your pussy, and you were touching Patrick Zweig’s dick. You bit your lower lip, anticipating as he rubbed your cunt. You continued to jerk him off, reveling in the sounds you were eliciting from him.

In a swif movement, he slid the straps of your dress down, exposing your bare tits. With one hand, he fondled your breast, while his index finger delved inside you. Leaning in closer, he circled your nipple with the tip of his tongue. "Patrick..." It was the first time you had moaned his name directly to him, a name usually reserved for your private moments alone. You parted your legs, inviting him closer, still stroking him energetically with your hand. A second finger quickly joined his buried index but you wanted more, you wanted him. "Fuck me..." You pleaded, gazing at him with desperate eyes. He met your gaze and withdrew his hand from your panties, stirring a whimper from you at the loss of contact. You could sense the conflict in his expression. He knew it was wrong, but the desire was overwhelming. You knew it was for you. He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling heavily, then shifted the crotch of your underwear aside. You felt the tip of him rubbing against your entrance before he swiftly entered you. If he wrestled with his conscience, it was a fleeting battle. You wrapped one leg around his hip and gripped his buttcheeks, pulling him closer to you, seeking the intimacy and connection you had desired with him for years.

There was nothing tender or affectionate about your actions, you both moved with an animalistic urgency. Patrick was fucking you in a way that no one had before. The noises escaping your lips were uncontrollable, matched by Patrick's own passionate moans. Determined to give him an unforgettable experience, you poured all your energy into matching his thrusts with your own, both of you lost in ecstasy. While Patrick lavished attention on your nipples, your lips yearned for his touch, craving attention amidst the raw intensity of your pounding.

Both of you were so absorbed in outperforming each other, striving to make the other come the quickest, that neither of you noticed the sound coming from the door. There were insistent knocks. “It’s me, I’m sorry I’m so late.” Hours late, Art's voice finally came through the door. Patrick placed his hand over your mouth to silence you. The presence of Art outside seemed to drive him to fuck you even harder. You sank your teeth into his hand and tugged at his hair, determined to elicit delicious sounds from him. You were silenced but he wasn’t. You were willing to risk being caught just from the thrill of it. Just for the sensation it would bring you in that exact moment.

“I talked to Tashi… I understand if you’re mad…” Oh, you were the opposite of mad right now. “Text me if you’re awake.” And with that he left. Had Art been more persistent and attempted to turn the doorknob, he would have stumbled upon you, legs entwined around his closest friend, who was avidly thrusting into you with his shorts pooled around his ankles.

Patrick's hand left your mouth and returned around your neck, the other firmly gripping your ass. The lack of air made you desperate to moan his name, but all that escaped were gasps as you tightened your legs around him, drawing him nearer. Despite feeling dizzy, you continued to bounce against him eagerly.

You longed for him to meet your gaze and kiss you, but Patrick kept his head resting on your shoulder, eyes closed. The only sounds were the manifestations of his pleasure through his moans and cries. You sensed his body shudder against yours as he gripped the base of his dick, preparing to withdraw.

“No! Fill me up, please.” You begged, voice barely audible. You reached between you, grasping for his balls and squeezing one firmly. They were full, brimming just for you, and you couldn't bear to waste a drop of that precious seed. “I’m on the pill.” You assured him. Patrick only needed little persuasion to remain deep inside you. As a final effort, you tightened around him, intent on luring every last drop from him. He grunted your name as he climaxed inside you. His gaze locked on you as you welcomed his release, each slow thrust pushing you closer to the edge. It was watching Patrick reach his peak and call your name that finally pushed you over, making you explode in a breathy moan.

Patrick Zweig had come inside you. You had made Patrick Zweig come. You! Patrick Zweig! The reality of it was almost surreal, but the warm sensation inside you served as a proof.

He finally released your neck, and you let out a loud gasp, panting to catch your breath. As he slowly pulled out, you whined at the loss of contact, quickly closing your legs to keep his load inside you for as long as possible. The silence that followed made you anxious. He had not said a word yet, just looked at you, biting his lower lip nervously. Was he regretting it already? Then he started laughing. What the hell was so funny? He wrapped his arms around you, resting his head against your breast. You let yourself melt into his embrace, stroking his hair. "I wanted to do that for a while.” He confessed. Did he? Really? "Me too." You replied quickly, relief and joy flooding through you.

●

Afterwards, you had continued to fool around in your bed for hours. Mouths and fingers exploring every body part. Now it was daylight and you laid sprawled across him, your limbs entangled in an intimate embrace. Your head rested on his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat like a comforting melody. As your fingers twirled the soft curls of his chest hair, Patrick held you close, his fingertips gently caressing your hip in a soothing motion. You wanted him to fuck you once more, but something seemed to be holding him back.

You could hardly believe it had happened. The only evidence was the state of your sheets: wet and stained with various body fluids. And the ache in your cervix. Tashi had been right about that too. Patrick loved sliding himself fully inside, regardless of the pain it caused.

The delicate way he touched you felt far more intimate than when he was inside you earlier. You still craved his kiss, which he refused to give. Every single time you had tried to move closer to his face, you were met with his cheek. Weren’t you good enough for him?

“I’m going to break up with him. As soon as I regain the use of my legs.” Patrick chuckled, playfully hitting your thigh. “No, don't do that.” No? Why not? You just had sex with your boyfriend’s best friend. Wasn’t this the beginning of your life with Patrick? “If he’s going to mess around with my girlfriend, I might as well borrow you from him.” Your heart sank. Was this all it was? Revenge? You wanted forever with Patrick, not just a quickie to get back at his ex and his friend. Yet, if this was the only way to have him, you were willing to be part of his scheme. “You know I messed around with your girlfriend too.” You reminded him, hoping he would see how ridiculous his plan sounded. “Should I fuck Art to get back at you then?” He proposed. Okay, so he thought all of this was a joke. “Only if you let me watch.” You said, a smirk on your face. You were going to play his game until he would realize that you are the only one for him. You could do that. Fuck Art. Literally and figuratively. In response, he pinched one of your nipples. You whined, sinking your teeth into his in return. “Do you have any place to stay tonight?” You asked, covering his chest with gentle pecks. You were curious to know if he would accept Art’s invitation to sleep on the floor of his dorm when you had a perfectly good bed for him. All he had to do was fuck you.. "I guess Art’s room.” So you weren’t even good to sleep next to. “Art invited me to the Kappa Sigma party." Patrick mentioned casually. Ah yes, the party. You had received an invitation as well. The captain of the tennis club, a frat boy, had extended invitations to the entire club. It appeared both you and Patrick were Art's plus ones.

You weren't particularly looking forward to the event. Tennis players were so… psychotic. Except Patrick, of course.

“I’m invited too. Won’t it be awkward to be in the same room as Art?” You traced kisses up his neck, following the curve to his jaw. Gradually, you moved towards his lips, but just as you approached, he turned his head, and your lips brushed against his cheek. He still refused to kiss you. You had fantasies of becoming his little whore for years, and now those desires were becoming a reality. You were only good enough for his cock. “Why would it be? You’re his girlfriend, I’m his best friend.”

●

After a second and third round, Patrick finally left your room. Despite the hurtful words he sometimes spoke, having sex with him felt instinctive. Whether your legs were draped over his shoulders, wrapped around his waist, or spread beneath him, he always knew how to make you come.

Time had come to prepare for the party.

The most challenging part of your routine came first : taking a shower and erasing every trace of him. Unsure of whether you would be able to experience feeling Patrick so deeply inside again. The fleeting thought of stopping your pill and keeping your legs crossed for a couple days to try and baby-trap him had crossed your mind. Yet, you quickly had dismissed it. If you weren't good enough to be kissed, surely you weren't the ideal candidate to be the mother of his children. Yet. You had to convince yourself that it was only because he didn’t know you well enough yet, to prevent bursting into tears in the shower.

Once you finished cleaning yourself, you turned on the radio, filling the bathroom with music as you applied makeup in front of the mirror. You had gotten better at this. With effort, you could clean up nicely. Gray eyeshadow was a reliable choice as well that complemented any outfit, ensuring you couldn't go wrong. Adding a touch more blush than necessary, you finished with pink lipstick. Releasing your hair from its tie, you slipped into a short red dress with spaghetti straps. You paused to scrutinize your reflection in the mirror. Your stomach had flattened noticeably, yet it still lacked the tone you desired. You also noticed the creases your thong was creating against your hips. You discarded the problematic underwear and replaced it with simple black lacy panties. It wasn’t the most appealing choice when naked, but it looked much better under your dress. You doubted you would end up with Patrick tonight anyway. At best, you might lure a drunken Art into your bed, and that man didn’t care about anything other than your bare cunt.

Art and Patrick knocked on your door around 8 PM. When you opened it, they stood side by side, the tension between them seemingly dissolved. Was mutual betrayal the secret to a long lasting friendship? They looked striking together, almost like a destined pair drawn to each other despite their differences. Art, the polished one, sported blue jeans paired with a buttoned-up blue shirt, his hair styled just the way he knew you liked. Patrick, the more casual counterpart, wore a black T-shirt, that you knew was borrowed from Art, and washed denim jeans. His hair, ruffled and wild, seemed to have escaped a brush since you had viciously tugged on it earlier. Art was a sight, you knew it by the heads turning every time he walked into a room. But Patrick was the one who cut your breath away.

"Hey babe." Art greeted, planting a soft kiss on your lips. "Looking good.” He added, his eyes sweeping over you from head to toe. "You look like a slut." Patrick mouthed. You beamed at him. From that man? That was the best compliment you could get. "Thank you." You answered Art, though your gratitude was directed at Patrick. “Hello Patrick.” You greeted him. He only responded with a nod.

The frat house lay just a short ten-minute walk from your dorm, yet at that moment, you regretted choosing high heels over flats. Why did girls always have to dress sexy, enduring the cold just to catch the eye of their crush? Shivering slightly, you felt Art's arm wrap around your waist, drawing you close as you walked together. Patrick trailed behind, silent.

Arriving there, the frat house lived up to your expectations : it was smelly and not particularly clean. You stayed close to Art and Patrick as a group of boys and girls engaged in a lively discussion about the next tennis match. Their enthusiasm for the sport amused you. In that moment, you couldn't help but think of tennis players as the nerds among jocks. As the conversation shifted to the US Open, you noticed Patrick had drifted away. Probably dreading the moment they would finally ask him how his career was doing. Spotting him leaning against a wall with a beer in hand, you couldn't suppress your grin, feeling like a lovesick schoolgirl showing all her teeth. He returned your smile. A simple gesture that filled you with warmth knowing you were the reason behind that blinding smirk.

Your moment was interrupted by Art’s hand on your back, inattentively stroking it. His fingertips ventured under the stram of your dress, lightly tickling your skin beneath the fabric. While you and Art weren’t the most affectionate couple in public, reserving touch for intimate moments, his gesture on your back was one of the few he dared to display openly. You sensed Patrick's gaze burning into your back, his stare affecting you more than Art’s touch. You watched him drink his beer, his eyes fixed on your back. When he finally looked up and met your gaze, he tilted his head, silently commanding you to follow as he left the room. Without hesitation, you stood and followed him, though you quickly lost sight of him. Suddenly, a hand grabbed you, pulling you into the bathroom. It was Patrick, leading you into a cubicle. Once inside, he locked the door behind you both.

The small cubicle barely had enough room for both of you, and the smell made you want to gag. But those details were insignificant, your heart was pounding faster than ever. Patrick had requested you. He set his empty beer on top of the toilet and stood before you. "Blow me." He commanded in a whisper, his gaze fixed intently on you.

He didn't need to ask twice. You dropped to your knees before him. There was something deeply degrading about kneeling on the piss-stained floor of a frat house bathroom, but you were more than willing to endure it for Patrick. You unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped them, then pulled his pants and underwear down his legs.

This was all you had ever wanted : to worship him like the god he was. Kneeling before him, you showed your devotion, rubbing your face against his full sack, nuzzling him like an animal in heat. You never knew a smell could make you so wet until now, the mix of sweat, soap and musk drove you wild. You tried to wrap your lips around one of his balls, eager to suck on it, wanting them in your mouth. Looking up, you saw him watching you with curiosity. Maybe you should save your freaky side for later.

Grasping the base of his cock, you trailed your tongue along his shaft, coating him with saliva. You looked up, striving to maintain eye contact with him. You wanted him to see how well you were taking him, to realize that you were made for him, that your mouth was meant to receive him. You pulled his foreskin back, licking around the crown and flicking your tongue over his slit. He whimpered, running his hands through your hair before grabbing handfuls and tugging on it. Wrapping your lips around his length, you started giving his cock big sloppy sucks, cheeks hollowed. "Look at you..." He whispered, before pushing himself deeper into your mouth. You moaned at his action, sending vibrations to the head of his cock nestled at the back of your throat. While you loved having him inside your pussy, nothing compared to the sensation of him filling your mouth. Cupping his sack, you started palming it, applying just the right amount of pressure. You bobbed your head, taking more of him with each movement. As his pubes began to tickle your nose, you knew you were close to taking him fully. Yet, you pulled away, wanting him to beg you to swallow his nut. “No, don’t stop, please…” That was fast.

In an effort to make this as pleasurable as possible, you teasingly licked your index finger, sucking on it long enough to give him the chance to stop you if he wasn’t comfortable. When he didn't, you placed the wet tip against his asshole, pushing past the barrier of flesh slowly, quarter inch by quarter inch. You weren’t sure if Patrick had ever experienced anything there before, but he didn’t seem to mind your finger seeking out his sweet spot. Your curiosity had led you to spend hours researching prostates online, so you knew exactly how to find it. You curled your finger, applying pressure to his prostate, causing him to whine. He loved it.

Your lips returned to their place, wrapped around his length and Patrick wasn’t static anymore. He was now fucking your throat like you were just a hole for him to use. Each thrust drove his tip against the back of your throat. Drool dripped uncontrollably from your mouth. You gagged once but quickly refocused, determined to keep your throat open. It felt as if your future with Patrick hinged on the quality of this blowjob. Tonight, no sore jaw or nausea would stand in the way of your goal. Your finger movements matched the rhythm of his thrusts, intensifying the sensation. After a few minutes of intense sucking, he pulled back slightly, keeping just the head of his cock in your mouth. He was throbbing. He came, mouth agape and eyes shut in ecstasy. God, he looked stunning.

You swallowed his semen and stuck your tongue out, showing him what a good girl you were. You had swallowed a lot of Art’s cum in the past, but this had been an entirely different experience. A revelation. You had tasted Patrick, and now you wanted to consume him whole, to suck him dry every hour until his balls ached and he begged you to stop. You craved only his DNA inside you, nobody else, not even yours. You wanted to disappear and become an extension of him.

Patrick rubbed the tip of his dick against your tongue, making sure he was clean. He then wiped the corner of your mouth with his thumb, fixing your smeared makeup. Your makeup was now ornamenting the base of his dick. You withdrew your finger from inside him. He started dressing up next, hiding his still semi-hard cock in his underwear, adjusting it. You helped him pull up and zip his pants before rising to your feet. It was time to leave. This was usually when he would begin to act distant, as if you somehow repulsed him in a post-nut clarity. Smiling awkwardly, unsure how to behave, you exited the cubicle.

Although a part of you had wanted to lick your finger clean and get another taste of him, you had opted to scrub your hands with soap instead, not wanting him to think of you as even more of a freak. You were bent over the sink when he placed his hand on your butt, massaging it firmly. You weren’t disgusting to him anymore? You could feel one of his fingers pressing against your asshole through your underwear trying to return the favor. “You have the most fuckable ass on earth.” He whispered into your ear, his warm breath tickling you. Was he out of his mind? You had starved and pushed yourself to your limits to get a butt like Tashi's, and you were still far from achieving it and yet he wanted to fuck yours. You looked at him, confused, in the mirror's reflection, almost in awe that the man of your dreams was drawn to you. "It sounds so tempting, but you know we can't stay here forever…" If the thrill of being caught was a motivation for him to act interested in you, you could play along. Patrick's fingers were now caressing you through the fabric, from your clit to your ass. He could feel how wet you were. You let out a gasp and quickly slapped his hand away. "Behave, and maybe I'll accidentally leave my room unlocked tonight." You left the bathroom first, trying to appear inconspicuous. No one was around to see Patrick following you out of the cramped restroom.

When you joined him, Art was engrossed in conversation with his classmates about a demanding coach and difficult training, topics that went over your head. Had he paid any attention to you, he would have seen the smeared makeup and disheveled hair, but he didn’t. You found their discussion boring and wished they would talk about something more general. Boys could be so boring. Except Patrick, there was nothing dull about Patrick. Where was he now by the way?

You scanned the room, expecting to find him alone in a corner or engaged in conversation with some guys. But that fucker had chosen to piss you off. Your attention was drawn to two girls deep in conversation with Patrick. Both were attractive, one a tall redhead and the other a petite brunette. Though they were only chatting, you sensed their interest in him. It seemed everyone wanted to fuck Patrick given the chance. One of his remarks made them both laugh. Who the hell were those whores? The only thing that reassured you in this situation was the way his eyes would occasionally meet yours while he spoke, as if he was silently watching over you.

You leaned closer to Art, resting your head on his shoulder, hoping to elicit a reaction from Patrick, but nothing. You needed to grab his attention. You trailed soft kisses from Art's shoulder to his neck and finally whispered behind his ear. "I really want to kiss you." You attempted to sound seductive, but your voice remained raspy from the aftermath of Patrick's cock forcing its way down your throat.

Art smiled at you and leaned closer, offering himself to you. You eagerly grabbed his face between your hands and passionately kissed him. His lips tasted like liquor and you could tell he had consumed a significant amount by his lack of concern regarding the presence of his peers witnessing the sloppy kiss happening before their eyes. You were practically shoving your tongue down his throat. The idea of kissing him with the very same mouth that had just taken Patrick’s load moments earlier was more thrilling than the kiss itself. Would Art taste his best friend on your tongue? Would he attribute the tangy aftertaste to the drink you had earlier? As you pulled away, you noticed Patrick watching you both with a smirk. You could tell he had thought the same exact thing as you.

You pulled away and whispered into Art's ear. "Baby, I'm really tired. I'm going to sleep. See you tomorrow." You kissed him goodnight and left the common room.

You already anticipated that Patrick would follow you to your room minutes later to finally have what he couldn't get earlier.

●

The doorknob to your bedroom turned, and you knew it was him. You were lying in your bed, on your stomach in your underwear, pretending to read a book. In reality, you had meticulously prepared yourself the first few minutes, ensuring you were immaculately clean inside. The remaining quarter of an hour was dedicated to selecting the perfect position for him to discover you in. After locking the door behind him, he stood for a moment, taking in the sight of you, before sitting on the edge of the bed. His hand roamed over your thighs and the curve of your butt.

"I can’t believe you kissed Art with that nasty mouth." He chuckled, playing with the elastic of your panties, his fingers brushing against your ass cheek. You dropped your book on the floor, rolled onto your back and looked at him with a taunting smile. “Oh I’m sure he loved the taste of it.” You teased. His hand now rested on your lower stomach, gently stroking it with light fingers. Your skin was burning under his touch. He seemed much less interested in that part of your body. “I used to spit his jizz back into his mouth and he would always swallow it like a good boy.” Patrick let out an unexpected snort, the sound echoing softly in the quiet of your bedroom, catching you off guard. Was he making fun of you? “I can’t believe you even exist.” What did that even mean? Was he repulsed by you and your actions? The fact that his hand lingered so close to your womanhood, yet he refrained from touching you to ease the fire in you, didn’t reassure you much. What if you had ruined everything?

He leaned in closer, closing the distance between your faces. It was something you had observed about Patrick before : how intimately he needed to be to communicate. He looked at you with a yearning in his eyes, a playful giggle escaping his lips. It was clear he had indulged in a few drinks as well. "What?" You asked, a smile on your lips as your eyes remained locked with his mesmerizing green gaze. "I want to taste that tongue too." He said. Oh god, it was happening, the moment you had always waited for, when everything in your life would suddenly click into place. "Then do it." You teased, sticking your tongue out playfully at him. Kissing him would mean crossing a new boundary in your relationship. It wouldn't just be about fulfilling primal desires, it would also satisfy your craving for affection.

You could feel the heat of his breath mingling with yours. You closed your eyes as his tongue brushed against yours with an hesitant lick. His light touch, more a hesitant exploration than a proper kiss, initially caught you off guard. Deciding to take charge, you closed the remaining distance and drew him into a proper kiss, imbued with urgency.

You wanted to consume him entirely, to have him whole within your mouth. Your lips pressed fervently against his, tongues dancing and exploring. Patrick tasted of beer, a sharp reminder of his earlier indulgence and the actions that followed. In that heated moment, you wondered if he could sense the lingering taste of his own flesh and Art's touch upon your tongue. The kiss was wet, a bit too eager, your mouths struggling to find harmony. Patrick was a messy kisser, and you savored every chaotic second of it. His enjoyment was evident in the sounds he made : a captivating blend of moans and gasps for air.

Saliva mixed as your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, wanting more of him, needing more of this connection. His hands found your hip, drawing you in until there was no space left between your bodies. Each movement desperate, as if trying to convey all the unspoken words and feelings you had kept hidden all at once.

When you parted to catch your breath, you kept your lips pressed against his, inhaling his oxygen as if it were your own. Wow. You thought, still trembling from the encounter. Your world would never be the same now that you had experienced such bliss. Once more, the visions washed over you, images of wedding, babies, and growing old together. But they were abruptly interrupted by Patrick's impatience. "Roll over, I want to see your ass." He demanded. He didn't need to repeat himself. You existed to fulfill his every command. If he desired you as his slave, you would oblige without hesitation. You surrendered onto your stomach, glancing sideways to observe his next move. He gently pulled down your panties, and you assisted by lifting your hips. His hand came down hard on your butt, delivering a sharp spank that silenced any further movement from you. A startled moan escaped your lips in response. It seemed like if there was one thing in this world Patrick Zweig took seriously, it was ass play. After the sting of the slap, he replaced it with warm, tender kisses on your bottom. He slid his fingers between your cheeks, circling your asshole before gliding down to your womanhood, plunging his index finger inside you. "You're so wet for me..." He murmured. You bit your lower lip, nodding eagerly. You were always wet when it came to him, as if his presence kept you in a constant state of arousal. He added a second finger, spreading them apart to widen you. "Get on all fours for me. Spread those sweet cheeks of yours." He commanded. You obeyed without hesitation, getting on your knees and reaching back to spread yourself open for him. Your chest supported your body weight as you positioned yourself, completely exposed and vulnerable, offering yourself fully to your lover, your panties hanging on your legs.

Then, his lips joined in, and you felt his tongue on your clit, softly sucking the bud. A moan of his name escaped your lips. His face was buried deeply between your legs, the tip of his nose brushing against your entrance. It was so different from when Art went down on you. Art was meticulous and slow, but Patrick was messy and eager, mirroring his kissing. You couldn't tell if you were extra wet or if Patrick was just salivating like a starving man. His tongue slid up to your asshole, and he began flicking it there, sending shivers through your entire body. His fingers had withdrawn from inside you, but they still lingered, teasing your swollen folds, roughly massaging your clit, almost abusing it. You were a moaning mess. It was the first time Patrick took the time to focus solely on your pleasure. Sure, it was likely a prelude to fucking you afterward, but for now, his own gratification wasn’t directly involved. He just wanted to make you come. He was lavishing you with long, deliberate strokes of his tongue, starting from your ass and trailing to your pussy, teasingly inserting the tip into both openings each time. As his tongue worked its magic on your pussy, you felt the waves of your first orgasm building. You gasped, pushing your hips back toward him. "Pat-..." You moaned, your legs trembling, making it difficult to stay on all fours.

His fingers neared your asshole, his index circling it before slipping the first joint inside, your juices acting as lubricant. The sensation was underwhelming, you could barely feel his touch. Why was he acting like you were a virgin? Why was he handling you so gently? You yearned for him to ravish you like a wild animal. "Fuck me already!" You whimpered, glancing back at him. He withdrew, gazing at you as if seeking confirmation, then hastily pulled off his shirt and unbuttoned his pants, kicking them off in a rush.

"Got any lube?" You nodded, opening the bedside drawer. It was filled with an assortment of accessories that made Patrick snort. "You’re well prepared." He joked, leaning over you to rummage through the drawer. When he grabbed the lube and started to pour some onto his fingers, you stopped him. "Not too much. I want to feel you stretching me…" You said, watching as he bit his lower lip, clearly affected by your words. He coated his length with a quick stroke of his hand, then positioned himself behind you, teasingly rubbing his tip against your entrance. You had always thought it was impossible to hate Patrick but in that moment, you found yourself oddly resentful of Patrick. After several agonizing strokes along your crack, he finally pushed himself into your ass. You gasped, unprepared for the sudden fullness and the way he stretched you wide. You expected him to at least take his time with his cock, that wasn’t the case.

"You've got all these toys, but deep down, you're just a cockslut." He remarked. And maybe he was right. After all, most of those toys had been used with thoughts of Patrick's cock in mind. "Look at you, swallowing me whole. So hungry." He observed as you clenched around him with all your might. It wasn't as effortless as he made it sound, but there was no need for him to know that.

He rested his hands on both your hips and began moving inside you at a deliberate pace. You instinctively pushed back against him, syncing your movements with his. The sensation of his balls slapping against your entrance sent a rush of heat through you. His balls were undeniably your favorite part of him. Was it because of their symbolic significance, representing the potential to mother his child one day? Or was it their aesthetic appeal, hanging so perfectly beneath his thick cock? You couldn't quite pinpoint the reason. Releasing your grip on your cheek, you placed your hand over his on your hip, interlacing your fingers with his as he thrust into you with increasing intensity. Oh my god, you were holding Patrick Zweig’s hand. Well, sort of.

You really were losing it. Patrick Zweig was fucking you in the ass, and all you could fixate on was the sensation of your hands touching. “Fuck, you’re so tight…” He murmured, spurring you to tighten even more for him. As enjoyable as his thrusts were, it was his voice and fervor that pulled the moans from your lips. His free hand left your hip and stealthily made its way to your clit, massaging it with the same intensity as his movements. The combination of his fingers on your sensitive bud and the rhythmic impact of his balls against you sent waves of exquisite pleasure through your body.

You glanced back at him and were struck by his breathtaking beauty. Sweat droplets clung to his hair and nose, his mouth hung half-open, and his eyes were locked on the point where your bodies met. When he caught your gaze, he placed a firm hand on your head, pressing you into the pillow. Without missing a beat, he continued to ram into you, his grip holding you down as he drove you both to the edge.

Tears streamed down your face, but there was no pain, only an overwhelming sense of euphoria. This was divine. The joy of being with him, of fulfilling his desires, consumed you entirely. It was an ecstasy you could no longer contain. "More…" You pleaded, pressing yourself closer to him, needing him with an intensity that bordered on desperation. He was pounding into you like a man possessed, your comfort an afterthought. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, a rhythm that matched the frantic beat of your heart. The delicious sound filled your ears, heightening your pleasure. When your second orgasm took you over, you weren’t quite ready for it. You wanted to explode at the same time as him to experience bliss by his side but your body had betrayed you. You tightened around his cock and let out a high-pitched moan, almost too quiet to hear. Patrick continued a few more thrusts before reaching his own climax and when he finally came, he collapsed onto you, pressing you into the bed. His chest heaved against your back, his breath hot on your neck, his cock still buried deep between your cheeks. You felt him more intensely than ever before, his heat consuming you from the inside out. Breathless, sweaty and tear-streaked, you buried your face in the pillow, feeling him panting above you. He brushed the hair off your face and kissed your neck tenderly. “Wow… baby…” He whispered in your ear. Baby? If he wanted to kill you, he had just found the way.

●

Patrick had stayed the night, and it had been far more intimate than the previous one. After fucking, you both had showered together, which inevitably had led to more sex. The shower had felt somewhat pointless as you had ended up lying naked together on your stained sheets. Patrick had lit a cigarette, and amidst casual conversation that covered everything and nothing, he had mentioned his concerns about the tour not going well. You did your best to reassure him, emphasizing how he was the best player you knew and only needed to regain his confidence. He had also confided in you about the pressure from his parents to pursue a more conventional career. You had always assumed being the golden child of a wealthy family would be the easiest thing in the world, but Patrick seemed to be struggling under the weight of his family's expectations. After discussing his challenges, he had turned the conversation to you, asking about your classes and showing genuine interest in your life. It had made your heart flutter, while you enjoyed hearing about him, it meant a lot that he had wanted to know about you too. The night had continued with passionate making out until your tongues were sore, and eventually, you had both drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.

Yet, your bubble was on the verge of exploding. He was officially leaving campus tonight. Determined to prolong your time together, you had skipped classes, rarely venturing out from your room except to fetch food. Clothing had become an optional inconvenience, discarded whenever possible.

You both lay naked on the bed, your head at the foot while Patrick rested at the other end, his legs extended. The room had fallen into a comfortable silence. Between the moans that had ceased and the exhaustion that lingered, words seemed unnecessary. "You've got cute toes." Patrick remarked suddenly, his finger tracing a line along the arch of your foot. "Toes?" You asked, taken aback by the unexpected attention to such a trivial body part. Was Patrick secretly a freak like you? “Yeah, mine are all fucked from the tennis shoes.” He raised his foot to your face, exposing bunions and calluses. As you examined his foot closely, memories of a particular sock hidden under your bed flashed through your mind. A sock you had savored so intensely that it had become even more pungent, forcing you to wash it reluctantly. The desire to experience that tangy taste again overwhelmed you. Fixating on his foot, you seized it and enveloped his big toe with your lips, sucking gently as you gazed into his eyes. As you continued, you pressed your own foot against his crotch, massaging it. Despite the redness and swelling from the intense attention it had received throughout the night, Patrick seemed to overlook any discomfort, lost in desperate moans of pleasure. You switched to his second toe, giving it the attention it deserved. And so on until all of his toes were covered with saliva. "Had worse in my mouth." You chuckled, your foot still working him over. Patrick bit his lower lip, curious. "Like what?" He asked. "Oh, you know, your best friend's cock." You shrugged, causing him to sigh. "No need to be a bitch about it, you sucked him plenty, no?" Was trash-talking his friend off-limits? Wasn’t what he was doing even worse than that? "I thought it was alright until I got a taste of yours." You explained, hoping to lighten the mood.

"I've never felt like this before." You confessed, inching closer to Patrick to meet his gaze. You sensed your words had stirred something within him. "I will never be the same." Cupping his face, you compelled him to look directly into your eyes. "Do you think I can go back to how I was living before you?" You didn't wait for his response, pulling him into a deep kiss. Deep down, you knew his answer wouldn't be what you wanted to hear. Kissing Patrick felt inexplicably right, it was a sensation you doubted anyone else could comprehend. His tongue entwined with yours, sending sparks through your body, his rough lips meeting yours in a perfect union. When you finally pulled away, you both lingered in a silent exchange, words seeming futile. "Let's grab lunch, he's probably waiting for us." Patrick muttered, stepping back and retrieving his clothes from the floor. If you wanted Patrick all for yourself, Art needed to get the fuck out of your lives as soon as possible.

●

"Did you make it home okay last night?" You inquired, your gaze fixed on Art. The glare you shot him betrayed your frustration. You hated him for even existing. "Yeah, I got back early." He replied calmly. The three of you were seated at a table, sharing a meal. You couldn't help but notice how effortlessly Patrick reverted to his usual self, while you struggled not to fixate on him and envision his fingers up your cunt. It infuriated you that he could act so nonchalantly, treating you almost like a stranger. "Really? Then why didn't you text this morning?" The accusatory question slipped out unintentionally. You hadn't bothered checking your phone much that morning, but the absence of any message from Art had surprised you when you finally did. You were itching for a confrontation, and any excuse would do. "Practice. Lost track of time." Art explained, sensing your displeasure. He knew he was in hot water. "I was waiting for your messages." You replied curtly. "Patrick and I had a lot to catch up on." Patrick? Your Patrick? The same guy who was fucking you all night? "Oh really? You were with Patrick?" You squinted at Art. He turned to Patrick, hoping for backup. Patrick nodded. "Yeah, we hung out." He lied. You had always sensed that he would choose his best friend over you, and now you were certain of it. "You're a terrible liar." You accused Art, raising your voice. "And you're no better." You pointed at Patrick, disappointed by his lack of support.

Pushing your barely touched tray away, you stood up. "I was with Tashi, but I didn't want to upset you... I knew you'd get mad." Art confessed finally. "I'm just mad that you're a liar." You sighed. "I talked to her, I think you’re mistaken about us." Art tried to reassure you. "So you don’t only talk to me when you're horny?" You confronted him, eyebrows raised, waiting for an explanation. "I don't do that." He claimed. What a fucking liar.

"Then why do you disappear when it's not about sex?" You demanded. "I haven't forgotten our date two days ago. Just one date, and you couldn't make it until it was too late to go out because you were with another girl. Do you think I'm stupid?"

At that point, you were grasping for reasons to end things with him. You didn't care if he had slept with the entire team on the frat house floor, or even Tashi. What mattered was that he was holding you back from your love story with Patrick. Without waiting for his response, you walked away from the table. You may have been the one labeled a cheating lying whore, but Art was the one left feeling in the wrong. Good.

●

You were hiding in your room, seething with anger at both boys. Patrick, for siding with Art, and Art, for simply breathing. A knock on the door interrupted your fuming. You walked over and opened it to find Patrick standing there. "I wasn't expecting you." You said, stepping aside to let him in. No matter how angry you were, you couldn't leave him standing at the door. You locked it behind him. "I told Art I’d talk to you after your fight." He began. You sighed, already bored with the conversation. "What was that about, anyway?" He asked, looking genuinely confused. He didn’t seem to grasp how irrationally you could act when it came to him. "I'm mad at you too." You confessed, crossing your arms in front of him. "Me? Why? I was just trying to act unsuspicious." He said, raising his hands innocently. "So no matter how sore my ass gets, Art is always going to be your favorite?" You asked, hoping he would reassure you of your importance to him. He didn't answer. "I said I would try to talk to you, but I was thinking of using my tongue in a better way." Sex, again. The only thing that really worked between you two. He wrapped his arms around you, placing a soft kiss against the side of your neck. You tilted your head, letting him nibble on the skin there.

Before you knew it, Patrick was beneath you, his hands on your breasts as you rode his face. His tongue delved deep inside you, expertly fucking you with it while his nose rubbed deliciously against your clit. You could tell by his gasps for air that it was getting harder for him to breathe, but you loved it. You had never had sex as much as you had this weekend, and the muscles in your thighs were terribly sore, your clit on fire, and your walls irritated but you couldn't stop. You didn't know if you would ever see Patrick again, and if you did, who knew if you would become his dirty little secret once more? You rolled your hips over his tongue, your fingers tangled in his hair, slightly tugging on it. No matter how much you focused on his mouth, you just couldn’t relax. Both exhausted and saddened by his impending departure. His beard was also chafing you so bad. You lifted yourself off his face and chose to straddle his hips instead. “Don’t like it?” He asked as you moved away from his mouth. “Love it, I just want to feel you.” You replied, pulling him into a sloppy kiss. His face was covered in your juices, and kissing him felt like eating your own self out. Patrick’s hands found their way to your ass, spreading your cheeks as wide as possible. You started grinding against his crotch, rubbing your swollen clit against his length. Both of you moaned into each other’s mouths. You knew you had to be quick. It would be suspicious for the two of you to spend too much time together. But you didn’t want to rush, you wanted to give him a proper goodbye. After a few more rubs, you slid your hand between your bodies and aligned his length with your entrance. As you sat down on his cock, the pain was sharp, your inner walls could barely handle the friction anymore. You weren’t wet enough. You quickly pulled away and grabbed the lube bottle, spreading some into your palm and coating his length. If your body couldn’t accommodate him naturally, you’d find another way to ensure he could move inside you. Tossing the bottle aside, you sat back onto his length. The slickness made it much easier.

Despite the pain, you were determined to make him come. You wanted to see his face in that moment of release, to feel him fill you up. Ignoring the discomfort, you bounced on him with relentless determination. He started thrusting up to match your pace, and you clung to his chest, riding him with fierce intensity. Nothing about your union was pleasurable anymore, but you continued, driven by a desperate need to connect one last time. You simulated a few moans to keep him engaged. The fact that you were having sex with Patrick Zweig and faking it was such a crazy idea. However, it seemed to work well enough for him to assist you in bouncing faster on his cock. He continued to fuck you passionately. Your thighs were in such pain that you wanted to give up, but you couldn't. You had to be enough for THE Patrick Zweig. Sweat was streaming down your forehead as you continued to rock your hips on top of him.

He was nearly there. His fingernails dug into your skin, and he closed his eyes. When you felt him pulsating inside you with little to no release, you realized that his body was as exhausted as yours. You collapsed on top of him, embracing him as tightly as you could. "I don't want you to leave." You told him, your eyes welling up with tears. "I know." He responded, pulling you into a soft and slow kiss.

“Now make up with him and go be a good girlfriend.” Is that what he wanted you to do? Sure, you would do anything for him.

●

Watching him depart was heart-wrenching, even though you knew he'd return soon, for Art's sake. Standing in the parking lot with Art, waving goodbye as the car pulled away, a knot tightened in your stomach. You wanted to cry, scream, throw a tantrum like a child, but you couldn't afford to. You had to maintain composure in front of Art.

"I'm still sorry about earlier." He said. After your intimate farewell with Patrick, you had called Art to apologize for overreacting. Blaming it on your menstrual cycle, you had claimed you forgot to take your pill yesterday, and Art had paid the price. This excuse also bought you a few days' respite from him coming near your inflamed crotch. Or so you thought.

He enveloped you in a hug from behind, nuzzling your neck. "Did you go for a run again? You smell." He remarked, catching a trace of Patrick's sweat. Despite your shower, it seemed your body was becoming intertwined with Patrick's. "Yeah, I will go take a shower." You replied, meeting his gaze. "Let me come with you, I could use one too." He suggested eagerly. Dread filled you, but if Patrick wanted you to pretend nothing had happened and fuck Art, you'd comply.

In your bedroom, you hurriedly shed your clothes, aiming to get to the shower and scrub yourself clean between your legs before Art joined. "Did you smoke in here?" He asked, making your heart race. Caught red-handed. Despite opening the window and changing the sheets, Patrick's scent lingered. "No, but Patrick was here earlier, trying to convince me not to dump your ass." You deflected, shrugging it off as you stepped into the shower and drew the curtain. Desperate, you lathered soap over your folds, trying to erase any trace of Patrick. It stung horribly. Art joined you in the shower, his hands exploring your body eagerly.

"Art... We shouldn't... My pill." You pleaded, attempting to halt his eager touch on your swollen clit, but he persisted. A gasp and a grimace of pain escaped you, mistakenly taken by him as sounds of pleasure. "I can still make you feel good." He insisted, dropping to his knees and lifting your leg onto his shoulder, burying his face in your crotch. You whimpered as his tongue teased your clit. Why was he so fixated on eating you out? Couldn't he be more like other guys who enjoyed being blown? "What if I'm bleeding?" You tried to dissuade him, but he disregarded your concern. "I don't care.” He replied. Freak. "You're so swollen, I think you might really be ovulating." He commented, his tongue still flicking over your pussy. With a sigh, you closed your eyes, praying for this to end as fast as possible.

Thank goodness, Art proved to be a gentle lover with a smooth chin. It wasn’t exactly pleasurable, but at least it didn’t exacerbate the discomfort you were already feeling. Once again, you summoned your acting skills to feign enjoyment, letting out a fabricated moan as he continued to explore your labia with his mouth. Gripping his wet hair firmly, you emitted another simulated whimper. Art delved his tongue deeper, and you silently hoped any trace of Patrick was long gone. "I'm close..." You murmured, then closed your legs around his head, simulating an orgasm. He released your leg and stood up, wrapping his arms around your neck and kissing you deeply.

For a brief moment, guilt crept in within you for manipulating the boy. However, you quickly reminded yourself that he had only ever been a conduit to Patrick, nothing beyond that.

●

It had been a few days since Patrick had come home. Although he was physically far from you, your relationship had grown stronger. You would talk online for hours, and on lucky nights, you would get to hear his voice when he called you on the phone.

That day, you had spent hours at your computer, waiting for Patrick's AIM icon to turn green. It was already too late for you, you could tell you were madly in love. Your life revolved around Patrick, and you wanted to be available whenever he needed you. You lived to serve him. You had always been a bit excessive when it came to him, but now you were a lost cause.

You: So what’s up with you? Patrick: Thinking about your tight cunt. You: Are you? Patrick: Send pics.

He wanted a picture? Of you? That was concrete proof that you were a significant part of his life. Significant enough for him to want to keep a part of you with him while he was away. You hastily kicked off your sweatpants and hurried to your desk to grab your compact camera. Setting the timer, you bent over and spread your cheeks in front of the lens. Flash. Grabbing the camera, you examined the picture closely. You looked huge. Placing the camera back on the desk, you reset the timer and sucked in your stomach this time, ensuring to spread your labias wide. Another flash. This one looked a bit better. Your crotch looked so much healthier than during his visit. You connected the camera to your laptop and dropped the picture into the conversation.

You: You sent a picture. Patrick: Fuck, I want to be inside you so badly. You: Can I get a picture too? Patrick: Patrick sent a picture.

It exceeded all your expectations. The photos revealed Patrick's lower abdomen, his hand gripping his erect penis tightly, and his large sack prominently displayed. Unfortunately, you couldn’t see his face. Was he biting his lips? Were his eyes closed? Was he looking at your picture while touching himself? It didn’t really matter, your hand was down your panties anyway, touching yourself.

Patrick: I qualified for the Sacramento Capitals. We could see each other then. I could come pick you up tomorrow. You: Really? I would love to.

Ever since Patrick had filled you and made you complete, classes seemed utterly pointless. Skipping a few days and failing them didn't concern you. It was evident you were securing your future as an athlete's wife. However, Art posed a challenge. He expected you to always be there, playing the role of the sweet, devoted girlfriend.

You: What do I tell Art? Patrick: I don’t know, find an excuse. Your family cat’s dying or something like that. You: You know my pussy’s already dying for you.

It only took a second for your cell phone to ring. “Hello?” You answered, a smile on your face. “Am I speaking to the aching pussy?” He teased. "Aching is the word. You fucked me so hard I could barely piss without it burning like hell." You whimpered, prompting a chuckle from Patrick. "I know the feeling. Is it still sore?" It had only just started to calm down after four days, the perfect amount of time to feign a painful period and keep Art's dick as far away from you as possible. "No." You replied. "Then make it sore for me again." He said, catching you off guard. Patrick wanted phone sex? "Grab one of those little toys you have.” He instructed. You opened the drawer and picked out your favorite purple vibrator. "What should I do with it?" You teased, you knew what to do but you wanted to hear him say it. "Is it a vibrator?" He asked, his voice husky. You hummed in confirmation. "Play with your clit.” He commanded. Positioning the toy against your bud, you switched it on. "It's on." You gasped, the vibrator buzzing against your clit. "Are you stroking yourself too?" Your voice was breathless with anticipation. "Like hell, I am." Patrick replied, his voice deep and filled with desire. You imagined him as he appeared in the picture he had sent you earlier, and a moan escaped your lips at his revelation. "Imagine it's my pussy milking you." You whispered, matching the rhythm of the vibrator with the pace of Patrick's heavy breathing. "I'm fucking you so good, you're so tight around me." He groaned, his voice sending shivers down your spine. You closed your eyes, picturing Patrick above you, his body pressed against yours. "Play with your tits, just for me." Patrick urged, his voice thick with arousal. With your free hand, you slid under your shirt, grasping your breast and massaging it, imagining Patrick's hands on you. "My nipples are so hard. Like my clit." You moaned, your arousal building with every word he uttered. "Patrick..." His name escaped your lips like a plea. "I'm so hard too, baby." Patrick murmured, the endearment sending a rush of heat through you. Minutes passed in a haze of pleasure and desire. You felt your pussy clench around the vibrator as it vibrated against your folds, mirroring Patrick's intensity on the other end of the phone. "Patrick!" You groaned, the sound echoing through the room. You heard him whimper on the other side of the line, confirming he was just as affected. "Good girl, I hope you'll be as good tomorrow." Patrick whispered huskily, his voice low and intimate, leaving you breathless and eager for more.

"I miss you so much. I can't wait to see you." You panted, the dildo still vibrating beside you. He had already hung up.

●

Coming up with an excuse had been easier than expected. Art was a family man, so when he heard about your sick aunt's health declining and your mom wanting you to be there, he nearly insisted you leave immediately. You mentioned that your cousin could pick you up tomorrow for the drive back home. It was the best you could come up with, knowing he would have insisted on meeting any other family member.

That night, he had decided to stay over to offer his support. Throughout the night, he had managed to remain appropriate, but now it was morning, and you were both cuddling in bed. His morning wood was pressing against your stomach. "I will miss you so much." He murmured, his hands wandering to your ass, giving it a squeeze. You could feel his desire, his need for you. Your aunt was dying, and he wanted to have sex? What a weirdo. There was no way you were going to let him spoil your body. You needed to be squeaky clean for Patrick. "I will miss you too." You lied, trying to keep your voice steady. His hands became more insistent, sliding into your pajamas, but you were determined not to give in. You pulled his hands out of your pants and shook your head. "I'm not really in the mood... Want me to blow you?"

Fellatio was the easiest way to get him to come. It only took some energetic sucking and a few tight strokes before he would make that weird sound and release himself. Today wasn't any different. After about ten minutes of bobbing your head and moaning as if it were the most appetizing treat, Art exploded in your mouth. Exactly what you didn’t want. You had hoped to trick him into coming into your hand, but he had not warned you beforehand. Now what? You had always swallowed before, you couldn’t just suddenly spit it out. So you swallowed his cum reluctantly, then hid your face in his neck, pulling him into a hug. You felt sick.

You glanced at his watch. Saved by the bell. "Don't you have to go?" He followed your gaze to his wrist and sighed. "My coach is waiting." He placed a soft kiss on your lips and began dressing in the clean clothes he had brought from his room. You watched him, feeling indifferent. "Don't forget to text me once you're there." He reminded you. You nodded. "Have fun at practice." With a wave, he exited the door, leaving you alone.

The moment he left your room, you rushed to the bathroom, kneeling in front of the toilet bowl. You shoved your fingers down your throat, forcing yourself to be sick. You needed to purge any trace of Art from your body before meeting Patrick. You wanted to be pure for him.

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you confronted your reflection. You were about to live the romance you had dreamt of for two full days with the man you loved, yet you had never felt so ugly. Apart from the few precious moments Patrick granted you, you hated your life and yourself and it was showing from the outside. You brushed your teeth hard, trying to scrub away the taste of your boyfriend.

●

With your travel bag slung over your shoulder, you made your way to the drop-off area. It was risky for Patrick to pick you up right outside the campus, but you didn’t care. Sure, Art knew many students, but not many were aware of your relationship with him. You were willing to risk it, you had missed Patrick way too much. Besides, you wouldn't be exactly heartbroken by a breakup.

When you spotted Patrick's car, you hurried toward it, your steps quickening with excitement. You opened the passenger door to find Patrick greeting you with a big smile. You jumped into the car, closed the door behind you, and threw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a deep kiss. Your tongue eagerly met his, tasting cigarettes and energy drinks. You felt like you were finally home, nestled in his embrace. It had been so long that you had almost forgotten how much you loved him. "Hey, handsome." You greeted him, your heart fluttering. "Hey, beautiful." He replied, giving you butterflies. You knew he was just mirroring your words, but you chose to ignore that fact.

Once you were buckled up and had placed your bag on the back seat, Patrick started the engine and drove off campus. The drive was only a couple of hours long, but you were excited to spend time in his company.

He offered you snacks and soda, which you declined. There was no way you wanted to feel bloated and fat in front of Patrick. The radio played some pop songs that Patrick hummed along to, making you smile. You decided to sing along, inviting him to join you. Soon, both of you were singing out loud, as if you were the only two people in the universe.

“I’m so proud of you for winning your spot there.” You suddenly said, reaching for his ear and playing with it. It was the first time you had dared to touch that part of him. Somehow, it felt like one of the most precious parts of his body, maybe because you cherished it so much. “Thank you.” Patrick replied with a smile, his eyes still focused on the road as he held the steering wheel. You continued discussing tennis and university, carefully avoiding mentioning Art.

Remembering that you hadn't texted Art, you pulled out your phone and quickly typed a message.

← [To: Art - 8:13 PM] I’m with my cousin, we’re almost there.

You tried to hide who you were texting, but Patrick noticed. He fell silent. You quickly slipped your phone back into your pocket. “Where are we staying?” You asked, trying to divert his attention from your texting. “Hotel.” He replied curtly. You couldn’t believe that Art had managed to ruin things even from miles away. “What kind of hotel?” You pressed, trying to get him to talk more. “I don’t know, a nice hotel?” He shrugged, no longer smiling. You already missed the sight of his teeth. You turned to him and placed your hand on his crotch, grabbing his dick. “Will you fuck me there?” You asked, squeezing him hard to get a reaction.

He glanced at you, biting his lower lip, and nodded. You pulled your seatbelt aside and leaned over, pulling his cock out of his shorts. “Can’t wait.” You mumbled, holding his length in front of your mouth. You wrapped your lips around the head, sucking on his foreskin. “Don’t.” He whined, leaning back against his seat. “I took the car right after practice and I’ve been on the road all day. I haven't had a chance to shower yet.” You looked up at him. “You think that will make me stop? I want to do it even more now.” You said. You loved it when he was all smelly and musky. You loved your Patrick all nasty. His scent had the power to drive you mad.

“You’re a freak.” He said, a smirk on his lips. You gripped his shaft firmly at the base, your other hand caressing his balls, while your tongue traced every inch of his length. Your mouth was all over him, intent on reminding him of what he had been missing out on. The intensity with which you pleased Art earlier paled in comparison to the energy you now put into drawing passionate moans from Patrick's lips.

Whether it was the distance or the thrill of performing the act in plain sight, Patrick came in no time, filling your mouth with his warm release. As you withdrew and tucked his member back into his shorts, his cum lingered on your tongue, a taste you adored. You yearned to savor him endlessly, wanting to hold onto him forever. Eventually, you swallowed, feeling his warmth settle in your stomach. It was probably the best spot to store it after your pussy and your ass.

When the car stopped at a red light, he grabbed your neck and pulled you into a sloppy kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as if searching for something. You moaned softly, taken aback by his boldness, enjoying every moment of his embrace. The green light allowed you to catch your breath. “How come you never try to spit it back to me?” He asked, glancing at you. How could you explain to him that you wanted to consume all of him, not letting a single drop go to waste? That you needed to be filled by him, that it wasn’t just a want but a need? That his cum belonged to you alone? That it wasn’t even his anymore?

“You’re too tasty.” You mumbled, looking out the window.

●

“This place is crazy.” You had not visited a lot of hotels but this one had to be one of the high end. “Courtesy of daddy.” You didn’t know much about Patrick’s parents except that they were extremely wealthy. You imagined Patrick’s dad to look similar to him but with salt and pepper hairs and lines on his face. In that moment, you wished to still be around in the future to witness Patrick grow old and gray. You pulled him into a tight embrace and grabbed his butt. “Could I get the discourtesy of daddy then?”

“I have to sort my bag before the match and then I’m all yours, babe.” He said, placing a soft peck on your lips before pulling away. He started rearranging his rackets and replacing the grip tape on one of them. You watched him work, tempted to tell him what you had done with his rackets in the past when you were desperate for his touch. But some things were better left secret for now. You could however reveal how seeing him with a racket was a true turn on.

"You know, I used to fantasize about your backhand." You confessed as you watched him inspect his racket intently. "My backhand?" He responded, taken aback by the unexpected revelation. "Yes." You continued, unabashed. "I wanted you to swing that racket at me with all your strength, just like you do with the ball." By now, he understood how violence was a turn on for you, but he had never ventured into anything that could potentially harm you. Did he have it in him to be the rough motherfucker you wanted him to be? "I wouldn't even care if it put me in a wheelchair or killed me." You added boldly. "I would gladly die that way."

He stared at you with a mixture of disbelief and intrigue, as if you had proposed the most audacious plan. Yet, beneath his initial reaction, you sensed he was intrigued by the notion. When he rose from his seat and took his racket, sitting at the edge of the bed, you knew exactly what was about to happen. He patted his lap invitingly. "Come here." He said softly. You obediently stretched out across his lap, presenting your butt to him. With a gentle touch, he lifted your skirt and slid your panties down, exposing your bare skin. The first smack of the racket against your flesh made you jump slightly. You whined like one of those porn girls but you couldn’t help it. "Hard, you said?" He asked, his voice low and teasing. You nodded, biting your lower lip, eyes closed in anticipation. He lifted his racket high above his head, poised as if preparing to serve, and then struck you with all his might. A scream escaped your lips, tears welling in your eyes from the undeniable pain. The impact reverberated through your body, the sensation lingering deep within your core. The pain was intense, but a part of you loved it. "Is this everything you dreamed of and more?" He asked, his voice tinged with amusement. You couldn't respond, the pain rendering you speechless. Instead, you nodded, burying your face in the sheets of the bed.

"I could play tic-tac-toe on your ass." He remarked playfully, setting aside the racket. Leaning in, he placed gentle kisses on the red marks, his touch tender against the lingering sting.

Things had escalated quickly. Both naked, Patrick's head was now nestled between your legs, lavishing attention on your neglected pussy. He sucked on your clit thoroughly, as if his life depended on it. Your hands tugged at his ears, now bright red and matching the color of your swollen bud. A wave of pleasure surged through you, and you moaned his name repeatedly, like a mantra.

His tongue had soon been replaced by his cock, stretching your entrance as he pounded into you with relentless force. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your hands tangled in his hair, and you struggled to keep up with his pace. The intensity of his thrusts reminded you of the first time Patrick had fucked you, but this time, his tongue was all over your mouth, filling it with his spit. You wondered if this was how he always acted when desperate for cunt. The sensation was overwhelming. You could feel yourself leaving your body, every muscle tensing up as you clenched hard around his dick. The orgasm surged through you, and you moaned into his mouth, your cries muffled by his eager kiss. Your body trembled, riding out the waves of pleasure as he continued to thrust, his own moans mixing with yours in a symphony of ecstasy.

"I'm about to come…" He gasped, swiftly withdrawing. He knelt over you, stroking himself as he hovered above. His gaze locked onto your breasts as he exploded all over your chest. Though you had fantasized about being covered in his semen countless times, you couldn't help but feel disappointed that all that cum was going to waste.

“This is so hot. Can I take a picture?” He queried, grabbing his phone on the bedside table. “You don’t need to ask, I would do anything for you.” You confessed, posing for the picture, eyes staring into the lens and legs parted.

●

That morning, you woke up nestled in Patrick's warm embrace. Despite the lingering soreness from the night before, you felt a rare sense of complete happiness. Patrick slept soundly beside you, his arms wrapped around you. With the match scheduled for the afternoon, you knew you had time to enjoy the quiet moment, watching his peaceful expression. It still amazed you that such a handsome man belonged to you, in a complex, undefined way, but still belonged to YOU. You cherished every part of him. The unruly eyebrows, the envy-inducing lashes, the delicate freckles on his prominent nose, his full lower lip, and the stubble that adorned his square chin. You gazed at him, knowing deep inside that you could never love anyone more. You remained there, lost in admiration for over half an hour until he stirred awake. As he opened his eyes, you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss on his lips, finding charm even in his morning breath.

You sat upright in bed, the sheets draped over your naked body, feeling discomfort radiate from your sore ass. Every movement seemed to intensify the pain, so you opted to recline back against the pillows.

"What time is it?" He asked, rubbing his eyes sleepily. Glancing at the clock, you replied. "10:53 AM." His yawn was contagious, even though you had been awake for a while already. "Let's get dressed and go grab lunch." He suggested, rolling off the bed to head for the shower. You briefly considered joining him but decided to use the time to text Art, reassuring him that everything was going smoothly. When Patrick emerged from the shower, towel wrapped around his hips, you couldn't help but admire him with a sense of awe. Truly, you felt like the luckiest girl alive. "Your turn." He said, nodding toward the bathroom as he moved past you.

You felt like you had reached a new step of intimacy when Patrick casually entered the bathroom to use the toilet as you brushed your teeth a short while later. He nonchalantly pulled out his dick and pissed in front of you. It seemed odd to think so, but you found it insanely hot. Not the piss part, although if Patrick had that kind of fantasies, you wouldn’t mind, but his ease around you, making you feel like you were already his wife.

An hour later, both of you were showered, dressed, and on your way to find something to eat.

Even a trip to a burger joint with Patrick felt like a date, or at least you hoped it was. Opting for water, you mentioned feeling nauseous to justify your choice. There didn't seem to be anything remotely healthy on the menu. Meanwhile, Patrick ordered a full meal: burger, fries, and coke.

Watching him devour his food with such happiness filled you with an inexplicable sense of contentment. You couldn't suppress the smile that spread across your face as he indulged in his meal, sauce smearing his chin and nose. He looked like a child. You couldn't help but picture your future children being just as messy as he was. Perplexed by your hungry gaze, he extended a fry towards you.

"I haven't had fries in ages." You remarked as Patrick offered you one. You hesitated briefly, aware of the calorie count in just one fry. More than five. You had checked the info every single time you had craved some. The grease made you think twice, but you took a bite to please Patrick. "Don't they serve these almost every day at the cafeteria?" He asked, his mouth full. "I've been on a diet." You confessed, hoping for some praise on your efforts. Art had mentioned Patrick noticed the changes in your body. Instead, he frowned, scanning you from head to toe. "I don't think you need to diet. You're perfect as you are." Perfect? You weren’t ‘just fine’, you were perfect. The compliment shook you. "Even before? I was so chubby." You said, surprised. He fed you another fry. "I never thought you were chubby." He admitted. You knew he hadn't paid much attention to you in the past, but how had he missed that? "You hardly noticed me before. But admit it, you wouldn't have fucked me earlier this year." You said, rejecting the last fry offered. "You know why I wasn’t eyeing you before." Tashi. Or was it because of Art? "But I always thought you were hot." Did he? It was hard to believe him given his previous lack of interest. "You were always Art's hot girlfriend in my mind. Well, you are Art's hot girlfriend." He corrected himself. Why did he have to bring Art into this? You dreaded whenever his name was mentioned in the conversation, knowing it could spoil the moment. Hoping to sidestep any tension, you reached out and placed your hand on his thigh, then slid it up to his crotch, giving a gentle squeeze.

"You're insatiable, aren't you?" You shook your head playfully and kept teasing him through his shorts while sipping your water innocently. "I have to save my energy for the match." He said, removing your hand. “I would usually allow a quickie but I know that won’t be enough for the little slut that you are, so keep your hands to yourself.” He whispered into your ear. You pouted like a child at his remark. You knew the sudden name-calling, as hot as it was, was due to the mention of Art. You were starting to know Patrick by heart. He suddenly felt dirty for what he was doing to his friend so he needed to degrade you to make himself feel superior. You were the whore who seduced him. He didn’t mean to fall for it. You didn’t mind that he blamed you. What bothered you was the lack of physical touch.

If Patrick wasn't going to give you what you desired, you were determined to make his life miserable until he did.

After lunch, you chose to sunbathe on the balcony of the room. You had discarded your top to achieve an even tan. "Everyone can see you, you know." Patrick commented as he settled at the foot of your lounge chair. You shrugged. Why did he care about your breasts if they weren't going to be in his mouth? He cupped one of your tits, squeezing it. "No, save your energy for the match." You mocked, echoing his earlier remarks. "Such a whore." He pinched your nipple in reprimand for your attitude, then turned and walked back into the room.

In the hours leading up to the match, you busied yourself by dropping random objects and bending to pick them up in front of him, occasionally ‘accidentally’ brushing against his dick. You could see the frustration building in his eyes. He was fed up with you.

The drive to the court was brief, yet you couldn't resist teasing him more by slowly pulling up your skirt at every turn. You felt his gaze on your legs and chest, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Your outfit wasn't drastically different from usual, but going commando added an element of novelty, showcasing your perky nipples and tight cunt to him. He clearly didn't fully comprehend who he was dealing with.

Once he parked the car, you hopped out and helped carry his tennis equipment. If fucking you was too much for him, then carrying his rackets should be, too. You had spent the entire morning treating him like he was incapable of anything by himself. You opened doors for him, wiped the corners of his mouth, assisted with his dressing, and even offered to wipe him when he excused himself to the bathroom, always using the excuse of conserving his energy. It was obvious he was amused by the situation and also enjoyed being treated like a princess.

Standing in front of the building, he took his bag back from you. “I don’t fuck losers, so you better win.” You warned him. In truth, you didn't care about the score, but you knew he needed the motivation. You were convinced his recent losses were due to a lack of support. He needed someone to cheer for him. “I’m just saying this for you." You teased, giving his ass a playful slap. "The guy you’re playing against is kinda cute. He will do." You shrugged and climbed up the bleachers to find your spot in the audience. As you settled in, you watched Patrick disappear into the building, a smile lingering on his face.

●

The first set had been a display of Patrick's skills, his forehand blistering the lines and his serves thundering past his opponent's defenses. Cheers from the crowd echoed around the stadium, encouragement punctuated by the occasional groan of dismay from his rival. You applauded enthusiastically. Perhaps you were biased, blinded by love, but Patrick's talent on the court was undeniable. You couldn't fathom why he hadn't already won a Grand Slam.

But as the second set unfolded, you knew why. The match took a different turn. Patrick's focus wavered, and with it, his precision. Unforced errors crept into his game, and his opponent, seizing the opportunity, began to make his way back point by point. The scoreboard tilted against him, the second set slipping away 6-4.

"Zweig, come on! I know you've got more in you than that!" You shouted at him. He glanced up at you, a smirk playing on his lips. Meeting your gaze, Patrick felt a surge of determination. This match was far from decided.

Entering the decisive third set, Patrick knew he had to regain control. The tension was high as the score grew tighter with each point. Sweat covered Patrick's forehead, his muscles tense. With every stroke, he fought to assert his dominance once more, refusing to let doubt cloud his mind.

At 5-5, the match hung in the balance. Patrick served with newfound determination, his first serves finding their mark with accuracy. He broke his opponent's serve with an impressive passing shot, seizing the opportunity with a groan of victory.

Serving for the match at 6-5, Patrick felt a surge of adrenaline. His serve was met with a return, but he anticipated it perfectly, sprinting to the net to deliver a crisp strike that left his opponent stranded. Match point.

As he walked to the baseline, he caught your eye in the stands. You subtly uncrossed your legs and parted them, revealing your lack of panties to him. You didn’t care that all the court could see your pussy right now, you wanted Patrick to fully admire his prize. You could sense his distraction at the sight of you, but he swiftly refocused himself. Winning was crucial if he wanted to claim you. The final serve was met with a powerful return, but Patrick was ready. He moved forward, anticipation guiding his racket as he unleashed a cross-court winner.

The stadium erupted in an echo of applause and cheers. Patrick dropped his racket, arms raised in triumph. He had won, not just the match, but the game you both played. Amidst the applause, he searched for your beaming face in the crowd, acknowledging the essential role you had played in his victory. He wiped his face with his towel and shook his opponent’s hand. You waited until the court's audience had dispersed and the cameras were no longer rolling before you joined your man.

Leaping into Patrick's arms, you wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. He instinctively gripped your thighs for support, his body glistening with sweat, looking more attractive than ever before. "Congratulations!" You exclaimed, drawing him into a passionate kiss. His lips tasted salty from the sweat covering his face. "Follow me." He murmured against your lips as he carried you inside the building. If he thought he could easily shake you off now, he had another thing coming.

●

Dropping you to your feet, Patrick led you to the locker rooms, which were empty for now. He pushed you into a cubicle and locked the door behind you. The scent of the room brought back memories of the frat house’s bathroom. "You've been teasing me all day. Now, you're going to pay for it." He warned. Pay for it? How? You grinned at him, sticking your tongue out playfully. He bit down on it gently, pulling you into a deep kiss, his hands roaming over your ass, groping you possessively. “Aren’t you tired after focusing so much on your tennis?” You teased, sliding your hands down his damp shorts to grasp his ass as firmly as he was gripping yours. “You’re such a cunt.” He grabbed your hands, removing them from his shorts as he flipped you over and shoved you against the way. Your nipples hardened against the cold wall. He pulled out his hard cock and plunged himself into you without any foreplay. You gasped at the sudden penetration, feigning dismay even as you loved every second of it. “People will hear us..” You whimpered as he started thrusting into you “Let them hear, I don’t care.” He retorted sharply, thrusting into you as your moans filled the room. You ensured your cries were loud enough to trick him into giving you deeper thrusts. Gripping your neck, he kept you facing the wall as you arched your back, inviting his forceful entry. Patrick exploded inside you without warning, then withdrew, leaving you frustrated. Noises beyond the door indicated you were no longer alone.

"I should punish you like that and not let you cum." He whispered in your ear, eliciting a whimper. "Please…" You pleaded, spreading yourself for him. "I will be good, I promise." You reached for his cock, but he slapped your hand away and re-entered you slowly, inch by inch. This was how he was making you pay for it : agonizingly slow thrusts that left you desperate. Moaning louder, you urged him to quicken his pace.

Laughter and whistles drifted through the walls, signaling that your little fun was no secret to others. Everyone knew someone was being fucked in there.

Finally giving in, Patrick began to ram vigorously, the wet sounds of his powerful thrusts reverberating through the room as you struggled to stifle your cries. "Patrick!" You moaned, your voice muffled by the wall you were almost kissing. Your orgasm washed over you, your legs shaking as you silently thanked the wall for supporting you. He slowly pulled out and flipped you around, capturing your lips in a sloppy kiss.

“Let’s go back to the hotel.” You giggled, pulling down your skirt. You could feel his cum running down your thighs, but you didn't care if anyone noticed. You wanted to parade your used-up cunt like a trophy. Patrick’s second trophy of the afternoon. Stepping out of the cubicle had been a challenge. As you stepped out, all the players turned to look at you, their faces adorned with wide grins. They knew what had happened in there, and it truly felt like a walk of shame. However, with Patrick standing beside you, holding your hand proudly, you felt like you could face anything.

●

Both of you had just emerged from the shower, wrapped in the hotel's luxurious bathrobes. Patrick sat on the bed while you positioned yourself behind him, legs on either side, tenderly brushing his hair. "I wish it could always be like this." You murmured, as Patrick closed his eyes in bliss. "What do you mean?" He asked. You dropped the hairbrush onto the bed and began to massage his scalp. "You and me." You replied. He sighed, already knowing where this was headed. This wasn’t the first time you had expressed your desire to be with him exclusively. A request he would simply ignore, no matter how much you would make him come to try to convince him. "I can't stand seeing their faces anymore. No one understands me quite like you."

“I don’t get you. You’re just totally freaky and I accepted it.” He said, unsure if his comment would sting. But it didn’t, it was true, and you both knew it. “Please, let me be yours.” You whispered in his ear, your breath warm against his skin. Your heart pounded as you waited for his response, hoping that this time, things might be different. Patrick leaned back into you, his body relaxing further under your touch. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words and possibilities. “I won’t be demanding. I will let you do anything you want to me. I will let you use me and toss me around. And when you’re done with me, I will let you fuck every pretty thing you see and not be jealous, I promise.”

Your pleas elicited a burst of laughter from him before he fell silent, lost in his thoughts. "We can’t." He finally admitted, his voice barely audible. "I’d be the worst friend in the world."

Your hands paused in their gentle massage, and you leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear. "Fuck Art.. Claim me. I promise to be good." You pleaded softly, your voice a mix of desperation and longing. You eagerly began to nibble on his earlobe, craving his closeness.

Patrick turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours. "He’s my best friend and I already ruined things between us. This would destroy him." He replied, a sad smile tugging at his lips.

You understood that this wouldn't shatter Art. He didn't invest enough in you for it to cause any real pain. However, Patrick's betrayal would certainly sting. Yet, it would serve as the ideal pretext for Art to sever ties with Patrick, freeing himself from a friendship that held him back from Tashi.

"Plus, you probably only find this so endearing because you like chaos. You’re drawn to the secret rendez-vous, the homewrecking and the desperate fucking. I told you, you’re fucked in the head."

You sighed, resting your forehead against the back of his head. And here he was again with the agression. "You know that’s not true. I have wanted you ever since the moment I laid eyes on you. Remember the US Open Junior championship? Recall the girl waiting for Art outside the locker rooms? Did you truly believe I was waiting for Art? I simply couldn't compete with Tashi. But I promise you, I can be better than her."

He didn't respond immediately, but his hand reached up to cover yours, squeezing gently. Though he didn't speak, his subtle gesture conveyed a clear message, urging you to remain silent.

You slid off the bed and positioned yourself in front of him, loosening the belt of your bathrobe until it fell away, leaving you standing bare before him.

"Please. Tashi can’t make you come like I do.” You whispered, feeling the heat of his gaze tracing every curve of your body. You knelt before him once more, this time in a physical plea. If he sought devotion, you were prepared to demonstrate desperation.

"What about Art?" You loosened his robe and pressed your face against his crotch, nuzzling between his legs. “He can’t fuck you like I do.” You chuckled, savoring the musky scent from his balls as if it were the strongest drug. Though you had never indulged in any substances, Patrick was undeniably more addictive than anything else in the world. “I can’t do that to him…” He gazed down at you as though he were weighing the prospect of claiming you for good, even though you had been his since you were fourteen. You sensed he was on the brink of surrender. “He chose Tashi over you months ago.” You sensed his muscles tighten beneath your fingertips.

“Shut the fuck up.” His words were sharp, and so was his touch. He roughly shoved you aside, causing you to fall back onto your butt. Tears welled up in your eyes as you gazed up at him, searching for a hint of the connection you thought you shared. But it was clear : Art mattered more to him than you ever could.

"Please" You whispered, voice trembling with a mix of heartbreak and anger.

Patrick's eyes were cold, devoid of the passion that burned between you a couple of hours ago. "You’re the one who fucked up, he didn’t do anything. They didn’t do anything." He replied, his tone harsh and unyielding. Of course, you were the only one to blame. "It started as a game, but now... I can't do this."

“Now what?” The weight of his silence crushed you, the realization that this relationship had no future was cutting deeper than any physical pain.

“Tell me you don’t like me and I will leave you alone...” Without saying anything, he looked at you with conflicted eyes, then turned away abruptly, leaving you with a heavy silence that spoke volumes.

●

Patrick hadn’t uttered a single word at the hotel after that. The only time he spoke was to urge you to get dressed, as it was time to return to campus. The car ride back to the university was painfully silent, with only the radio and your muffled sobs breaking the quiet.

Once close to the campus, he pulled the car over to the side of the road, turning off the engine. The sudden silence was deafening. He turned to face you, his eyes filled with a mixture of longing and pain. The silence stretched on, and you could feel the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, you leaned over and kissed him. For a moment, he kissed you back with a desperate intensity that made your heart ache. But then he pulled away, breathless and shaken.

"I do care about you. More than I ever thought I would.” He whispered so quietly you had to strain to hear him. In that moment, it felt like there were only the two of you in the world. Those were the words you had been dying to hear, and it felt like he was only willing to admit them out loud once. Patrick Zweig cared about you. Maybe not as much as you cared about him, but it was a start. You were confident you could find a way to make him love you.

With a smile, you reached over to his crotch and slid your hand down his shorts, massaging him. That was the thing with Patrick, you didn’t know how to show your affection in any other way than through your body. Everything else felt...forbidden. Was it because you were in a relationship? Not exactly. Was it because you had idolized this man for so long that he had become some kind of god to you? Most likely. Patrick seemed unreal to you, and feeling his body was the only way to make sure he was real. He allowed himself to get lost in your touch for a moment, moaning at the sensation before abruptly stopping you. “Fuck, you’re truly mad.” He removed your hand from down his pants. “We can’t. Let’s drive you back.”

You had imagined countless ways to convince him to keep you. You could remain his side piece for the rest of your life, offering him your body before he went home to his wife and kids. Yet, you were certain he would find a way to reject you anyway. Deep down, you knew it all came down to his loyalty to Art, not your relationship with him. Now, you were parked in front of the campus.

“I love you.” You had wanted to tell him that ever since you first noticed him at fourteen. Saying it felt like the most natural thing in the world, it felt as natural as breathing. You nibbled on your lower lip, looking at him with hopeful eyes. You didn’t expect him to reciprocate because you knew he couldn’t. No, he wouldn’t. No one in the world could love as fiercely as you loved him. But you needed him to acknowledge it. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if absorbing your words. Taking a deep breath, he nodded in response to your confession. Of course, he already knew.

He unlocked the door, signaling for you to leave. Reluctantly, you opened the car door and stepped out. Patrick took a deep breath, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. "Take care of Art." Not a word for you.

"I will." You lied, your voice barely audible. You did not give two fucks about that asshole. You despised him and hated your relationship with him. Just thinking about him made you feel nauseous.

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving behind the shattered remnants of a relationship that was never meant to be. For a fleeting moment, you considered stepping in front of the car and ending it all, hoping he might finally take you seriously and feel enough pity to let you stay even just an afterthought in his mind. But when you looked back, he was already far gone.

●

Not knowing what to do now that your life had been shattered, you wandered to Art’s dorm, hoping to find some comfort. You knocked on his door with urgency until he finally opened it. “Fuck, are you okay?” He asked, noticing your tear-streaked face and runny nose. “No…” You admitted, unable to hide the heartbreak you were experiencing. “Is she okay?” Who? Oh, right, your aunt. You remembered the lie you had concocted to slip away with Patrick. “She’s really not doing well. I think she’s going to die.” You replied, knowing deep down you were really talking about yourself.

Wrapped in Art’s bed, cocooned by the blanket, your face nestled against his neck while his hands traced gentle patterns on your back. Using him to dull the lack of Patrick had become a habit over the months, but now it felt unsettling, almost like betraying him. “I can’t keep lying to you. There’s someone else. Or there was.” You murmured against his skin, sensing his body tense beneath yours. “I already know.” He confessed. He knew? Why would he persist in perpetuating this farce of a relationship? The only rationale behind this seemed to be that the relationship held some benefit for him. Was it the intimacy? The status it afforded in Tashi’s eyes? “How did you find out?” You asked, seeking clarity on the matter.

“First of all, you never feel like doing it anymore, and you’re the horniest person I know.” He said. You barely had enough energy to fuck him, plus you couldn’t scrub yourself hard enough to remove the dirty feeling. “You have marks that I know aren’t just accid—” He poked at the bruise on your thigh, an obvious bite mark.

“And you don’t care?” You cut him off. You withdrew slightly to study his eyes, but he remained silent, offering no response. “God, you really don’t care.” You slightly raised your voice at him. You disentangled yourself from his embrace and slid out of the bed. Standing before him, hands firmly planted on your hips, you confronted him directly. “I truly wonder what I am to you. Don’t you think I went and fucked someone else because I just got tired of my boyfriend ignoring me to spend so much time with his ‘friend’ Tashi…?” You emphasized the word 'friend'. It was wrong, shifting the blame for your infidelity onto him. But you couldn't help it. You couldn't bear to be the villain in this story. Patrick was your soulmate, and Art was just there in the meantime.

“You know she needs us." Art attempted to explain, perched on the edge of his bed, his gaze fixed on you. "Us? She doesn’t need me, believe me." You reassured him. Tashi couldn't care less about you, and now that she was out of Patrick's life, you felt no obligation to keep her in yours. "Maybe because you're playing besties with her ex." He said, the way he phrased it sparking doubt about what he truly knew. Was he aware of your secret relationship with Patrick?

"Maybe someone needs to. You barely treat him like he's your best friend. And for what? Because he satisfies your little girlfriend in ways you never could?" You intended to talk about Tashi, but the parallels with your own situation felt uncomfortably apt. From the way Art glared at you, it was clear he understood the message perfectly. "You're a coward, Art. If you made a move, you could have her. But you prefer your comfort. You like having me around to keep your dick wet, but you don't love me. I'm just convenient." His eyes were red, though he wasn't shedding tears. You couldn't discern if he was sad or simply enraged. That was the perpetual challenge with Art : his reluctance to communicate. Even now, he maintained a stubborn silence. "Why her, by the way? Is it because she chose Patrick and you can't get over it? Just fuck her already. Get it out of your system. Or maybe you already have? Did she get down on her fucked-up knee and worship your talent?" You regretted mentioning Tashi's knee, but it was at the heart of the matter. The catalyst for everything.

“I fucked someone else and you won’t even react. Call me a whore, insult me, be disgusted by me. I don’t care, just say something. Grow some balls and end things with me.” You practically begged him. Patrick had no issue calling you all the names in the world. Why couldn't Art do the same?

"Let's end it." He finally muttered. You weren't sure if that was truly what he wanted, but it was definitely what you desired, and the ever-so-accommodating Art might have just said it to please you.

“Finally.” You clapped at him, more mocking than applauding his courage. "Thanks for everything." Grabbing your shoes, you left his room without looking back. Walking barefoot down the dorm hallway, a lump formed in your throat and tears streamed down your cheeks. You were crying. Who would have thought Art fucking Donaldson would ever make you cry?

You wouldn’t miss Art, but you couldn’t believe that you had let the opportunity to be with the man of your dreams slip away because of a relationship that had ended with a snap of a finger. Art had shattered your life's blueprint, the plans you had crafted since adolescence.

●

You were finally free, and you had to tell Patrick right away. At last, you could be together with the man you were meant to be with. Practically sprinting through the corridor, you hoped to reach your room before his bedtime. Grabbing your laptop, you opened AIM, hoping to see a message from him. Thank goodness he was online, but there was nothing from him. You clicked on his username and opened your chat box, scrolling through the dozens of nude pictures you had sent him.

You: I just broke up with him. Can I see you, please? Patrick: You truly love making my life insanely complicated.

You watched the "typing" indicator flash, but despite your endless waiting, nothing ever appeared on the screen. He was now offline. In a final desperate attempt, you sent him a ‘Please,’ only to be met with an automated response:

zweigpat can't receive IMs right now. Status is unavailable or offline.

●

As you lay in bed, tears staining your cheeks, you couldn't shake the feeling of rejection that hung heavy in the air. The weight of Patrick's silence felt suffocating, leaving you to wonder if he had blocked you out of his life completely.

Hours passed, the room growing darker as evening fell. Your stomach rumbled with hunger, yet you felt emotionally drained, as if life had been sucked out of you. A knock on the door shattered the silence, momentarily pulling you out of your misery. Could it be Art offering explanations? He had to be the last person you wished to see at this moment. Was it Tashi coming for a fight? She would destroy you. You had to admit, dying in her hands sounded quite sweet at the moment.

You hesitated before making your way to the door, the anticipation gnawing at your insides. With a shaky hand, you turned the doorknob, half expecting to see Art standing there with a remorseful expression. Instead, you were met with the sight of Patrick, his face etched with a mixture of uncertainty and longing. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in his presence, your mind struggling to process the sudden turn of events.

Before you could say anything, Patrick had closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours in a desperate, hungry kiss. It felt surreal, almost too good to be true. There he was, standing before you. Patrick Zweig. And he was yours.

He yearned for you with an intensity you had never seen before. His desperation for your touch, his craving for your lips and body, his longing for your love. All of it consumed him completely, making him a shell of himself. The roles were now reversed, and Patrick Zweig, once unattainable, now laid vulnerable at your feet. The power had shifted to your side. The longing in his eyes, the very thing you had waited for since you were fourteen, now seemed pitiful. He truly looked pathetic, and a twinge of revulsion began to creep into your thoughts. Patrick Zweig was yours and it felt disgusting.

♠♣♥♦

Tagging : @starrgurl46 @egcdeath @izzywags478 @serenadingtigers @justzluv

n/a : Here is part 2 of Silent Devotion. I'm not sure if this calls for another sequel. Is this turning into a series? I don't know, to be fair. I like writing about obssessive!reader (even though, she's not as remotely freaky as she was in part one) but it's always A LOT. I lose sleep over this. I also love that we got to see more of Patrick in this. Hope you liked it! (The amount of researches I had to do about facebook in 2006 and AIM.... I don't want to talk about it.)

See you next time!

#challengers 🎾#challengers fanfic #challengers fanfiction #challengers fic #challengers #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #tashi duncan #challengers smut

579 notes · View notes