#now that that's off my chest (and sorry if i'm being a bit of a debbie downer) i am!! gonna try and work on some plot asks!!

[peachesofteal]

"This can't be happening."

"C'mere." He tries to drag you into his arms, but you dodge him.

"No. I can't... I don't want to be touched right now." Your hands are shaking, prickle of tears starting to burn at the back of your eyes. How can this be happening? "Oh my god, my family. They live-"

"They'll be alright."

"No!" You shriek. He's too nonchalant, unaffected. He doesn't understand. "Look at that red spot. That's where they live, right there. In a state that doesn't view most of them as human beings. The only one who would qualify in their eyes is my father, because he's a man. I left them all behind, in a country that hates them." Your stomach flips. "We're the minority. My sister just had a daughter-" your voice dies as you grapple with the reality. The country you used to call home, the one you watched elect a black man to the presidency not once, but twice, is nowhere to be found. It's dead. Fallen to extremism like so many others.

"Shhh, hey-"

"How could they do this? How could the majority of the country choose this? I don't understand. I mean, I do. The answer is plain as day but fuck..." You go to him now, burying your face in his chest and taking a deep breath. It helps. Here, you're safe, at least in this moment. "I'm sorry, I'm freaking out."

"It's okay," he murmurs, kissing your forehead, "it's normal. You're grieving where you've come from, you're worried and scared for your loved ones. That's okay."

"He's going to start so many wars," you moan, and he chuckles, sweeping his palm over the back of your head and holding you tighter.

"Don't worry about that so much, it's not that simple... and there are a lot of things that happen behind the scenes. Trust me." He holds you tighter, and another wave of despair crests.

"It's never going to end. The states are always going to be lost to this... this bigotry, this extremism. I thought there was change happening but... it's so deeply ingrained... there's no hope for them."

"You have to believe there is, love. Hope is the most powerful thing on this planet. It changes the course of the future all the time. Trust me, I've seen it."

"I just..." You trail off, lump forming in your throat. He rubs your back, squeezing your shoulders before taking a half step back to tilt your face up to his.

"Listen to me sweetheart," he cups your face, thumbs moving back and forth in a soothing rhythm, "these things happen. Governments ebb and flow. In two years, there will be another election, right? For state and local representatives?" You sniffle and nod. "There will be a massive overcorrection. The scales will tip." It relieves the ache in your chest, a little bit, to know that there will at least be another chance to right the ship, somewhat. "Want us to assassinate him for you?" He murmurs, kissing your temple, and you give him a watery smile.

"I think that's asking a little much." He shrugs.

"Wouldn't be the worst thing we've done."

[lemoniiiiiii]

need a colin zabel fic where you are his annoying co worker yapping about your day while sitting on his desk (and on his files) swinging your feet and accidentally brushing your foot against his inner thigh and it makes things very much awkward and definitely brings up many feelings to the surface🩷

one on one

(colin zabel x reader) in where bothering your favorite co-worker results in something more than you expected... content: fluff, colin being a tired cutie a/n: this request was sooooo cute, thank you for sending it in! i love writing this man he's the sweetest ever.

--

"hey, you’re back!" you say, standing from your desk as colin walks past. without a second thought, you fall into step beside him, weaving through the bustling precinct as the noise of ringing phones and low chatter surrounds you.

"hey, y/l/n," he murmurs, glancing at you briefly before his eyes go back to the case file in his hand.

"a bunch of us are heading to the bar tonight," you say, nudging him lightly. "you in?"

he sighs, his shoulders slumping just a little. "uh… i don’t think i can—"

"colin, c'mon." you raise an eyebrow, keeping your tone light but insistent.

"i’m alright, really."

"seriously," you say, quickening your pace to get ahead of him, backing into his office until you feel the hard edge of his desk and hop up onto it. "that case can wait. you need a break, or you’re gonna burn out and be no use to anyone."

he stops short, eyes narrowing a bit, and lifts an eyebrow. "you’re sitting on my files."

"i… realize that now," you say with a small, sheepish smile. "but this works in my favor. i haven’t seen you all day. can we just talk for a minute?"

knowing you won’t take no for an answer, colin sighs, placing the file in his hand beside you, signaling that you have his attention. you launch into your day—going over the calls you took, the quirky regulars, and the case you were working on. but after a while, you notice colin’s mind has drifted; he’s listening, but his focus is… somewhere else, his arms crossed, brow furrowed.

"earth to zabel—hello?" you nudge his leg playfully, and just then he snaps out of it, seeming to have had some realization. he reaches for his files, but you shift to block his path, mirroring his movements.

"colin."

he stops, and without thinking, you place a hand on his chest to balance yourself on the desk's edge. the warmth and firmness catch you off guard, and when his gaze drops to your hand, then meets yours, heat rises to your cheeks. he’s waiting for you to say something, but all you can think about is… well, him.

"someone’s been working out…" you mumble, barely realizing the words have slipped out.

colin blinks, his own face turning red. "um, what?"

oh god, did you really just say that out loud?

"nothing—sorry." you stammer, quickly removing your hand.

he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "well, i'm glad someone noticed. didn’t think it was showing yet."

"that makes it sound like you're pregnant"

"i- you know what i mean"

"anyways… uh—are you coming tonight?" you ask, watching as colin moves around to the other side of his desk, meticulously organizing a pile of files. he seems almost too focused on straightening the edges and aligning them, as if using the task to avoid your question.

finally, he looks up, giving you apologetic smile. "rain check?"

you groan in exaggerated disappointment, crossing your arms. "seriously?"

"hey—tell you what." he points at you with a small grin, as if making an official deal. "i'll take you to that, er, new place downtown you’ve been wantin' to try."

you blink, surprised. that restaurant was fancier than you’d expected him to suggest. "that’s… expensive," and intimate, you think, though you keep that part to yourself.

colin shrugs, nonchalant. "it's no problem," he says, then quickly adds, "i mean, of course, only if you're comfortable. we can just hit the bar or whatever if that's more your style."

you can't quite figure out how to respond to that, so you fall back on your usual banter. “you sure you want more one-on-one time with me?”

his expression shifts in an instant, eyes widening as he realizes how his offer sounds—like he just asked you out on a real, actual dinner date. he flushes a little, rubbing the back of his neck once again. "is that… is that a problem?" he asks, the tone of his voice dropping slightly.

you tilt your head, feeling mischevious now that the tables have turned. "not really," you say with a grin. "for me, at least. you, on the other hand… well, you’re about to lose that whole ‘working out’ physique pretty fast.”

he laughs a little. "i think i’ll survive."

--

tags (ask to be added or removed anytime!): @fear-is-truth @juliamaximoff @jazz-berry @violetsghosts @quickreider @tiffysdeath @honeymoon8 @wcnderlnds @lacucarachapisser @xrag-dollx @oceanblvd111 @andiloveher @vi0l3tgard3ns

[bratzbrat]

✟The Witch Hunter!

pairing: a witch!hunter! Katsuki Bakugo x fem!reader.

cw: mentions of death!/ death threats! | female reader! | mature language! | please proceed with caution! |

1.7k+ words.

ΝϴͲᎬ: hi bugs! sorry it took this long for chapter 4! but I've been up at late hours taking care of my grandma and carrying her for check ups at the hospital these past few days. she's doing better now! so hope ya enjoy!

⊰𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒 pt.1⊱ »»————> Bitter Hunter...

"good, you're up," he grunted, noticing your glare as you struggled against the shackles. "we're continuin' on foot."

"are you serious?" you scoffed, tugging against the restraints. "you went all the way back there, just to chain me up again?"

"damn right i did," he shot back, his eyes narrowing. "ain't giving ya' any more chances to use yer tricks."

rolling your eyes, you rose to your feet, "if i wanted to do anything, I would've done so last night..." you scowled, shaking off the cold stiffness lingering in your body from the night before. "so, you're going to drag me through the snow like this?" and your eyes widened as you realized... you were already dressed... though the delicate silver armor that once adorned your core, was missing, but he didn't give you much time to dwell on it

"got a problem?" he challenged, folding his arms. "didn't think so. now, move it." he gripped your arm and tugged you forward with a curt, "let's go."

as he dragged you out of the little house, you we're met with green sceneries, all around, as if snow hadn't almost buried you alive last night, and you gawked at the sight in disbelief. the forest floor was covered in patches of grass and flowers, you could hear the faint sound of running water in a nearby river and birds chirping from their homes in the towering trees. it was unbelievable. and the hunter tugged you forward, to start walking.

you tried keeping pace behind him, your breath picking up as you struggled to follow. the chill in the morning air and the heels you wore were doing you no favors. and each time he pulled on your chains, you winced, feeling bruises form on your wrists.

"can't you at least ease up a bit?" you suggested, trying to maintain a light tone, despite your growing fatigue. "it's not like i'm going anywhere."

"shut it, witch," he shot back, focus unwavering as he navigated the uneven terrain. "the last thing I need is you fallin' behind."

you huffed, rolling your eyes. "well i'm not exactly keen on being here. you're the one dragging me behind you."

"i could leave yer ass here, if you'd like." he muttered, and you could hear the overflowing sarcasm in his voice.

"is this your idea of kindness, then? like last night?" you asked, tilting your head slightly. "what generousity from a witch hunter."

"don' twist it," he growled, glancing back at you with that familiar scowl. "it was survival. that's it. nothin' more."

"sure it was, it's not like you were pressing my bare chest into yours... with your fingers almost digging into my back, might I add..." you retorted, unable to help yourself from teasing him a little. "i thought maybe we'd formed a connection, you know?"

"don' get ahead of yourself," he replied, barely sparing you a glance. "it wasn't like that, it ain't like that, and it won't ever be." he stressed, "i'll never feel anythin' for a witch."

you felt a sting at his words, but you quickly brushed it off. "right, it's ridiculous to think otherwise..." you muttered to yourself.

every step you took was met with sharp rocks and thorny brambles, tearing at your exposed ankles. the blonde hot head, grunted in frustration, each time you stumbled, with a scowl etched across his almost perfect face. the shackles clinked with every move, limiting your balance and speed. when you tripped over an uneven stone and landed hard on your knee, he clicked his tongue in annoyance, folding his arms as if to say, 'of course.'

"can't even walk fuckin' straight without makin' things harder, can ya'?" he growled, looking back at you on the ground.

you shot him a glare, pulling yourself up. "maybe I wouldn't keep tripping if I wasn't chained up like this!"

"maybe you wouldn't be, if I trusted you," he shot back, with a slight bit of mockery in his tone. "now stop whinin' and keep movin'."

your steps felt heavier the longer you walked, and your shoes—meant for anything but landscaping— only worsened the ordeal. a sharp pain pulsed through your foot as you stumbled once more, and you let out a frustrated huff.

"agh- my feet—" you started.

and mr. hot head cut you off with an annoyed snarl, "then quit wearin' those ridiculous fuckin' shoes. ain't doin' anyone favors with 'em."

you bit your tongue, resisting the urge to snap back. the exhaustion was setting in, making it harder to ignore the ache in your feet, the rawness of your wrists and the ever-growing hunger gnawing at your stomach. finally, you had enough.

"stop," you said, tugging back against his grip. "we need to rest."

he spun around, eyes narrowed in irritation. "y'think just 'cause yer tired we're takin' a break? newsflash, princess: we ain't got the luxury."

you stood firm, refusing to budge. "you can grunt all you want, i'm not going anywhere until I can feel my feet again."

he let out a rough exhale, "we're movin', even if I gotta drag ya' the whole way." clearly at the end of his patience.

you dropped to the ground with a huff, closing your eyes for a moment, letting the brief reprieve calm your pounding heart. and you could feel his glare fixed on you.

you looked up at him, undeterred by his hostility. "without my cooperation, we'd have a pretty slim chance of making it out of here alive, you know." you said, your tone unwavering.

his eyes narrowed down at you again and his jaw clenched at your words. "i don' need a godsdamn witch's help," he sneered, "just need you alive long enough to haul your ass back to stand trial. if i gotta drag ya' the whole way there, i will."

"and what then? you think a stiff-necked trial will do anything but waste everyone's time?" you scoffed, rolling your eyes. you could get out of this anytime you wanted...

his lips curled into a bitter smirk. "that stiff-necked trial decides the exact way yer gonna die." he lowered himself down in front of you, "people 're gonna pay good coin to see yer head roll." and sneered, making sure he looked you dead in the eyes. " 'n if they choose torture instead, i'll make sure ya' beg for death. 'cause i'll be the one carryin' it out." his eyes drifted from yours to your slightly parted lips, then quickly darted back up again.

"before that, hunter, i'll make you beg for the help of a witch." you challenged, getting a little lost in his fire.

his words had snapped a few heartstrings that formed when held you for warmth, and you cursed yourself for feeling even a ounce of anything for him, as you looked into his crimson eyes. "so beautiful," you whispered, barely audible and he shuffled back a bit, glaring at you.

you met his stare again, shaking off that thought. "you better pray to the goddess, that we don't run into trouble. you might be strong, but even the strongest have their weaknesses."

he scoffed at your —uncalled for— words, but the flicker of hesitation in his eyes was there, even if, just for a second. ignoring it, he gave a sharp tug on your arm, forcing you back to your feet. "we're wastin' daylight. let's go." was all he brought himself to say.

-

the hours crawled by as you trudged forward and just when you thought you couldn't bear it any longer, you saw a small village ahead, nestled in the valley, like it was forgotten by the rest of the world.

he paused, surveying the huts and cabins, with a tense expression before turning to you. "listen up," he commanded, "keep any 'n all of your... witch crap hidden. last thing I need is anyone seein' me with a livin' one o' you."

"aw, and we were just on the brink of becoming friends too..." you pouted, feigning disappointment.

"try anythin', and I mean at all, and you'll regret it." he shot you a sharp glare, and you had to suppress an amused laugh.

"we wouldn't want that, would we?" you teased, locking eyes with him just before he tugged at your chains, leading you into the village.

you trailed behind him, your eyes drifting over the skeletal remains of what used to be a village. crumbling huts and rotting beams cast shadows across the ash-covered ground, each step stirring up fragments of the life that had once been here. and the only sounds being the crunch of your footsteps.

"oi, witch, keep up. ain't got all day for you to gawk at some broken-down village." he grunted in irritation, glancing back to see you lingering near one of the collapsed structures.

you raised a brow. "what's the matter? are you scared a curse might rub off on you?" you teased.

"tch," he scoffed, turning away from you. "i ain't scared of some pathetic curse. just don' wanna spend any more time in witch-infested places than I gotta." but that wasn't it. something else had been rubbing him in all wrong ways as he scanned the area.

a smirk tugged at your lips as you followed him, sensing his unease. "you're jumpier than I expected for a witch hunter," you muttered under your breath, knowing he could hear.

he whipped around, "i'm not a witch hunter, i'm the witch hunter. the best there is. so watch it. witch." he spat back, quick to correct you.

rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms. "if you were actually the best, you'd know curses don't stick like that."

"like i'd trust anythin' ya' say, witch. all yer people do is twist words to get what ya' want." he sneered, glaring back at you.

shaking your head, you brushed past him, challenging his intense stare. "believe what you will, hunter. and you better hope your strength is enough, for if we run into anything more than a curse here."

you jinxed it...

a low, guttural rumble vibrated through your body, a sound that sent a chill down your spine. and you spun around, searching for what that could've possibly come out of. your mind racing as you considered what kind of creature was watching you— a tiger? bear? something worse?

thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed!

find the previous chapters in my masterlist!

you can also comment to be added to the taglist for

✟The Witch Hunter!

plz check ur privacy settings before commenting to be tagged!

©𝐵𝑙𝑢♡

»»————>𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@annepamgkrth @pikachuzhc @icedemon1314 @d1orhaz3 @alyssasblogthings @katsucookies @hashahasha @mythicalmo @k0z3me @nanaanatiion

[mingi-s-dimples]

Good boy - Hongjoong

~ HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY, MY SWEETHEART!! ~ @hongjoongtime117

pairing: hongjoong x fem!reader

genre: 18+, filth

summary: Your boyfriend is such, such a good boy.. and you decide to reward him for his behavior.

wc: 4.5k

warnings: established relationship, bdsm au, bdsm relationship, sub!hongjoong, dom fem!reader, hongjoong is so whiny and whimpers, reader is kinda strict but she's a good person and let's him cum ^^ lots lots of cum, handjob (two times), oral (m receiving), overstim, overwhelming, 3 orgasm, orgasm after orgasm, reader is a pleasure dom, praise, petnames, (blindfold), use of sex toys (vibrator, vibrating ring), bdsm crop (the rod with the piece of leather in one end), dacryphilia, aftercare, lots of edging and some denying, deepthroating, cum swallowing, completely consensual, unedited, for sure forgot something .

Author's Note: Happy late birthday, my lovie! I'm so so sorry for being so late w this 😭😭😭 I wanted to finish writing jt earlier but had some personal shit to deal w and didn't have time to finish writing it 😞 I hope you will enjoy it ^^ pls lmk what you think about itttt

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent in any way the reality of the member.

Sunlight crept into the room, casting a soft glow over the lingering chaos left from last night’s movie marathon. Pillows were sprawled across the bed, blankets tangled from restless rolling and laughing, and crumpled snack bags lay scattered around the room. Somewhere in the center of it all stood Hongjoong, hair slightly mussed, looking endearingly focused as he gathered the remains.

You lingered by the door, content to just watch him, feeling a gentle warmth rise in your chest as he fussed over each detail, folding the blanket, picking up wrappers, quietly determined to restore order. He seemed completely oblivious to your presence, humming faintly as he worked, pausing every so often to shake his head at the mess with a smile that told you he didn’t mind, even if it was a bit much to handle first thing in the morning.

But as he moved around, you noticed how the soft morning light highlighted the lines of his shoulders and back through the thin fabric of his shirt, how each motion set a subtle flexing in his muscles. Just as you let your eyes trail a bit lower, he suddenly reached behind his neck, gathering the hem of his shirt in his hands before lifting it over his head. You watched, your breath catching as he tossed it aside with casual indifference.

For a moment, you were frozen, caught off guard as he bent over to grab an empty chip bag. The movement sent a ripple through his back, smooth skin and toned muscles on display, leaving you with no choice but to lean against the doorframe, taking in the sight. A smirk found its way to your lips as you planned how you were going to make this moment a little more fun.

Moving quietly, you slipped into the room, closing the door softly behind you. approaching him. Hongjoong, still unaware, continued picking up the remnants of last night. You came up right behind him and waited until he bent forward to pick up another chip bag before leaning in.

“Hard at work, aren’t you?” you murmured, voice low, teasing, just a bit too close for him to stay calm.

He jumped slightly, straightening up so quickly that he almost bumped into you, eyes widening in surprise. “Y/N! I didn’t… I didn’t know you were—uh—awake.”

You raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down with a smirk that you knew would make him squirm. “Clearly. Here I was, wondering what was making all that noise, and then I find you… cleaning up nicely. Thought I’d just admire the view for a bit.”

A flush crept up his cheeks, and he instinctively reached for his shirt, hesitating, realizing it was now out of reach. “I was just… you know, picking things up.” He fidgeted, glancing down at the floor, his usually confident gaze faltering under your eyes.

“Well, I see that,” you said, folding your arms as you leaned in, not letting him escape your gaze. “But you didn’t have to go and take your shirt off, did you? Not that I mind.” You allowed yourself a lingering look, eyes drifting down his bare torso before meeting his eyes again.

He swallowed, hands curling nervously at his sides as he tried to find his voice. “I… I just thought it was a bit warm, and, you know, I was working, so…”

You reached out, tracing a single finger down his arm, watching with satisfaction as his breath hitched and his skin tingled under your touch. “You were working hard,” you murmured, tilting your head. “And here I thought you were just trying to show off for me.”

His eyes darted away, the blush deepening as he let out a shaky laugh. “N-no, I wasn’t trying to… I mean, it’s not like that…”

“Isn’t it?” You tilted your head, letting your voice drop to a playful whisper as you leaned closer, catching the faintest hint of his cologne mixed with the lingering scent of movie night snacks. “Because, to me, it sure looks like you’re putting on a little show, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong’s hands fumbled as he tried to look anywhere but directly at you, the usual cool, confident expression on his face melting into something softer, more vulnerable. “You’re… you’re teasing me.”

“Oh, am I?” you murmured, feigning innocence as you placed a hand on his chest, pressing lightly just to feel the quick rise and fall of his breath beneath your fingers. “Funny. Here I thought I was just… helping. Don’t you like a little help, Joong?”

He shivered at the nickname, looking up at you with wide, almost pleading eyes. “Y/N, I… I really should finish cleaning up,” he whispered, the hesitation in his voice doing nothing to hide how much he was affected by your touch.

“Oh, don’t let me stop you,” you replied, leaning back just a little, arms crossing as you watched him with a satisfied grin. “By all means, keep going. I’ll just… supervise.”

He nodded, biting his lip as he glanced around, his face red as he tried to resume his task. But each time he bent down, he seemed to become hyper-aware of your eyes on him, his movements growing slower, more self-conscious as he fumbled with each chip bag and wrapper. You had to hold back a laugh, thoroughly enjoying how flustered he’d become.

As he finally straightened up with a small stack of empty bags, you reached out, stopping him with a hand on his arm. He froze, looking down at you with wide eyes, waiting, expectant. Without breaking eye contact, you brushed your fingers along his arm, letting them linger, feeling his muscles tense slightly under your touch.

“Nice arms,” you commented, keeping your tone casual even as you noticed his breathing grow shallow. “Ever notice that, Hongjoong?”

His blush deepened, and he struggled to keep his voice steady. “I… I don’t really… I mean, I just… you know.”

You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I do know. Care to explain?”

He stammered, clearly flustered beyond belief, his gaze shifting to the side as he whispered, “I… I don’t really pay attention to… stuff like that.”

“Well, maybe you should,” you teased, giving his arm a gentle squeeze before stepping back, savoring the adorable, helpless look on his face. “After all, it’s not every day you get compliments, is it?”

He let out a soft, almost whiny noise, glancing down at his feet as he muttered, “No… it’s not.”

Your smile softened, but you weren’t done yet. Not even close. “Good,” you said, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from his face. “Because I think you look amazing, and I want you to know that. Every single time I see you.”

Hongjoong’s eyes met yours, wide and vulnerable, and for a moment, the tension hung thick in the air. Then, with a shaky breath, he looked away again, his voice barely a whisper. “Y/N… you’re really… something.”

You laughed softly, reaching out to give his cheek a gentle pat. “And you’re really adorable, Joong,” you replied, letting your hand linger a moment longer than necessary. “Now, don’t let me distract you. You’ve got a room to clean.”

He nodded, looking dazed as he turned back to the mess, though his hands were shaking slightly as he continued picking up the leftover wrappers and pillows. You watched him, satisfied with the blush on his cheeks and the slight tremble in his movements, feeling more than a little proud of the effect you had on him.

As he continued cleaning, you crossed your arms, leaning against the doorframe with a smug grin, knowing you’d gotten to him. And with each little glance he stole at you, each time his hands fumbled, you could see that the teasing wasn’t something he was going to forget anytime soon. But you wanted even more.

"Okay, okay.. that's enough, sweetie." you said.

"Huh? The sheets are n-not-"

"We'll fuck them up anyway. Lay in bed." your voice lower than usual, but with the usual playful vibe.

His hands froze at your words, and a visible shiver ran through him. For a moment, he looked like he was trying to process whether you really meant it. You held his gaze, still leaning against the doorframe, and with a little nod, motioned toward the bed.

Slowly, he straightened up, cheeks flushed deeper as he left the half-finished sheets behind and made his way over, a hint of nervousness and excitement in his eyes. He lay down in his usual, comfortable sprawl—one arm draped across the pillow, legs spread out just enough to fill the space. His hair was slightly mussed from all the cleaning, and the pink on his cheeks had darkened, giving him a soft, vulnerable look.

You stepped closer, fingers reaching for the hem of his shirt, tugging it just a bit to get his attention. He tilted his head to look at you, his eyes following your every movement, anticipation clear on his face.

With a smirk, you turned and slid open the drawer beside the bed, your hand finding exactly what you had in mind. You took out a few things, giving each item a meaningful glance before setting them on the bedside table. His gaze followed every little move, the tension between you thickening as he realized what you had planned.

“Just for you,” you murmured, letting the playful tone in your voice linger as you sat beside him, your fingers trailing along his arm.

Moving your hands lower, your fingers trail along the waistband of his pants, playing with the fabric as you look up at him with a teasing smile. He bites his lip, anticipation clear in his eyes, and gives a small nod. You tug gently, guiding them down his hips and legs, letting them fall to the floor alongside his shirt.

Now, he’s fully exposed beneath you, vulnerable yet trusting, a hint of nervous excitement in his eyes. You lean in, brushing your fingers along his arm, letting him know you’re right there with him.

You keep your gaze on his face as you reach for the riding crop, allowing him to see exactly what’s coming. The crop is a slim, flexible rod, its length wrapped in cool, polished metal. At the end is a small, square leather paddle, just firm enough to make an impression but soft enough to keep things playful. You give it a little snap in the air, just to see his reaction.

He swallows, the anticipation in his eyes heightening. He’s ready, waiting for whatever you’re about to bring his way. But first, you reach over and pick up a blindfold. Its soft, velvety material slips smoothly between your fingers as you lean forward, holding it up just in his line of sight. "Close your eyes," you whisper.

As he obeys, you bring the blindfold down over his eyes, tying it securely but comfortably. The effect is immediate; his breaths deepen, his chest rising and falling under you as he sinks fully into the experience, the loss of vision making him even more acutely aware of each little sensation.

You lower yourself onto him, feeling the warmth of his bare skin against yours, and you notice his body responding. The tension between you thickens as he stifles a low groan, his arousal unmistakable beneath you.

With the crop in hand, you start at his shoulder, dragging the cool metal down slowly, letting him feel each inch as it slides over his skin. You pause just above his chest, letting the leather paddle brush lightly against him. His breath hitches, his body reacting to even the slightest touch.

"How does that feel?" you ask softly, letting him sense the smirk in your voice.

"Amazing," he breathes, his voice low and filled with need.

You let a teasing smile play on your lips as you reach over to the drawer, pulling out a sleek new surprise, its subtle hum breaking the silence in the room. A vibrator. You don’t need to see his eyes to feel the way he tenses in anticipation, a slight shiver running through him as he senses the new element you've brought into play.

With deliberate slowness, you bring the device near his skin, tracing feather-light lines along his body, testing the way he responds. Each touch brings a fresh reaction—a soft gasp, a quick inhale, his muscles tightening under your touch. His breath quickens as he tries to adjust to each sensation, the unpredictable rhythm keeping him on edge.

You make a game of it, drawing back when he seems to be getting used to one spot, then switching things up with a new touch or angle. His reactions fuel your every move, guiding you as you playfully keep him guessing, his body reacting to each carefully placed touch. Then, your hand guided the toy near his inner thighs, then to his cock. He flinched, but your immediate touch made him settle.

"You know the rules... right?" you asked, waiting for him.

"Y-yes..." he answered, already out of it.

"If you do, tell me."

"I-i should not c-cum if you dont s-say so.." he compiled to your question, a satisfactory smile rising on your lips.

"And?"

"My hands s-should always be b-behind me"

"Good boy." you said and moved the vibrator to his cock.

You got closer to him. Your left hand was resting on his thigh, making small circles onto the flesh. Your right hand was tracing lines and circles all along his entire length, achingly hard. You first circled its tip with the lowest speed, softly starting to put pressure onto it. He squirmed under your touch, muffling his moans back.

He was getting close but, you were not done yet.

You moved the free hand under the base of his cock, holding him down. You moved the head of the vibrator along the tip and the shaft, on a medium speed, then you raised it a bit. He let out a soft moan, his chest rapidly rising.

"P-please..." he pleaded.

"<Please> what? Use your words, pretty boy." you suddenly pressed the vibrator to the tip, forcefully.

"Ah, fuck! Ngh-" he moaned out, biting his lower lip.

"Use. Your. Words." you spelled it out for him, his hands barely at his back right now.

"P-please touch me again.. your hand - I need it.. p-please" he begs, nuscles tensing under your touch. A tear fell down his cheek, a playful, almost sadistic-like smile, appearing on your face.

"What a slut... aren't you?" you replaced the vibrator with your hand, "Who's slut are you?" you pumped him once.

"Y-yours! Y-yours.." he whispered.

"That's right, darling." and you decided that he deserved to cum so, you fastened your hand on his cock and the vibrator to his tip, circling it. It was already heavily leaking with pre cum, and as soon as you squeezed the tip of his cock and held the vibrator pressed to it he came, pearly white strings of cum splattering everywhere all over his lower abs and your hand, soft moans and whimpers leaving his rosy, flustered face, turning you on all over again.

You watched him, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips as Hongjoong panted, cheeks flushed and eyes half-lidded as he looked at you for approval. The sight of him—disheveled, vulnerable, a little shy—was exactly what you'd been hoping for.

"Well, well," you drawled, crossing your arms as you let your gaze linger over him, deliberately letting the silence stretch. "Look at you. So obedient, aren't you?"

Hongjoong swallowed hard, looking down, still catching his breath. "I… I did what you asked," he murmured, voice soft and a little shaky. The red in his cheeks only deepened as he spoke.

You tilted your head, making a show of appraising him slowly from head to toe, and then you moved a step closer. "Oh, I know. You did *such* a good job, didn’t you?"

His eyes flickered up to meet yours, a hint of desperation and hope mixed in with that shy, flustered look. He nodded, biting his lip in anticipation. "Y-Yes…"

You leaned in close, your voice dropping to a whisper as you tilted his chin up gently. "Did it feel good to follow the rules, Hongjoong? To do exactly as you were told?"

He whimpered slightly, closing his eyes for a moment, the sound caught somewhere between a whine and a plea. "Y-Yes… felt… so good."

"Mmm, that's what I thought," you chuckled, enjoying how his breathing hitched as you traced a gentle finger along his jawline. "And good boys who follow the rules get rewarded. Isn’t that right?"

He nodded again, his voice coming out in a small, pleading whisper. "Yes… please…"

You smiled, letting your hand trail down to his chest and then stepping back just enough to keep him wanting. "Ah, ah, so eager. But remember, *I* decide when you get your reward."

He let out a small whine, his eyes full of anticipation and need as he looked up at you. "Please…"

"So needy for me, for my hand..." said hand travelled across his chest, over his hardened nipples, softly pinching them. As you watched him squirm under you in pleasure, you moved the same hand to his pelvis, to the base of his hard-again cock. You got closer to him, leaned down and looked at him.

"I believe you'd.. like to see this," you said and softly reached out to touch the velvet fabric on his eyes and took it off. His eyes widened at your position: you were leaning on all fours between his legs, back arching, face as close as possible to his cock.

"O-oh god, babe.. you look s-so... good." he said, stuttering.

"Do you want it, Joong? Do you want me to suck you off?"

He swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on you, desire pooling in his eyes as he struggled to catch his breath. "Y-Yes... please, baby," he whispered, his voice thick with need. "I've never wanted anything more."

A teasing smile curved on your lips. "Are you sure?" you murmured, your fingers grazing lightly along his thigh, making him shiver. "I want to hear you say it, Joong."

His hands balled into fists, knuckles whitening as he tried to hold back. "Yes," he said again, more clearly this time, his voice shaking with anticipation. "I need you... I need you so bad."

You could feel the tension between you building with every second, a delicious heat that made your heart race. "Good," you purred, finally leaning forward to give him exactly what he asked for.

You leaned in, kissing the soft skin of his tip. He squirmed slightly, adjusting to the new activity. You then went on completing your reward. Your left hand held onto the base of his cock, slightly squeezing. You leaned in and kissed the tip, then licked the shaft up and down slowly for a couple of times. He already looked out of it, breath hitching and biting his lips with every touch of yours. His chest rose up and down as you went on finally sucking his length. You took a deep breath and took his whole dick all up your throat, choking and gagging on it. He whined out, hands barely behind his back now. You looked up at him and saw how eager he was to mouth fuck you.

"What you doing with the hands, baby? Didn't we agree on keeping them away from any activity?"

"I-i know... b-but.." he said.

"What? Do you want to fuck my throat so badly?" you teased.

"Y-yes ! P-please.. please." he pleaded, looking at you with puppy eyes.

"You've been a good boy lately... should I grant you your wish? Hm?"

As you smile up at him, you see his breath hitch, his eyes widening with a mix of anticipation and vulnerability. You bring one hand to his, guiding it gently, slowly, up to the top of your head. His fingers tremble slightly under your touch, betraying how much he wants this, how hard he’s trying to hold himself back.

"Here, hold me just like this," you whisper, your voice soft but commanding. "But remember, I'm leading until I say otherwise."

He nods quickly, his gaze intense, fixated on you with a desperate, pleading look. He held onto your hair softly as you took a mouthful of his length, your head bobbing up and down, sloppy sounds escaping your mouth. He shifted under you, slowly lifting his pelvis, in search of even more friction. He was *desperate*.

You stopped for a moment, looked and him and smiled. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you let the silence stretch out, savoring the way he’s utterly at your mercy. His breathing is heavy, his eyes locked onto yours, and his whole body is tense with anticipation.

You gently stroke his cheek, running your thumb over his parted lips. "You’re so eager," you murmur, voice dripping with satisfaction. "But remember, patience is a virtue." You let your hand trail down his chest, feeling his muscles tense beneath your touch, making him wait, savoring every moment.

When you finally continue, the pace is slower, more deliberate. You want to keep him on the edge, prolonging the intensity until he can barely contain himself. He groans, struggling not to buck his hips, obeying your lead with palpable effort.

"Good," you whisper approvingly, feeling the power of the moment settle between you both.

You keep your pace steady, teasing and edging him as his breaths grow ragged. His hands grip the sheets tightly, and he’s trembling now, trying to hold on. You glance up, meeting his pleading gaze, and you can feel how close he is—he's barely holding back, right on the edge.

With a knowing smile, you take him even deeper, giving him exactly what he’s been craving. The effect is immediate; his whole body tenses as he gasps, then moans, his voice breaking into soft, needy whimpers. He’s completely undone, lost in the overwhelming sensation, as he finally came. You swallowed everything, not a single drop went to waste as you slurped his load.

You don't pull away just yet. You keep him there, drawing out every last shiver, drop, until he’s utterly spent, lying back with his chest rising and falling, his eyes glazed and dazed with satisfaction. He looks up at you, breathless and vulnerable, and you brush a gentle hand across his cheek, savoring the intimacy of the moment.

Your hand reaches into the drawer beside you, fingers brushing over various items until you find what you’re looking for—the ring. Slowly, you draw it out, letting it rest in the palm of your hand, then hold it up for him to see. His eyes widen, a mix of anticipation and apprehension flickering across his face as he realizes what’s coming.

You move closer, holding his gaze as you slip the ring over his length, positioning it carefully and pausing just a second to let him feel its presence before you turn it on. The subtle, controlled vibrations pulse through him, sending a shiver down his spine. He gasps, his body immediately reacting as his hands clench and his breathing quickens.

You begin stroking him slowly, letting the ring do its work in tandem with each deliberate movement of your hand. His head falls back, lips parted as the sensations wash over him, and you see the need building in his expression—an almost desperate, needy look overtaking his face. He lets out soft, gasping pleas, his voice barely holding steady as he begs to be allowed to finish.

“Please,” he whispers, his voice tight, almost broken, as he meets your eyes with a pleading look. “I can’t… I need to…” he said, already damn overstimulated from the other two orgasms he had.

Tears begin to gather in the corners of his eyes, spilling over as his body shudders under your touch. You stay with him in that space, keeping the rhythm unrelenting but just on the edge of what he can handle, watching as he falls apart with each stroke, each pulse of the ring. His pleas become more frantic, his voice breaking as he teeters on the edge, unable to contain himself any longer.

You tilt your head, watching him struggle beneath you, his breaths coming in sharp gasps as he clings to the last bit of control he has. Smiling, you lean in close, letting your voice drop to a whisper.

"Have you been a good boy?" you ask, letting your fingers trace teasingly down his length, just enough to keep him teetering on the edge. His face flushes even deeper, eyes glazed and lips trembling as he tries to form words, but all that escape him are whimpers.

He manages a shaky nod, voice breaking as he stammers, "Y-Yes... please… I’ve been good."

You raise an eyebrow, feigning doubt, as you tighten your grip slightly, feeling him tense up under your touch. "Do you really think you deserve it?” you continue, letting each word hang as you slow your movements to a torturous pace.

Tears stream down his cheeks as he nods frantically, desperation clear in his voice. "Yes… please… I can’t—please, I need it," he chokes out, his voice a needy, pleading whisper.

With a smile, you finally relent, stroking him firmly in time with the ring’s pulse, building him up until he can’t hold back anymore. His entire body tenses as he cries out, surrendering completely, waves of relief flooding through him. You hold him steady, drawing out each trembling shiver, watching as his face softens, the tension melting away until he’s left breathless and spent, drops of silky white cum all over your hand, his abs and the now fucked up sheets.

As he finally relaxes, you gently stroke his hair, whispering words of praise. “You did so well, love. You were perfect,” you say softly, letting your voice soothe him as you place gentle kisses along his forehead and cheeks. His breathing slowly steadies, and you wrap your arms around him, holding him close as he melts into the embrace, seeking warmth and comfort.

You keep him close, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against you. Your fingers draw slow circles on his back as he buries his face into your shoulder, letting himself settle. After a few quiet moments, you gently pull back to meet his gaze, giving him a reassuring smile.

"How are you feeling?" you ask, your tone warm and full of care.

He takes a deep breath, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he searches for the right words. "I… I feel safe," he murmurs, his voice a little shaky but filled with a deep sense of contentment. "Thank you."

You give him another gentle squeeze. "That’s all I want—for you to feel safe and happy." You press a tender kiss to his forehead, watching as his eyes close, a calm, peaceful expression settling on his face.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

[nethhiri]

Frankenheat's Monster

Warnings: sex (including threesome MFF and brief MM mention), somnophilia, reanimation?, classic old-timey mob violence

Setting: Frankenstein era-ish?

Finally finished my Halloween fic! Sorry it took so long! I hope you all enjoy it. It's a bit sillier than my typical writing.

"It lives! It lives!" You laughed excited. "Look at him, Freja." Your lovely assistant was just as excited as you were.

You grabbed each other's arms and spun in a circle celebrating. The creature on the table began to stir. His chest rose and fell, his eyes blinked, and he groaned. The man you had painstakingly assembled had finally been brought to life by a stroke of lightning. No one would understand the amount of work that had gone into him, the hours digging up fresh bodies looking for parts, thousand of needle pokes between the two of you sewing him together, and of course peeping through every window in the village on the hunt for biggest cock available.

What mattered the most was that your creation was beautiful and your crimes went unnoticed. He was tall. He was sculpted. He had the biggest, brownest sad eyes. And he was the proud new owner of the best cock in town, certified pre-owned.

You and your assistant took the leather restraints off of him. He struggled for a moment to gain control of his muscles before sitting up in a jerking fashion. He looked between you and Freja, cocking his head to the side. A few groans left him, like he was trying to say something.

"Take your time." You patted him. "It'll be a minute before you can function like a human." Your hand lingered on his thigh, appreciating the warmth it had now. You put your hand on your chest. "My name is Victoria Frankenheat."

"And I'm Freja," your assistant added. She picked up his hand and modeled shaking it. "Nice to meet you."

He groaned again. "FFfffnnnheeet." He clenched his fists, concentrating. "Hhhhheeeeee." Mimicking what you had done, he put his hand on his chest. "Heeeaat. Heat."

"Is that you? You can pick any name you want."

"Heat." He patted his chest.

"He's learning so fast!" You clapped your hands together, excitedly looking at Freja.

The two of you helped him stand, keeping him steady on his wobbly, baby giraffe legs. The two of you guided him to the room you had set up. It was simple. He had a twin bed, a dresser, and a mirror. The best part about creating a man from scratch was that you didn't have to reteach it everything. Some of the residual memories from the previous owner remained, which allowed him to speak and recognize objects. Freja went to the dresser and pulled out some clothes for him, helping to put them on. The pants were first. They may have been too small for him. It was a slight struggle to lace them up over his package. And even laced all the way, a tuft of blue-gray hair, matching the long locks on his head, poked from the waistband and trickled toward his belly button. It was an odd color but it matched his slightly gray skin tone. It, the skin, was barely noticeable, you hoped. The shirt fit much better. It wasn't much, just a thin linen shirt. You weren't sure if this would work or what size the creation would end up being, so you didn't have many clothes for him. You would have to go to town to get more.

Over the next several days, you played house. You and Freja cooked for him and taught him about various things he would need to function on his own. The two of you helped him bathe and showed him how to take care of himself. You even showed him how to tighten your corsets and lace up your boots so that he could help you both get ready to go to town.

_______________________________________________

Perhaps his appearance was more noticeable than you thought. As the three of you walked arm in arm, with Heat in the middle, the townsfolk gave him strange looks. Freja was just as surprised as you. Maybe the two of you had been over eager to take your creation on a walk. Every time you tried to walk into a storefront, they would hastily lock the doors and pretend to be closed.

"They're afraid of me."

"What? No! It's not you, hon." You squeezed his arm. "Freja just stinks horribly."

"Hey!" Freja protested but leaned into Heat. "Who cares if they're scared? We're not scared of you. We know you're a gentle giant."

Heat remained dubious.

The three of you walked on, to a part of town that would pay less attention to odd things. There was someone you wanted Heat to meet. You arrived at a battered bar. It hardly looked open but you were familiar with the owner. You went inside, helping Heat duck to fit through the doorway. A short, feisty woman smoking a pipe addressed you and slapped a shotgun down on the bar top.

"Well if it isn't the good doctor and her lovely assistant," Nan said sarcastically, blowing a puff of smoke toward them. Her eyes moved to the large gentlemen between the two of you. "So this is what you've been up to, huh?"

She held her hand out to the man. "I'm Nan."

Heat was pleasantly surprised to be directly addressed, and by someone who didn't appear to be afraid of him. He shook her hand. "Heat."

Nan observed the skin of his hand. "I recognize this one."

"Your... other business came in handy, literally." You smirked.

"Too bad this one worked. I could use some extra coin." Nan sighed, dismayed.

Nan moonlit as a grave robber. She was able to procure some of the parts that Freja and yourself were unable to find. She rummaged behind the bar and turned around with two drinks.

She nodded to Heat. "Can he drink?"

You and Freja shared a look and shrugged. You picked up one of the glasses and offered it to him. Heat sniffed it experimentally and threw it back in one gulp, wrinkling his nose and coughing immediately afterward.

"Whoa! Not so fast, big guy!" Freja patted his back.

Heat put a hand over his stomach and appeared distressed. A moment passed and Heat burped so intensely, a small flame burst from his mouth.

"Is that normal?" Nan asked skeptically.

You and Freja glanced at each other and shrugged again. Nan shook her head with a dubious look in her eye and poured another drink for yourself and Heat.

The three of you sat in a dark corner of the bar while Nan fixed drinks for others. There weren't many there, but they kept to themselves for the most part. They still shot wary glances towards Heat though. The three of you sipped your drinks and discussed getting Heat some better fitting clothes.

Freja took the empty glasses back to the bar when you had all finished your drinks. On the way back to the table, one of the more rowdy customers pulled her into their lap. She elbowed him in the chest and he released her, only to grab her wrist before she could walk away.

"Keep your hands to yourself," Freja spat, trying to break free from his grasp.

Before you could interject, Heat calmly walked to their table. You hadn't realized how much he towered over the average man until he was right next to them. They were practically white with fear when the intimidating construct reached them.

"That isn't nice." Heat grabbed the man's wrist until he released Freja, then let him go.

"Is that so? What do you know about "nice", you abomination?"

"I am not an abomination. My name is Heat."

The man stood up, sadly only coming up to Heat's chest in height, and stood toe to toe with him.

"I don't care what your name is. Something about you isn't right."

"Leave him alone," Freja shouted at the man.

Nan was unbothered by the scene, suggesting some regularity of occurrence.

"Heat," you reminded him, "it's okay to defend a lady... and yourself."

Heat turned back to the man, appraising him, before swiftly knocking him out and sending him flying into the bar. He looked back at you for confirmation that he did well.

You nodded once. "We should go."

Freja took Heat by one elbow and you laced your arm through his other one.

"Sorry, Nan." You called over your shoulder as you left.

"I always hated that guy anyway," she replied.

The three of you left before his friends could get upset, not that they would dare do anything now that they've seen how strong Heat was. Before you headed home, you ran into a store on your own and managed to get clothes that would fit him better. Heat had a somber air about him and was deep in thought on the trip back. For the next few days, he was like that. You and Freja reassured him that he wasn't "an abomination" and that people were uneasy because he was different. Both of you gave him extra affection and attention in an attempt to make him forget about it, but ever since that day, there was sadness in his eyes.

_______________________________________________

Several months had passed and Heat refused to go to town again. Occasionally you would have to chase off kids, and adults for that matter, who "wanted to see the monster". Heat enjoyed reading books from your collection, so if either you or Freja went to town, you would try to bring him a new one. It helped him with his vocabulary and learning to be human. He actually turned out to be much brighter than you had originally thought. He was also very perceptive and capable of critical thinking.

"May I ask something?" Heat looked up from the book he currently had.

"Of course," you answered.

"When you kiss Freja, it's on the mouth. When you kiss me, it's on the cheek. Why is that? Is it different?"

The question took you off-guard. "Well, yes." You cleared your throat. "Freja and I love each other and we're in a relationship with each other." You quickly added, "And we love you, too. It's just in a different way."

"Why?"

"Um, well, we love each other romantically, and we love you platonically, as a friend."

"But why can't it be the same way?"

You thought for a moment, trying to find words to explain. Of course, initially, he was created to be a companion for the two of you, however, since he turned out quite intelligent with a will of his own, it felt wrong to make those decisions for him. He was more of a good friend, an excellent friend really.

"I suppose it could be. It takes time for that to happen."

"How will I know?" He was asking all the difficult questions.

"You'll know. There's a warm feeling whenever you're with them. Your heart skips a beat whenever you look at them. You don't want to let them go once you have them in your arms. And so on."

"I see." Heat continued. "And do you think it's possible? For someone like me?"

There was a tinge of sadness in his voice. It was only fair that he thought like that, seeing as everyone he's encountered has been afraid of him, and that he was essentially a constant third wheel. He probably felt isolated.

"Of course it is." You stopped what you were doing and went to him. Gently, you removed the book from is hands, setting it aside. You wrapped your arms around him and squeezed. "You're perfect in every way. I know because that's how we made you."

He returned the hug, albeit a bit stiffly, softening his embrace at the end.

_______________________________________________

On an intensely stormy night, not unlike the one he was created on, Heat was awoken by the claps of thunder and bright flashes of lightning. This was the first storm he had experienced and he decided he was not very fond of them. The thunder shook the walls and he was scared it would bring the entire house down. Before he knew what he was doing, he found himself outside the door to your room. He thought maybe he should be there in case the house did crumble to the thunder. It was also a habit at this point to go to yourself or Freja when he needed comforting.

He pushed the door open slowly as the lightning illuminated your sleeping forms. Heat knelt on the foot of the mattress, trying the figure out how to squeeze himself into the bed too. He felt like he could go back to sleep if he was nestled between the people he cared about most. Gingerly, he pulled the sheet back. Both of you were wearing nightgowns, but they were pushed up by the tossing and turning in your sleep. Heat couldn't help but put a hand on the exposed skin of your leg. It was so soft, without any scars or marks. It was so different than his own. Freja's was the same.

The storm was all but forgotten as Heat became enchanted by the differences between himself and you. He ran his hand up the smooth, perfect skin of your leg, amazed by how soft you were. He had pushed up the rest of your nightie and was shocked to find that there was no dangling things like he had. The medical texts that you used weren't in your library, they were in the lab, so Heat was unfamiliar with the details of anatomy. Heat did the same to Freja for comparison. Equally as soft, equally as un-membered.

His hand traveled up the gown, under the fabric, and there were more soft things. Where his chest was firm, yours was malleable and squishy. Freja's was the same. Heat pondered these discoveries. As he did so, he became aware of his sleep pants becoming tight. He looked down and was taken aback by his dangling thing, which was less dangling and more poking now. He let it free from its confines, curious as to what it was doing. He gave it an experimental touch. It felt good, really good.

Freja stirred in her sleep, moving her leg and allowing Heat a better view of what biological females looked like. Heat still didn't see any dangling, or poking out, things. Though it looked like there could be something within the crevice. Heat didn't know that what he was doing was considered wrong. He thought he was doing some scientific type of investigation, like what you did in your lab. He, with great care, separated the two folds, expecting a secret dangling thing, but he only saw an opening. Heat thought for a moment. It looked about big enough for a finger. Maybe the dangling bit was inside and it came out to pee. He slipped his finger into the opening. There was nothing in there, but it was warm, and squishy, and wet. For some reason, thinking about it made his own dangling-now-poking thing jump and twitch, spilling some fluid from the tip.

Heat moved his finger around, making sure he didn't miss something. Freja made a noise in her sleep. He couldn't tell what sort of noise it was. It had't occurred to him that he might be hurting her, so he quickly retracted his finger just in case. He observed the fluid clinging to it, clear and just a little bit sticky. It had a sort of sweet musk. He gave it a tentative lick. It didn't taste bad. Then he tasted the fluid that leaked from the tip of his own thing. It was definitely different.

"Heat?" A sleepy voice came from Freja. "What's wrong?" Freja blinked sleep from her eyes, not startled by Heat, but noticing he had a... growing problem. They knew one day they would most likely have to help teach him about these things. "Oh, my sweet, do you need help?"

"It just happened." Heat seemed bashful. "I couldn't sleep because of the storm and I came in here. Then I was feeling how soft your skin was and trying to find your dangling thing and it just happened."

Freja noticed how both of your nighties were pushed up. She knew that he wasn't purposefully doing anything nefarious, just exploring. She nodded understanding.

"Let me help you with that and we can go back to sleep, yeah?"

Heat nodded.

Freja touched him experimentally. They did very well on him, she had to say. It took both hands to fully sheath him. She spit onto his shaft and jerked him off, showing him how to do it with his own hand.

"You can do this if it happens again. That feel good?"

"Mhm."

"There are other ways, but this is for when you're by yourself."

"What about the other ways?"

Freja laughed. "You want me to show you?"

Heat nodded.

Freja moved his hand away and took him in her mouth. She hummed an amused response when he let out a squeak of surprise. He wasn't expecting that the mouth was one of the ways. Freja covered him with saliva and used it as lube, putting her hand at the base of his erection and jerking off the portion she couldn't reach with her mouth. Again, she hummed her satisfaction with the member they procured for him. Freja bobbed her head up and down in time with her fist, reducing Heat to a confused bundle of sighs and moans.

"S-something's happening." Heat pushed Freja off his cock, worried about his body doing something strange. He didn't want to hurt her.

She attempted to slap his hand away, knowing full well what the "something" was, however he was very strong. As soon as her lips left him, he came, spurting white, viscous cum onto her nightie. Her hand was still around him and she worked him through his orgasm unit his dick stopped twitching.

Seeing the look of confusion on his face, Freja reassured him, "That's normal."

"That felt really... good."

Freja yanked off the dirty nightgown and tossed it to the floor.

"Is there... Is there a way I can do that for you?" He was momentarily captivated by her naked form revealed.

Freja quirked a brow. "There is."

"Can you... show me? I want to return the favor."

Freja thought for a moment. "I think it might be easier for me to demonstrate than for me to teach you on myself."

Freja wasn't going back to sleep now. She was plenty awake. She may as well make you just as awake as she was. It's only fair that way. She moved to your feet, carefully parting them to make room for herself between them.

"Watch what I do." Freja added, "Also, you should never do any of this to people while they're sleeping, unless you've agreed upon it beforehand. And we have."

Freja laid on her stomach and curled her arms underneath your thighs. She adjusted herself until she was comfortable, then she licked a fat stripe up the center of your pussy. Freja buried her face between your legs, slipping her tongue between your folds and swirling it over your clit. She made sure to point out to Heat where it was and explained that it was the most important part to pay attention to.

Heat watched her intently, fascinated by the way she made you twitch and moan while you slept. There were some noises that sounded a bit like you were in pain, but Freja reassured him that they were positive sounds. Heat was particularly interested when Freja added her fingers. It didn't hurt after all. In fact, it seemed the opposite was true. Her fingers pulled the moans from you more readily, until it seemed like you were shaking. Then, with one last cry of pleasure, your eyelids fluttered open and your back arched into the mattress.

When your orgasm subsided and you shook the sleep from your body, you finally noticed Heat in the bed with you. You were expecting it eventually, even looking forward to it.

"I was showing Heat how to give pleasure to a woman," Freja explained. She also recapped the prior events.

"Hm. I see."

"Can I try it?" Heat asked.

You and Freja exchanged a glance.

"Let's show Freja some love, hm? It's her turn."

Heat mimicked everything that Freja had done on you, very pleased with himself when Freja started to give him some feedback via moaning. You removed your own nightie and joined in, playing with her breasts. You took one of Heat's hands and placed it onto a breast, guiding him to squeeze and massage it, and give attention to the nipples. You coached him through it, telling him all the ways to make Freja unravel. He caught on quickly. Soon he didn't need any help and you could sit back, watch, and play with yourself. You didn't miss the way Heat's eyes flicked between what he was doing and what you were doing. And you definitely didn't miss the way his marvelous cock was getting hard again.

As Freja came, Heat lapped up everything she gave him. It was instinct you supposed. He wiped his face off on his shoulder, then became acutely aware of his own erection.

"Why did it happen again?"

"Did you like what you were doing? What you saw?" You asked.

Heat nodded.

"That's why."

Heat looked at Freja with pleading eyes, like he wanted her to "help" him again.

Freja smirked. "Let's do something else this time."

Freja and yourself had Heat on his back and stripped of his pants. You positioned yourself on top of him and stroked him, appreciating his size. You grinned. Freja and yourself did pretty well putting him together. You were proud of your work.

"What are you doing?" Heat appeared confused.

"I'm going to ride you, which is when I put your penis in my vagina and I sit on top," you pointed to the appropriate parts as they were mentioned. It was less than sexy to put it that way, but this was educational, not recreational.

"That's... not going to fit."

You laughed. "It will."

"Will it hurt?"

"No. But if you ever want to stop just say so."

Heat nodded.

Briefly, you took him into your mouth, lubricating him with saliva. Then you positioned yourself over him, guiding his cock into you slowly. Heat reflexively grabbed your hips when his cock pushed into your cunt, sharply inhaling and grunting. It was a tight fit, but his length disappeared completely after some work at it.

You moved your hips, slowly gyrating them at first so he could get used to the feeling. Then you transitioned to working him up and down. He used his grip on your hips to help you. You also let him set the pace. This wasn't so much about you getting off as it was Heat learning, so you wanted him to get the pleasure he desired from it. You bent down to kiss his chest, moving up his neck, and then to his lips.

"I thought you said kisses on the mouth were for romance," Heat questioned.

"They're not exclusive to it." You explained. "And many people reserve sex for romance as well, but you don't have to love someone romantically, or even at all, to have sex with them."

"But-"

You put a finger over his lips. "Ask me later, big guy. Let us help you feel good."

"C-can you do it again? The... kiss?"

You grinned, planting another kiss on his lips. You continued to ride him, waiting for him to moan so you could slip your tongue into his mouth. He made a surprised squeak but tried to mirror what you were doing. When you came up for air, Freja didn't let him rest, moving in to have a taste of his lips for herself. One of his hands left your hips to tangle into her hair and pull her in. You bounced on him faster, grinding your hips down onto him periodically. The string of whines that Freja devoured from his mouth was a reassurance that he was enjoying himself.

"It's- that thing- is happening again," Heat whined.

"That's okay. Let it happen." Freja cooed.

Heat panted heavily, letting out a long groan, eyes clenched shut. "It's- It's-"

"Good boy. Let it out."

Heat's expression changed into one of pleasure. He threw his head back and gave in, letting the feeling permeate his body. The hand that remained on your hip had you in a bruising grip as his dick twitched inside you, releasing ropes of cum. His whines and grunts subsided and he was left panting.

You pulled yourself from him and lay beside him on the opposite side as Freja. Both of you peppered him with tender kisses, relaxing into his side. He appeared dazed, maybe lost in thought.

"Was that okay?" You wanted to know what he was thinking.

Heat nodded. "When can we do that again?"

Freja answered, "Whenever you want, big guy."

That day was spent teaching Heat about different positions and techniques. You and Freja took turns, tagging out when each of you was tired. Heat, on the other hand, seemed to have boundless energy, and cum. He wasn't even particularly horny. It seemed like he was just trying to learn. It was the same reason he liked books so much. He wanted to learn everything there was to being human. The next few days, he insisted on practicing, not giving up until he could make each of you cum. The next few weeks, well, that wasn't simply learning or practicing. They had created a monster... figuratively. Of course they didn't think of him as such in a literal sense. In fact, he rarely slept in his own bed anymore, preferring to be with the two of you, even if sex wasn't involved. He craved touch and affection. It made him feel like less of a monster.

_______________________________________________

In the next few weeks, there was an increasing number of people trespassing on your property, sometimes with torches or pitchforks, raving about the "creature" and his crimes. Heat hadn't left the vicinity since that one and only trip to town, so neither you nor Freja had any idea what they were referring to. Freja had planned on going to town soon anyway for a few items, so she would investigate.

While she was away, you had Heat up on a table in your lab. It been some time since you created him, and everything seemed to be going smoothly. It was diligent, however, to make sure. You didn't want him to suddenly fall apart or anything. Carefully you inspected all his sutures. Nothing was amiss.

"Looks like everything is fine. Does anything hurt or bother you?"

"No," Heat replied.

"Do you feel okay in general?"

"Yes..." Heat hesitated.

"What is it?"

"Do you remember when you were explaining the differences in love?"

"I do."

"I think I understand now." Heat sat up and shifted his gaze to you. "Whenever I'm with you a-and Freja, I feel normal, human. My heart beats faster when I think about you. When Freja left, it made me sad to watch her leave, even though I know she'll come back. It feels right when I have you both in my arms."

You smiled warmly at him. "I agree. I think you understand now."

Even sitting on the exam table he was taller than you. Heat put his hand on your cheek and bent down, hesitating only to make sure you didn't pull away before gingerly placing his lips against your own. You returned the kiss, deepening it, letting him slide his tongue in to tangle with yours. It was fair to say that you and Freja both felt the same way for him. It was hard not to when that's what he was created for. It wasn't just that though. He was smart and kind and thoughtful. Whenever he went for walks, he would bring back a little wildflower for both of you. He learned how each of you liked your coffee or tea so he could bring it to you in bed. He even took care of you and Freja after long romps in the sheets, without either of you teaching him to. He was perfect.

Heat switched places with you, lifting you to sit on the exam table. His hands slid under your skirts and found your bloomers, which he promptly took off. He kissed your neck.

"You're so soft," he mumbled. "Not like me."

You traced the scars on Heat's face. "I don't want you to be like me. I want you to be you: perfect." You kissed every scar you could reach from your position. "Do you hear me? You're perfect."

"I am glad you think so."

"It's true."

Your lips met again and Heat's hand traveled to your hip, where he kneaded the plush flesh there. His other hand was at the back of your neck, pulling you into him, like he couldn't get enough of your taste. Heat pulled your hips to the edge of the table and pushed your skirts up to expose you. Your legs trapped his waist and pulled him into you, while your hands blindly searched for the ties to his pants, unwillingly to break the kiss to figure it out with your vision. You could feel the swelling within their confines, which soon sprung free into your hand. Heat's hand moved to cup your sex before slipping two fingers into you. He made a few experimental pumps, testing your wetness. Satisfied, he spread your slick down his shaft and positioned the head at your entrance. You signaled your urgent need to have him by tightening your legs around him, forcing him forward. Heat needed no other encouragement, sheathing himself inside you in one motion.

"Ngh, oh, fuck," you moaned.

"I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"No, on the contrary, it feels good. Very good."

"I never want to hurt you," he breathed, leaning in.

"You won't."

You closed the distance and covered his mouth with your own again. Your lips and his couldn't be apart for long. They always came back together, sharing the same breaths. Grabbing hands wandered, tugging, pulling, and gripping, desperate to force your bodies as close together as possible. Eager hips rutted together as if they were trying to meld into one body. You needed him to feel how much you cared for him. It was like you wanted to pour your love on thick, a shield that would protect him from the unwarranted hatred he felt from the village.

"I love you, Heat." You buried your face into his neck.

He waited for you to look at him before he replied. "I love you, too." He wanted to look into your eyes.

Heat lowered you down until your back was to the table and he was bent over you. His fingers intertwined with your own as he held your hands against the cold steel. Your moans echoed from the walls to the tall ceiling. This feeling was intoxicating. You wanted to be enveloped in this moment forever. Your kisses became sloppier and your moans more frequent as you began to unravel. Your back arched off the table. Heat's thrusts became more fervent, trying to push you over the edge without pushing himself first.

The wave of pleasure washed over you not long after. You cried out and your thighs nearly crushed the air from Heat's lungs with how hard they squeezed around him. Heat pressed his face into your shoulder and groaned as his own release followed yours, unable to resist your wet, gummy walls fluttering around him. You were both still, swimming in your shared orgasm, as you recovered.

"Well. It looks like I'll be disinfecting this room," Freja sighed from the doorway.

You jumped, only because you hadn't heard her come in, not because Heat was draped over you, still balls deep and you were ashamed about it or anything.

"Oh, you're back! That was fast," you remarked.

"I've been gone for hours."

"Really?" You looked at Heat bashfully, as if asking confirmation.

"It's been quite a while, my flower." He kissed you tenderly on the forehead before straightening himself up.

You sat up and pushed your dress back down. "How long have you been watching for?"

"Too long." Freja rolled her eyes. "But... I love you both, too."

After cleaning up, you and Heat joined Freja in one of the common rooms. Freja handed Heat a small parcel containing another book from town, something she picked up while investigating what was going on in town. He flipped through the pages while you two talked, eyes flicking up to listen every so often. Freja had gotten some information from Nan and had found out that livestock had started disappearing weeks ago. More recently, people had mysteriously stopped coming home after venturing into the outskirts of town, but only at night. Even more disturbing was that they had recovered one of these missing folks, and they looked as if they had been dehydrated, not simply a lack of water, but nearly reduced to dust. The skin of the deceased crumbled when they tried to bring the corpse back to the village. People were afraid to leave their homes after dark.

Naturally, the village turned on Heat, the "monster", the first scapegoat they could come up with. For a while, they had forgotten about the strange construct that lived in the strange laboratory on the edge of town. Unfortunately, they remembered him very quickly once this mystery materialized.

As Freja was talking, Heat became more and more fidgety. He felt guilty that the two of you were worrying about him when he was the cause of your problems. It was only a matter of time before the villagers did something drastic. They were already emboldened enough to come to your front door with violent intent. While you and Freja discussed how they were going to handle the inevitable influx of angry villagers, Heat was already drafting a goodbye letter in his head.

For the first time in a long time, Heat didn't spend the night crammed between the two of you, and in the morning it became clear why. A very neatly written letter was left where you were sure to find it. In it, Heat apologized for being a burden, and he apologized for leaving like this, but he wanted to protect the two of you from the anger of the village. There was no doubt that both of you were devastated. If you could only have made him feel more secure, then maybe he would have stayed. Even the constant reassurance that has was loved and wanted wasn't enough.

For weeks, Freja and yourself had searched the surrounding areas for signs he had been there. It was harder to search near the village. The people were aware of your connection to Heat. The last thing you wanted to do was accidentally lead them to him before you could find him and bring him to safety. Every day that passed was tougher for the two of you. There was less hope that you would find him. He may have gone on to the next town, or even the one after that by this point.

This night, you and Freja ventured further out than you had before, not noticing the fast fading light. The lantern's low golden light was enough to see the path home, but not much else. Every so often, a branch would snap and startle you both. The forest was eerily devoid of noise. Even the crickets were silent. Without admitting fear, you both walked faster. An inky black shape moved into the path in front of you, stopping you in your tracks. It was taller than any man, even Heat, that you had seen.

"Beg pardon, sir. We are retiring to our home this evening and would like to get by."

The figure stepped closer to your light, illuminating his large stature further. He had dusky skin and jet-black hair. His facial hair was groomed into sharp points that were aimed at his mouth, nearly as sharp as the teeth inside aforementioned mouth.

"All alone this evening, ladies?"

"Not that it's your business, but we're looking for a friend," Freja said, narrowing her eyes.

"What sort of friend?"

"Tall, scarred, has peculiarly colored hair and inexplicably sad eyes," you answered.

An odd expression crossed his features for a moment.

"I see." The man stepped forward again. "And if I find such a man, what shall I tell him?"

"That he is dearly missed and to come home."

The man stopped walking as he was about to pass you, running a sharp nail through the brooch of flowers that you were wearing. "Pretty flowers. Do you know what they are?"

"No. These were the last flowers our friend gave us before he left." There was a hint of sadness in you voice as a few dried petals broke and drifted to the ground. You swallowed. The man was giving you a bad feeling.

"Wild garlic." The man mused. He continued walking, now behind you, and added, "They can save your life, you know." The man walked on without an explanation.

Neither you nor Freja had ever run so fast back to your home. You swore that man had red eyes. When you went to bed that night, you kept those flowers close. You hadn't noticed, but Freja had seen the man hiss as he touched the brooch. Neither of you slept well. What if Heat has succumbed to whatever thing was killing villagers? What if you had narrowly escaped it tonight?

The next day, Freja suggested venturing further out towards the next town. The encounter the night before had shaken you both, causing you to worry more about Heat's safety. You hadn't gone that far before, mostly because it was at least an entire day's journey to the next town and neither of you wanted to spend the night there in case Heat came back home while you were away. By the time you were almost there, the sun was already sinking, and both of you had dwindling energy. As you crested one of the larger hills, a building you hadn't seen before came into view. It was a small, but looming castle. It looked abandoned if not for the smoke tendrils reaching out of the chimney.

Approaching cautiously, you gradually made your way to the intimidating building. Shadows grew as the sun sank under the tree line. There was still light, though thin. Curiously, the windows seemed to be boarded up. A sliver of light shone through a small gap in one of them. Someone was home. Neither of you wanted to be here after dark, and people were known to be kind to travelers around here. Before knocking at the front door, you decided that a peek through the window would be appropriate. What if it turned out the murderer lived there, or the strange man from last night? The best case scenario was that Heat would be there. Maybe he sought refuge here. Unfortunately, the gap in the window was slightly too high for either of you to see into. It was decided that Freja, as the more petite of you, would sit on your shoulders in order to get a good view.

"What do you see?" You asked.

"Nothing yet. It doesn't look abandoned inside. The furnishings are quite nice. Looks like someone's bedchamber."

"What else?"

"Shh. I heard footsteps I think," Freja whispered.

You stumbled, causing Freja to lose visual for a few seconds. When you recovered and she was able to see, she gasped.

"What?!" You shout-whispered.

"It's him! And he's- oh my god he's biting someone. There's blood!"

"Who! Who is him!?"

"The tall stranger." Freja gasped again. "And the someone- the someone-" Freja choked back a sob. "It's Heat! It's our Heat."

"What's happening? Is he okay? How much blood?"

"It's not that much and- oh he's smiling? I don't understand." Freja's voice cracked. "What's going on? They're- oh. OH!"

"What!? Let me see!" You were impatient and Freja was being less than revealing.

"They're naked."

"Huh?"

"They're- yeah they're naked." Freja covered her, now dry, eyes. "Oh my!" She peeked through her fingers. "Our boy is- well, we taught him quite adequately."

You managed to switch places with Freja, just in time to see Heat going down on, sure enough, the stranger from the night previous.

"Oh heavens, he's swallowing that thing whole. Good for him," you remarked. "It's the size of a small child. Seems we didn't get the best of the best after all."

"That's what you're concerned about right now?"

"Shut up! I'm just saying!"

Your voice was a few decibels too loud and when you next looked, there were red eyes locked on yours. You made a squeak of fright and fainted, promptly throwing Freja off-balance and sending you both toppling. Freja rolled down the hill a bit, hitting her head on a log. Thus, you were both incapacitated.

_______________________________________________

When you woke up, you had forgotten what had happened, only remembering the events when you looked around and saw you were not in your own room. Freja was in a separate bed and had also woken up. A tall, lean-muscled woman in a maid's uniform was pouring tea. When she noticed you, she smiled.

"You're awake? I'll let the master know." She introduced herself as Brigette and hurried away.

Shortly after, the strange man appeared, followed by Heat.

"Heat!" You exclaimed. "We were dreadfully worried about you. What happened? I'm glad you seem to be okay."

"Might I explain?" The stranger spoke. "Let me start with an introduction. My name is Wire."

"You're the creep from the other night!" Freja accused.

"Yes- well, no, I'm not a creep."

The man, Wire, went on to explain that he had come across Heat the very same night that Heat had left. This man was a fabled vampire, and he had meant to attack Heat, but was caught off-guard by his interesting flavor, no doubt due to the mix of various parts he was created from. Heat, being the good little student of science that he was, explained what he was to the man, hoping to enlighten the man's palette. Yet, it intrigued the man. He wanted to know more. Heat had told him of his life thus far and confessed to him that he was leaving the village because of these strange happenings, in order to protect his loved ones. Wire felt somewhat guilty about being the cause of that.

Over the next few weeks they had bonded. They were both "monsters" misunderstood by people. Heat was misunderstood anyway. Wire was an unapologetic blood thief. The night that Wire had met you two, he knew that you were the love ones Heat referred to. He had told Heat about meeting you and Heat was torn. He missed you both fiercely, but he had also found something new with someone who understood him like no other. Still, he thought you deserved closure, and had planned on seeing you one last time. It turned out you would show up right on his doorstep, worse actually, as Peeping Penelopes.

"I'm sorry that I left. I didn't know what else to do," Heat was conflicted.

"Heat, we're just happy that you're okay," Freja opened her arms for a hug.

Heat hugged her and came to embrace you as well. "I found someone that I don't want to let go of."

"Oh, Heat." You kissed him on the cheek. "I'm happy for you." You bit your lip. "I don't want to make this difficult for you. As much as we adore you, you don't have to come back with us. You are free to make your own choices."

"About that." Heat glanced at Wire.

"None of you are going back." Wire stood in the doorway.

Freja and yourself exchanged a troubled glance. He was holding you against your will? He was going to eat you. That must be it. You had seen too much.

"You need to work on your delivery, love." Heat grinned at the tall gentleman. "I hate to be the one to tell you, but last night, we could see from the hilltop that our old home was aflame. It was good timing that you had left when you did. The village finally came for us." Heat hated to think that even without him there, you had been in danger. "What Wire meant to say, was that you are welcome to stay here. In fact, I want you to stay. Even if our home hadn't burned, I would want you to stay."

Wire nodded in support.

"I have a few questions." You squinted at Wire.

Freja interjected. "Do not ask about his hog."

"I have considerably less questions. Zero, in fact," you stated definitively.

It was awkward at first, maneuvering around the various relationships. You wanted to be respectful of Heat and Wire, yet you and Freja both missed your third partner. It wasn't an issue for long. Heat reassured you that you could do as you liked. Wire hardly minded sharing, and he even indulged your hog wrestling fantasies. Heat and Freja thoroughly enjoyed the show, too.

In the end, most of the townsfolk succumbed to terminal anemia. They deserved whatever came to them. The only exception was Nan. Wire was forbidden to touch Nan, the only person that treated Heat with kindness. The other condition was that when he went to town, he had to bring you two along so you could say hi. Brigette, who drove the carriage to town, took a liking to Nan as well, so the four of you hung out during these excursions. The bar was usually loud enough to cover up any screams anyway.

[beelmons]

...uh oh. i may need to politely request this fic:

https://www.tumblr.com/beelmons/727110653210394624/i-feel-this-i-feel-like-spencer-would-only-use

spencer always calls reid by her name and reader is worried that means he doesnt like her as much as she likes him. and poor spencer is just oblivious as to was this matters 😭

It's fine, it's fine.

That's what you kept telling yourself. It's fine that Hotch calls his wife "honey". It's fine that Jennifer gets to be "sweetheart". It's fine that Penelope becomes "baby girl" despite not having any sort of relationship to Morgan whatsoever.

You don't need a pet name from your boyfriend, of course not. No "baby", that's weird, or "angel", that's cringe.

As you were sitting on the couch, sulking about the fact that it clearly annoyed you that Spencer would call you by your name instead of a cutesy petname made up by the two of you, you heard him call from the kitchen.

Once more, using your goddamn name.

"Okay, enough!" you finally blurted out, much to his utter surprise.

"Wha-" he tried to question in an attempt to get to the bottom of your sudden outburst.

"Don't call me by my name anymore, Spencer!" as you were yelling, you had to stand up and walk to the kitchen, where the poor man was holding a milk carton and looking astounded.

It had been a rather domestic day. Cleaning in your underwear, chilling by the couch. He had gotten up from your spot to grab some milk and cookies as an afternoon snack, and had called up on you when he couldn't find said cookies.

Now he was standing in the middle of his kitchen area, trousers and simple startrek t-shirt on, milk in hand, and a yelling girlfriend on his face.

"What's wrong with your name?" he asked with genuine curiosity

"Nothing is wrong with it, but that's not something to call your girlfriend of two years!" you yelled, your tone clearly getting higher.

"Is it not?" he asked once more. Despite his obliviousness seeming feigned to you, it was real to his core.

"I- You're-" you tried to fight back the need to strangle him, figure of speech, of course. Instead, you grunted and pushed on your temples.

However dreamy and kind, your boyfriend was, nonetheless, a man.

Exhasperation took over you over the lack of understanding on the severity of the situation and you knew better than to let yourself talk to him in that state. A resumé of fights and disputes being created by that same reason throughout the time you'd been together. You stomped your way back to the couch, where you simply decided to sit angrily with your arms over your chest.

The silence dragged out for quite a bit while the wheels in his head turned for a way out of this situation. Man, catching a killer was easier than walking through the eggshells you sometimes put out.

"Cinnamon." he simply said. You didn't answer, thinking that he was reciting to himself what he needed now. "That's what your name tastes like on my tongue." he added.

Finally, he earned a look back from you.

Spencer opened the fridge and put back the milk, an object that had lost several degrees of importance in the past few minutes, and walked over to you, taking a seat beside you on the couch and holding one of your hands into his. His touch was gentle, featherlight and quite fearful.

"I think it's due to the fact that I was tasting Penelope's coffee order when you were introduced to me." he continued "I'm sorry if I've come off as insensitive for not calling you a pet name but I had never felt the need for it. I love your name, I think it's a wonderful sound to emit."

It was now time for dialogue, no matter how uncomfortable it made you.

"Well, to me, it feels like you're calling out a friend. Someone who isn't special or remarkable in your life." you explained, your initial defense lowered, thus permiting you to express your insecurities fully.

You saw him make that stupid, adorable confusion face that he usually made. When he was trying hard to find the words to express a feeling he had never experienced before.

"I'm sorry." he simply put out for a second, hence igniting back a bit of your anger "But you see, it's not only the way it feels on my tongue. My heart, it races to levels I don't think are healthy whenever I hear it. My skin, it crawls with anticipation when it appears on my phone screen." he added "Your name is unique no matter how many people on this earth share it with you, and I could probably tell you how many exactly are there but I doubt you want to hear it right now." he had to clear his throat for a second "To me your name holds no other meaning but the one of pure love and happiness, so, to you it might appear I'm calling on to someone random but to me..." Spencer had to pause to put his head in order "...feels like I'm calling home."

You didn't realize your grip had tightened on his hand. Your eyes locked as he spoke had grown a couple of tears along the way. You were pulled, tentatively, into your boyfriend's arms, and there you remained for more minutes than you could have counted.

It's fine. Just your name is fine, as long as it's from his lips.

[gravity-falls-fanatic89]

November's Naughty and Nice Stories

Day 7: Coffee Date

Stan x Reader fluff

Some language!

It was chilly and overcast as Stan drove the car into Gravity Falls, wanting to take you out, and show you off, enjoying your company.

He parked the car, and you two walked in and out of the little shops on the main street, him with his arm around you while you rested your head on his chest as you browsed together. He was all dressed up, wearing his tan suit and red dress shirt just so. He didn't have his fez today, and you couldn't help but keep admiring him, all while he was doing so in turn to you.

"Stan, could we go look in the book store? I wanted to see if they had anything new I could pick up...I just finished the last one Ford suggested on urban legends," and you laughed a little. "He said it should have honestly been in the non-fiction section, but people never learn."

"You can go ahead, babe...I was goin' to go down to the dry cleaners and see if they got my shirts done....Don't tell Ford, but I snuck a bunch of his sweaters in because they were reekin'," and he gave you a peck on the head, and then a longer kiss before you parted.

"I'll meet you back here in a half hour, hon. Love you."

"Love you too....And take your time. I'll be around. I know how ya get in there. I might just end up sleeping in the car waitin'!" And he walked down the street, as you stepped in the shop.

It was mostly books, but it had other things, like DVDs, CDs, and other media stuff, but you knew what you were getting. You ordered it months ago, and it finally showed up for you. But, you took some time, and browsed for a bit, picking up a couple books, some postcards for Stan's great nephew and great niece, and finally, your order.

You stepped outside, and looked around, noticing Stan on one of the benches nearby, and you snuck up on him, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Hey gorgeous," he said, smiling, and then pulling his arm around to you. There were two dozens roses greeting you in turn.

"Stanley! You didn't need to get those! Oh, they're beautiful! Wait, you didn't steal them, did you?" and you gave him an eyebrow look.

"No, I didn't, but I shoulda! The florist are the real thieves in this town!" he retorted. "But ya like 'em?"

"Yes, yes I do. Thank you, and I love you."

"Love ya too, babe. Now let's go get some coffee. It looks like the sky is going to open up on us."

You booked it to the coffee shop before the ominous sky opened up, and picked a quiet little corner booth near the window, sipping coffee together, avoiding the gawkers. People still weren't used to seeing Stan Pines, the miser in the Shack, married to someone that apparently "was out of his league" and "too nice for him", even if it had been over 2 years. But you just didn't care. You were in your mid 40s, and him in his early 60s. You've done nothing wrong.

"This is nice just kinda being away from everyone...Sorry these assholes still give ya looks about me," Stan said apologetically.

"Stanley Pines, you know I don't give a shit what they all think...You make me happy, and I hope I make you happy."

He smiled a small grin, but you could read his face still felt bad. He went into these bouts where he still had lingering thoughts you shouldn't be together. He didn't talk much about it, but at the same time, you knew he felt like you could do better. You couldn't see that though. You nuzzled deep into his jacket, and looked up at him, kissing his neck in a gentle manner.

"I love the roses. They are gorgeous. I love who you are. And I love this life with you," you whispered into his ear.

"Christ, hon," he rubbed his eyes. "There's a ton of dust in here....And I love ya too. More than you'll ever know. Thanks for stickin' it out with me. I ain't much, but I'm more with ya in my life."

You squeezed him, and remembered. "Hey, actually, I was in the bookstore, and got you something!"

"Huh, I don't read much, sweetheart, you know that. That's more of Ford's nerd thing."

"Just take it."

It was a little wrapped package that he opened, and when he pulled it from the paper, his mouth dropped.

"Y/N, you....How did you know? I mean, shit, I...uh..."

He held up the copy of The Duchess Approves, the Golden Edition, and you saw tears slowly come out from his eyes. "Thank you." He whispered into your forehead, kissing it hard.

"It's the "Super Boring Extended Edition" too! It's got behind the scenes of that one guy that plays Count Lionel giving his last interview at the hospital before his hair replacement surgery botched....And a mini documentary on the costumes...And..."

"I love it, hon. I didn't know you knew nothin' about my, uh, 'guilty pleasure'."

"Eh, Ford told me about it, and I've been searching for months since it was out of print. But, I'd love to watch it with you, if you would like me to."

Stan looked outside, and you both hadn't realized it had become a torrential downpour, and most everyone had left.

"We can later...For now, I just wanna sit with the most wonderful wife in the world," and you kissed each other deep, and watched the rain fall peacefully.

[terpia]

Apologies for the bummer, too personal post, but just because I need to vent (if that's even the right word here) -

What is it about the death of immediate family members that feels so unreal? My stepfather died unexpectedly this weekend, and even though I have fully internalised that on an intellectual level, on an emotional level it hasn't hit me at all yet. Same happened when my grandma died, it felt like it took my heart months to actually catch up to what happened.

[tvrningout-a]

i know that bc i'm tired and hurting, what i'm feeling is amplified, but i just want y'all to know that i'm not trying to avoid talking to anyone ooc. i really wanted today to focus on messages and plots, if i'm honest! but there's certain things going on right now that are kinda taking everything out of me, and it's just so much easier to make a post and maybe reply to a comment -- even those i haven't been great about. but i promise it's not intentional, and more than likely, i'm excited to talk!! i also just feel very exhausted and funky mentally atm. reaching out or replying to messages seems so daunting when i feel like this.

if you're currently waiting on me, thank you for being patient with me, and i'm sorry to make you wait. these moments always pass, so this one will, too! but i'm sorry if it at all feels like i'm ignoring you in the meantime or like i'm hard to connect with.

[umbracirrus]

God some people are just miserable. Can't people just enjoy something for the sake of enjoying it?

[blackbirdffxiv]

(non-XIV, kinda personal venting below I apologize, nothing serious)

So I have a love-hate relationship with social media; I don't mind using it, but I hate how some arbitrary posts that I find come across my feed somehow, whether its tumblr or twitter, but there's one in particular that has bugged me since I saw it.

So I use Ao3 to post my fics from other fandoms, I don't show it on tumblr because I'm not confident enough in my writing to post it in a way where people can put a "face" (digital or otherwise) to my writing because it makes it easier for trolls and rude people to find me. Not the point.

I use Ao3 a lot these days; I read a lot on there. I always give kudos to things I like cuz I like it when someone leaves one on my writings. It gives the happy brain chemicals, and makes all the headaches I had while writing worth it, and makes me happy that despite my lackluster style, people enjoy it.

But a few months ago, I saw this arbitrary tweet about how someone believed that a fic is only considered "adequate" (not their words from the best of my memory, this is based on what I remember) or good to them if there was at least 1 kudos for every 10 views. And for a lot of my more recent works, especially the SFW things, I'm lucky to get double digits with 300 views on the fic.

And now I can't help but think my writing may be bad because its not getting the reception I thought it would. I know, "write for you not for others" but you can't deny it sucks when people don't enjoy your work, or the ones who do don't show they liked it in some way shape or form.

[pseudowho]

You hadn't heard Kento arrive home, but moved from garden to living room like a moth to the flame, when you heard the telltale clink-clink of him removing his harness.

You sidled up behind him, a tease in your voice, dragging one languid finger down his spine.

"What's a guy like you, doing in a place like this, huh?"

A low chuckle. "I'm sure I'm meant to be here."

You bit your lip. "Me too. It must be fate. Does your wife know you're here, Mr...?"

"Nanami. And I certainly hope she does."

You weaved your way round to face him, now, sliding your hands from broad chest to shoulders, all peaks and valleys of stone.

"And what would she say," you whispered, circling one fingertip over his chest until he shivered, lifting one knee to brace against his hip, "if she knew there was someone like me, here?" Kento looked down at you, honey-rich eyes narrowing, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"That's what you want, is it?" He whispered back, low voice barely audible in the moonlight-flood living room. "A little...roleplay?" Your eyes glimmered at him in confirmation, and he chuckled. "Alright, then." You felt yourself tremble with anticipation.

Abrupt and firm, his smile replaced by a scowl, Kento removed your leg from his hip.

"Get your hands off me."

You gawped at him. Kento stepped back, clearing his throat, and adjusting his tie, the wedding ring glinting on his finger.

"I'll excuse you, just once, but I'm a married man. Happily."

"Kento, I--"

"That's Mr.Nanami to you. I don't recall us ever meeting, and I don't enjoy such intimate familiarity with strangers."

"--you are just so--"

"I'm sorry for whatever has happened in your life, for you to have such little self-respect, or respect for others, that you have such ill-intent towards a married man--"

You withered onto the sofa under his cool tirade.

"--but I wish you all the best in your future endeavours, while I wait for my wife."

"You are a fucking nightmare--"

"And how did you get in my house? I'll give you ten seconds to leave, before I call the police--"

You screamed into a sofa cushion.

"--do you have somewhere safe to go? Are you hungry? Thirsty, certainly. I can pay for a taxi--"

You felt your soul leave your body.

"--I do hope we don't meet again--"

You laughed, humourless, face down in the pillow.

"-- good day to you."

Kento walked away to the bathroom, leaving you prone and mortified on the sofa. You heard the shower start to run. You lifted your head, shouting at him, furious in your laughter.

"Fuck you for being so fucking pure, Mr.Nanami! Your wife is a lucky woman!"

A deep laugh from the bathroom. "Yes, she is."

[theragethatisdesire]

scary dog privilege - best friend!eren x reader one-shot, 18+!!

hellooooo i have had this in my wips for like two entire months and i am giddy and ready to share it. this hopefully will just be a one-shot, but you guys know i love to create a universe for each of my erens so god only knows where we'll end up with this one. best friend eren appears to be my angstiest, broodiest one yet, and i love him lol. wanted to make some use of classic fanfic tropes, so here we get best friend eren and fake dating!! woohoo!!

beware: this is absolute, pure filth once you get into it lol

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol use, cussing, squirting, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, pretty baby, my girl), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a menace per usual, jean's an asshole (i'm so sorry you guys know i love him but it had to happen)

have fun ;)

-

This is a terrible idea, and it had been from the start. You know it and so does he, but you had insisted. Now that you’ve made your bed, you have to lay in it, you suppose. You press your forehead to the cold, tinted window of Eren’s ridiculous muscle car, ignoring the vibrations from the rock music he’s blaring and the consistent fluttering in your stomach, and think back to your conversation earlier that week.

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

“And what about after? When you run into Sasha at the coffee place or Armin after work? Did we just suddenly ‘break up’?” Eren scoffs, pushing past you to grab a Red Bull out of the fridge. You collapse into one of the barstools in his kitchen, having prepared yourself to accept defeat from the moment you posed the question.

“I just can’t face him alone,” you sigh, “it’s only been four months and Sasha told me he’s hooked up with not one, not two, but three girls already. I haven’t even had a drunken makeout at the bar.”

“So? Just because Jean’s been whoring around doesn’t mean you have anything to prove.” Eren's tone is thoroughly unimpressed as he pops the tab to his energy drink.

“You’re my best friend. I just need one tiny favor.”

“Who would even believe us? It’s not like it’s a huge party- we know everyone going.”

You cock an eyebrow. “How many times have Annie and Mikasa tried to con us into a double date? Connie’s been teasing us for years, not to mention the waiter at lunch the other day–”

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine. I’ll be your date for one night. But all of the explaining is up to you. And,” Eren takes a sip, leveling a glare at you over the top of the can, “I’m going on the record as saying that this is a bad idea.”

He may be reckless, arrogant, and a bit of a brat, but if Eren Jaeger is one thing consistently, he was right. You chance a glance at your “date”. He’s in his typical uniform: black hoodie, black jeans, the little silver chain he never takes off, key swinging over his chest as he turns the car. He looks good, appealing even. If Jean dares to show up with a girl, she won’t consider you to have downgraded, that’s for sure.

You consider your own outfit, an anxious fist tightening in your stomach at the thought of seeing Jean for the first time as an ex. He would have hated it. Your nothing-to-the-imagination outfit is all thanks to Sasha.

You had clued Sasha in on the plan; you hoped having one more agent in on your secret would help sell the act. Sasha had gone all out, lending you an incredibly low-cut black top and some black leather pants that would have caused at least a twenty-minute argument with Jean. Had he not dumped you, you remind yourself bitterly. Sasha had insisted you borrow her all-black outfit to match Eren’s typical attire “just to be cute”. In hindsight, her enthusiasm about this whole situation should have been a red flag, but you’ve already gotten everything lined up, and it’s too late for regret.

It’s far too late for hindsight, too; you’re already ten minutes into receiving the official girlfriend treatment from Eren. He had worn you down on picking you up, opening the car door, the works. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a bouquet of roses at this point. You can hear his obnoxious tone now: Even if you’re my fake girlfriend, you’re getting the full package. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Eren parallel parks smoothly on Armin’s quiet street, unusually busy with the buzz of a house party and lined with your friends’ cars. It’s Connie’s birthday, but Armin always hosts. It’s an unspoken rule at this point; you aren’t sure why he keeps volunteering, especially after Sasha had projectile vomited all over his bathroom at the last get-together, but again, dig your own grave and lie in it. You and Armin are in the same boat there.

When the car switches off, Eren takes a moment to consider you, wrapping and unwrapping his long fingers around the steering wheel, a nervous tic he’s had since high school. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, reaching for the door handle. Before you can wrap your hand around it, Eren leans over and pinches you harshly on the thigh. “Ow!”

“I open the door, remember?” Eren says, visibly annoyed.

You roll your eyes at him.“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“You think I’m going to be caught dead letting my ‘girlfriend’ open her own door? I have a reputation to uphold.”

You decide to bite back a snippy comment about the many girls who cried over Eren in college and cross your arms over your chest, pouting instead. “Fine.”

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

As naturally as if he had done it a hundred times, Eren slings his arm over your shoulders on the walk up towards the door; the weight of it, both physically and mentally, is heavier than you’re willing to acknowledge. When you catch sight of Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie peering through the window, a flutter of nerves erupts your stomach; you reach a hand up to play with Eren’s fingers, absentmindedly spinning one of his rings and trying to sell the look as best you can. “We better pull this off.”

“It’ll be fine, just follow my lead.” Eren pulls you closer, kissing your hairline. Goosebumps rise all over your body; not at the action itself, but how disturbingly easy the affection seems to come to him. As Eren knocks on Armin’s bright red door, you pack that thought away and shove it to the back of your mind to collect dust.

“Hi…guys?” Armin’s friendly smile upon opening the door falters in confusion as he takes you in, absorbing the sight of you two intertwined on his doorstep. Armin’s wide, blue eyes flick between the two of you, and you can see the gears churning in his head, trying to make sense of how awfully close you and Eren are. Pitting your fake relationship against Armin’s intellect is the perfect first test; a nervous sweat breaks out under your skimpy outfit.

“Sup, ‘min?” Eren smiles back, the very picture of nonchalance, extending his free hand to shake Armin’s shoulder.

“Come on in.” Armin, ever polite, turns to allow for plenty of room for Eren to pull you inside. He doesn’t outright ask why Eren’s holding you, but his eyes betray his suspicions. It seems like your plan, as terrible as it is, is working. One down, a dozen or so to go.

Never dropping his arm from around your shoulders, Eren steers you into the living room where one of Connie’s favorite bands is already blasting from the speakers. Annie and Mikasa are curled up together in Armin’s recliner, hands interlocked as usual; Sasha and Connie are positioned at Armin’s bar cart, violently shaking two cocktail shakers apiece; Reiner, Bertholdt, Marco, and Jean are on the couch, arguing over something sports-related. With a sinking stomach, you notice that there’s only one unoccupied seat left in the room.

“My two favorite lovebirds!” Sasha cries, abandoning her cocktail shakers and rushing over to give you a hug. Upon Sasha’s impact, Eren drops his arm and grabs your hand that’s closest to him as a substitute, never taking his hands off of you. His actions are pointed, purposeful; every pair of eyes in the room looks between the two of you in surprise. You can practically feel a hazel-tinted laser beam burning a hole into your forehead. “You guys are so late; honeymoon phase gotcha already?”

“Laying it on a little thick, Sash,” you whisper into Sasha’s ear, cheeks burning. To your chagrin, Eren only curls his mouth in response.

“What?” Connie frowns, still shaking his drinks. “How long has that been a thing?”

You pause, your heart nearly stopping. You should have made up a story, you realize, something to explain–

“Just a few weeks.” The still-strange weight of Eren’s arm around your shoulder returns, and his jade eyes rest on you, adoration beaming through his always-cool gaze. Against your will, butterflies start dancing in your stomach; apparently Eren’s quite the actor.

“Yeah,” you jump in, grateful for Eren’s lead, “we just wanted to feel it out before we told everyone, that’s all.”

“Sasha knew.” Mikasa raises a suspicious eyebrow. Annie smirks at the two of you, a knowing look on her face.

“It’s about time.” Marco appears from the kitchen with a huge bowl of tortilla chips in one hand and salsa in the other. “Good for you guys.”

You can’t help yourself, finally meeting Jean’s eyes. He’s openly scowling at you, which is to be expected; where Eren is a criminally smooth liar, Jean wears his heart on his sleeve. You recognize that face all too well: anger to mask heartbreak, the same face he wore when you used to fight. For the first time, it occurs to you how cruel this plan might be, how Jean might react to you moving on with a mutual friend. Guilt washes over you, cold and heavy.

“Thanks for giving me a heads-up before you moved in on my fucking girlfriend, Jaeger,” Jean snips, taking a long swallow of his beer.

The guilt drops away from you as quickly as your jaw; you’ve forgotten what a prick Jean can be. Eren has been slowly guiding you over to the singular remaining seat throughout the conversation, and after Jean’s comment, he tugs you down firmly onto his lap. He rubs a large palm over your thigh, a blatant gesture of ownership.

“Not your girlfriend anymore, Kirschstein.” You can hear the distinct note of pride ringing through his voice, hear the nasty look leveled at Jean without turning to face him. It’s been fifteen minutes of fake dating, car ride included, and you can already feel the friendship line blurring. Your head spins.

“Anyway,” Armin, ever the gracious host, interrupts, breaking the awkward tension that has settled over the room, “what bar does everyone want to head out to later? Connie gets the first pick, being the birthday boy.”

The conversation in the room picks back up into a familial bickering over the evening’s next destination. All of your friends have become accustomed to the occasional awkward moment over the years now that some of you have begun to couple up; Mikasa and Annie especially are notorious for bickering like an old married couple, no matter who’s around.

“I need a drink,” you murmur to Eren, moving to stand.

“Do you mind getting me one, babe? Don’t want to lose our seat.” Eren pecks you on the cheek, smiling up at you as if everything about your situation right now is normal, natural for him. Jean’s eyes follow you every step of the way, and your face burns.

Over the years you’ve been friends with him, it’s never been lost on you that Eren’s attractive, not after the dozens of women he ran through in his college years. Peeking over your shoulder now, however, feels like you’re seeing him for the first time, seeing him the way the world sees him. Heavy-set dark brows frame his bright eyes beautifully, his jaw’s grown sharp and severe, and his lips are soft and pouty, stretching into a wicked smirk with sharp canines. He had grown into a heartbreaker, and he’s your best friend and now fake boyfriend– you swat away your private admiration as soon as it comes, taking a deep breath to center yourself and rifling through the bar cart in a daze.

“Want me to make you one?” Sasha waves a bright red concoction under your nose. “Connie and I made them- it has three different types of liquor in it, and you can’t taste any of it!”

One sip of the tiny cocktail straw has your nose wrinkling in disgust. You’ve worked behind a bar since the day you turned twenty-one, and the drink Sasha’s offering you tastes like an overly-syruped nightmare. “Um…no, that’s okay Sash. I’ll probably just stick to beer.”

Connie sticks his tongue out at you. “Boring!”

Predictably, Sasha pouts. “Okay, but we’re definitely making you take a shot. We can chill it in the kitchen, want to help me get some ice?”

Holding up a bottle of tequila, she cocks her head toward the kitchen and wobbles her eyebrows madly. You almost laugh; anyone who can’t pick up on a hint from Sasha is walking around with earplugs and their eyes closed.

“Fine. Let me just grab Eren a beer, and I’ll meet you in there.”

“Ugh, couples,” Connie rolls his eyes, wandering over to fiddle with the dusty karaoke machine that Armin claims broke years ago. You’ve always been dubious as to the truth of that, but knowing your friends, you can’t blame him.

Opening the cooler, you smile to yourself; Armin remembered your favorite IPA from the brewery down the road and stocked the cooler accordingly, nestling a few Hazy Daze’s between Reiner and Bertholdt’s domestics. You pick your way through the haphazard seating arrangements back over to Eren, holding a cold Budweiser bottle towards him. He pauses in his conversation with Reiner, grabbing your hand that holds the beer and removing it from your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, brushing them over in a light kiss. He looks you up and down lecherously as he does it, a dangerous curve to his lips.

You return a weak half-smile, doing your best to not appear outwardly shaken by Eren’s behavior and keep the what the fuck? thoughts from showing plainly on your face. Eren waves you off to the kitchen with a light pat on your bottom, innocent as ever.

“How’s it going?” Sasha asks, safe now in the privacy of the kitchen. Her face is already full-flush with excitement and that awful cocktail she was sipping.

“I mean, it seems like everyone’s buying it. Jean looks pissed, though.”

“What were you expecting? He’s always thought Eren had a thing for you.”

“Everyone thinks Eren has a thing for me,” you roll your eyes, “at least it’s working in my favor now.”

Sasha fixes you with a glare, wobbling slightly. “If you don’t think Eren actually has a thing for you, you must be blind. Deaf, too.”

“Sasha–”

“I mean, even if you hadn’t told me, I would have fallen for it. Is it not, like, weird for you guys? That it’s just natural for you two to–” Sasha burps, interrupting herself, and giggles. “Just makes ya think.”

“Sasha!” Connie calls from the living room. “Let’s do Eye of the Tiger first!”

“Woo!” Sasha shouts, abandoning you and running into the room to take part in the newly-revived karaoke festivities.

You stand alone in the kitchen, shell-shocked by Sasha’s observations. The truly irritating thing is that she’s entirely right. Not only do Eren’s little kisses here and there, the constant touching, even the pet names come naturally, it almost feels…nice. It’s as easy for you to receive his affection as it is for him to give it. You peek around the corner, grimacing at Sasha and Connie’s amplified wailing, just wanting to look at him. Really look at him.

Kicked back, beer in hand and jacket thrown over the back of his chair, Eren oozes charisma. Even doing nothing but holding a conversation with Mikasa, the room gravitates around him. Jean’s angry glare never leaves him; Armin has switched to drinking Budweiser, even though you know he hates it; Annie’s nodding along with whatever Eren’s saying; even Sasha and Connie are angling their performance around him, alternating between singing together and holding their microphones towards him, trying to elicit a reaction. He has this undeniable magnetic force, one that you aren’t exempt from.

You’d met him nearly a decade ago, in high school, and initially couldn’t stand him. His hair-trigger temper had hardly cooled with age, and his ego had gotten unthinkably larger, but you grew to find both of them charming– to a degree. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, Eren was the one cleaning you up and getting you drunk after every bad breakup, introducing you to all of your favorite sports teams and lending you jerseys for the games; hell, he even read that smutty fairy fantasy series you’d been obsessed with in college. Had the man you attempted Star Wars marathons with until you both fell asleep really looked like that the entire time?

He catches your stare, beckoning you over with one long, crooked finger. As his girlfriend for the night, you have to obey, even though you would much rather roll your eyes at the cliche.

“Missed you,” he mumbles as you sit back on his lap, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“You too,” you respond accordingly, wrapping your arm lovingly around his shoulder. Eren’s eyes flit down to your cleavage, but knowing him, it’s impossible to discern if it’s part of the act, or Eren being himself.

His hands rest comfortably over the casing of your pants, one on your thigh and one on the small of your back, one thumb rubbing circles into your soft flesh. Reveling in the drag of his rings over your clothed body, you couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on your bare skin, on your throat, on your–

Surprising yourself at the dirty direction of your thoughts, you swallow your beer too quickly, coughing. Eren, who had coincidentally been taking a sip at the same time, laughs at you mid-sip, choking beside you and spraying beer out of his nose.

The entire room bursts into laughter; Eren regains his composure and joins in good-naturedly. You giggle along, relief coursing over your body. Sure, Eren might look a little extra handsome tonight and be a bit touchy because you asked him to, but he’s still Eren.

“They’re practically in sync already.” Hitch, Marco’s girlfriend who had apparently joined the party while Sasha and you were in the kitchen, rests her face on her hand dreamily.

“It’s a little freaky,” Annie observes with narrowed eyes, but the slight curve of her lip betrays her. Not only were they believing your little farce, but they were happy for you. That’s enough to make you flush a little, realizing how naturally everyone’s just accepted your fake relationship. Everyone but one person, at least.

Jean suddenly stands, ripping a beer from the cooler and storming into the kitchen. The laughter dies as quickly as it had come, everyone exchanging nervous looks.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Eren offers, nudging you off of his lap. You blanch.

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

“It’s fine,” Eren drops a soft peck on your forehead, walking away before you can stop him. You meet Mikasa’s eyes, wide and concerned. To everyone else, Eren’s walking calmly, not a hint of aggression in his gait. But you know him, know him well enough to catch the anger simmering in his eyes, quiet, but there.

Jean and Eren have always been friends, albeit reluctant ones at first, but too similar where it counted not to get along. That had abruptly come to a halt when you had fallen for Jean. At first Eren had been confused, but over time that confusion had melted into constant irritation. Jean and you were wrong for one another, you know that in hindsight, but at the time, you had chalked all the fighting up to a passionate relationship. The constant tears had driven Eren nearly to a breaking point; multiple times you had begged him not to bring his frustration to physical blows. And now, your fake-boyfriend slash best friend and ex-boyfriend with the two worst tempers out of everyone you know are “talking”. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep the worry in your chest.

“Are you alright?” The question comes from Armin, who’s placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry that Jean isn’t taking the news well.”

“There’s no news,” Mikasa says low enough for none of the others to hear over the music, now standing directly behind Armin.

A neat little cross appears between Armin’s eyebrows. “They’re-”

“Faking,” she interrupts Armin, “they aren’t dating.”

Armin stammers, trying to correct her and apologize to you for her at the same time, but you just sigh. “How’d you know?”

“One of you would have told me,” she shrugs, “or at least I’d like to think you would.”

“It’s just…I couldn’t bear to show up alone, not with Jean here and apparently sleeping around since the breakup.” You cross your arms over your chest, grabbing your own shoulders tightly. It’s your fault, you know it is, but you had only wanted to feel a little less pathetic, a little less heartbroken. Drama had been an unfortunate and unexpected side effect.

“Why would Eren agree to that? It seems silly,” Armin muses, noticing your glare and immediately turning bright red, “I- I don’t mean you’re silly, just, you shouldn’t-”

“You know.” Mikasa bumps him. The slightest hint of a smile plays on her face, a knowing look directed at you. You frown, trying to look confused through the pink rising to your face.

A loud crash from the kitchen catches all of your attention, saving you from an uncomfortable line of conversation but making your heart beat that much faster. Dashing to the kitchen door, the entire house party hot on your heels, your thundering heart sinks.

Eren has Jean pinned up against Armin’s cabinets, forearm tight against the other man’s neck. Jean’s still seething at Eren, raw ego washing against the cool anger blazing in Eren’s eyes.

“Need to learn how to watch your fucking mouth, Kirschstein–”

“Eren!” Your voice is surprisingly firm, given the nauseating mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and panic swirling in your stomach. “Let him go!”

“Do you want to tell her what you said, or should I?” Eren hisses, nudging into Jean further. Jean’s eyes dart to you, back to Eren, and for a fleeting moment, you have hope that maybe this all can be resolved peacefully. And then Jean makes a fatal mistake.

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

Just as Eren swings, Reiner collides with the two, just barely catching Eren by his forearm before he can make contact with Jean’s cheek. Bertholdt, as always, is Reiner’s shadow, grabbing Eren by the shoulders and wrenching him away from Jean. It takes Connie, Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt to restrain both of them, Armin standing in the middle and shouting how ridiculous the fight is above the curses.

“It’s my fucking birthday, Jean, come on bro!” Connie growls, pinning Jean to the cabinets with his back.

“Jaeger- back off!” Reiner manages to pull him back a few inches, hardly able to contain Eren, who’s struggling furiously, in his massive arms. Jean finally relents, slouching into the multiple arms holding him back. After several seconds, Eren does the same, never taking his eyes off of Jean. Into the shocked silence, Armin bravely speaks first.

“Maybe we should leave,” he suggests awkwardly, “take the party elsewhere.”

You pity him, poor Armin and his hosting inclination. Eren finally turns to face you. The wrath laid bare in his eyes sends a chill over your body.

“We are,” he spits, sparing Jean one last threatening glance before storming over, grabbing you harshly by the wrist, and practically dragging you towards the door.

“Eren, wait–” you try to reason with him and dig your heels in, but it’s fruitless. Eren’s strong, stronger than you, and you don’t stand a chance stopping him now that his mind’s made up.

He doesn’t drop the act at the car, ripping your car door open, waiting impatiently for you to step into your seat, and slamming the door behind you. As soon as he turns the ignition, the same angry rock music you had listened to on the way over blasts from the speakers; Eren makes no move to turn it down and neither do you. After so many years together, his temper rarely scares you anymore; it’s more of a nuisance than anything when it flares. You stare out of the window, seething with anger, arms crossed and foot tapping.

Five minutes into the drive, you realize Eren isn’t taking you to your house, but to his. What he’s thinking, you can’t be sure, but you go ahead and start making your plans to give him an earful and call your Uber the moment you get there. You just can’t wrap your mind around why he would attack Jean and embarrass you like that– Eren may have been a hothead, but rarely did he let his temper escalate to that degree, especially against a friend.

Eren whips his car into the driveway, parking with such force you nearly knock your head against the headrest. You reach for your door handle, ready to throw it open, but Eren’s faster. He hits the child lock button and slams his own door behind him, storming around the car.

“The fucking child lock button?” You leap out of your seat once he’s opened your door, glaring up at him with your fists curled by your sides. “Is that what I am, Eren, a child?”

“Come inside.” Eren’s voice is low, dangerous. You’re too angry to indulge his temper.

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

No sooner have you pulled your phone out to call an Uber than Eren snatches it from you, sliding it into his pocket. He repeats himself, more forceful this time. “Come inside.”

You stand rooted to the spot for a beat, so angry you aren’t sure what you want to do more: run home, punch him, or kick his precious car headlight in. Eren simply glares down his strong nose at you, face unreadable as ever, rage still glittering in his eyes.

“Come inside, please,” Eren repeats himself again through gritted teeth. You decide you’ll indulge him and go inside, hear him out, and then punch him. At least it’ll catch him off guard, and you’ll have a better chance of getting your shot in. Without another word, you stomp up the walkway to his house, into the house, and into the kitchen, shoving your shoes off. Stupid fucking kitchens, you think to yourself, kicking your bare foot against the base of his kitchen island. Immature, but the little burst of violence feels good.

Whether Eren’s house smells like him or Eren smells like his house you’ve never been able to decide. The distinct scent of him envelops you: a boyish, sharp smell, laced with a hint of the weed he kept in the living room. Ordinarily it’s a comforting smell, but tonight, it nearly makes you sick with irritation. Fighting with Eren is something you do rarely, but you know the both of you well enough to buckle down. Arguing with Eren means you have a long, nasty, and emotionally gutting night ahead of you. You’re more than ready, fists shaking by your side.

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

He doesn’t answer, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a beer. He twists the top, tossing it aside carelessly and taking a healthy swig, bun bouncing on the back of his head, making no move to acknowledge your presence.

“Answer me!” Your voice rattles the cabinets. “Yeah, was the fake dating a stupid idea? Sure, fine, it was stupid, but starting a fucking fight with Jean on poor Connie’s birthday–”

“You didn’t hear what he said,” Eren says simply, still chugging his beer and avoiding your gaze.

“What could he have said to make you do that? What was so awful that you had to–”

“It was about you.” Eren finally brings his eyes to yours, staring you down through the little hairs that have escaped his bun with such intensity that it nearly knocks you clean on your ass.

Your heart stutters. “You– what did he say?”

“Told me if I wanted to taste your ‘slutty pussy’ so bad, I could just smell his breath. S’why he spit in my face.” Eren’s fingers wrap and unwrap around the beer bottle anxiously.

Your mouth drops agape, tears immediately springing to your eyes. No, you set your resolve, praying your body cooperates. “He…he said that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been fucking him?” Eren spares you another scalding look. Your temper flares at his anger, one fire against another.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Eren snaps, “this whole thing was your idea. What am I to you, just some toy you can dangle in front of your pussyboy ex boyfriend? How long have you been fucking him?”

“I haven’t been fucking him,” you hiss, “he lied because he was jealous. And you’re not some toy, you’re– you’re my best friend. I needed you.”

Eren freezes, eyeing you across the kitchen. His expression has changed, infinitesimally so, a pinch of the fury fading from his face but none of the heat. It strikes you that in the years you’ve known him, he’s never looked at you like this before, not once. “Say it again.”

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

“I needed– fuck, Eren, what is this? Some kind of game?”

He stalks toward you, silhouetted by the light behind him and looking sinful, closing you in. He’s forceful and shameless as he backs you into the counter, as quintessentially Eren as he can be. “Say it one more time.”

“I…needed you,” you indulge him, brain slowing down to pick up each little detail. His cologne– when did he start wearing cologne?– musky and thick in the air, one of his tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt, the tangible sensation of emerald eyes dragging along every inch of you.

“I like the way you say that,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. You stare blatantly. His mouth is red, pouty, and full, bottom lip a little chapped from where he was chewing it in the car. “That you need me.”

Words are lost on you; even if you could gather something to say, it would probably get stuck in your throat the moment it materialized. His presence is choking you. He brings one of those massive hands up, cupping your jaw, running a thumb over your lip. His posture, looming over you, is demanding, almost hungry.

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

“You’re a smart girl,” Eren murmurs, hot breath laced with beer fanning over your face, “you know. You’ve always known.”

You do know. When he ghosted a hand over your thighs at the bar, when you fell asleep on his chest watching a movie, the way he had kissed your head, nearly fought Jean, protected you at every twist and turn. You had kept it relegated to the recesses of your brain, slid a hand between your legs and allowed it to simmer to the surface, maybe for a moment, before pushing it back down. You had always known. He has you on the edge of a cliff, and with a thin gasp, you understand him now: he wants you to jump. And so do you.

“I still need you. Now.”

Something critical snaps in both of you. The countertop digs into your lower back, a beautiful, aching pain blooming up your spine to meet the sting of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. He’s kissing you; this magnetic, maddening man is kissing you, hard. It’s all tongue and teeth, fingers wrapping in hair, hands exploring familiar places in a new way. Greedy, demanding sounds slip through his teeth as he paws at your clothes, squeezes your curves through the silken shirt Sasha had lent you.

“This shirt is ridiculous,” Eren pants into your mouth, “wish I wasn’t about to rip it off of you.”

A little whimper leaves your mouth at that, and your knees buckle. Eren catches you, grabbing you by your torso and lifting you up onto the kitchen counter; you use the extra height to wrap your legs around his hips. A groan from deep in Eren’s chest rumbles against your lips as he rolls his clothed cock insistently against you. The low, simmering heat in your stomach catches fire; he’s big, even through both of your pants, rubbing himself into where you need him most. A hand creeps up your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing you to look up at him. It hits you how large he is; six feet and some change of taut, corded muscle, bad intentions, temptation.

His voice is quiet and controlled, so close to your face that his nose moves against yours as he speaks. “I’m going to take you to my room. If that’s not okay with you, I need you to say it right now.”

You nod urgently, relishing the burn in your scalp where he holds your hair tight. “I want it- want you.”

Eren slides you off of the kitchen counter and holds you firmly around his waist, making a beeline for his room. You mouth at his neck, enjoying the little grunts he makes against your ear. You drop unceremoniously onto the bed, left to watch as he tears off his shirt.

Oh, and do you watch. It’s difficult to comprehend that your best friend is the man standing above you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but not like this: chest heaving, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, muscles flexing as he reaches for your shirt, ripping it from you and tossing it away. Your eyes draw towards the defined v leading down beneath his jeans, and you wonder how it might taste under your tongue.

Your bra comes next, Eren moving down to take your lips in his again as he deals with the clasp. He pushes you onto your back, kissing down your neck, sneaking harsh bites in between the gentle presses of his lips.

“Careful, Eren– you’ll leave marks,” you gasp, pulling at his hair.

“Good,” Eren replies against your neck, emphasizing his point with another deep bite to your neck, “you wanted everyone to think I was your little boyfriend, didn’t you? Let them see.” 

Your panties grow damp and hot against your core at that; you have no other response than to choke out a stunted moan.

“Fuck, you have no idea,” he growls, traveling down, teeth scraping the top of your breast, “what you do to me. How long I’ve wanted you.”

Your mind falters, caught in the crosswires of Eren’s confession and the way you’re clutching his head to your breasts, fingers desperately threaded in his dark hair and pulling him as close as you could get him. His mouth is so hot it burns, even against your feverish skin. 

“Remember…” Eren muses, mouthing his way down your stomach, “remember college? When you’d wear those slutty little dresses out?”

“I remember,” you breathe, impatient and urging him towards your lower half.

“Used to come home from the bar and jerk myself off, thinking about this sweet little cunt,” Eren tears your pants down your legs, panties following, “could practically see it in those short ass dresses. I’d cum thinking about how you’d sound when I stuck my tongue in it.”

A lewd whine rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Eren’s pressing your thighs open now, and his words and the quick little swipes he’s making across your clit are making you dizzy.

“Fuck…” Eren trails off, eyes wide, “got such a pretty pussy. Just look at you.”

“Eren, please,” you’ve never been the begging type, but the bright green eyes peering up at you from where your legs are propped open by broad, strong shoulders take your sense away.

“I’ve got you,” he shushes you, grinning as he leans into your center. A thick stripe of a lick up the center elicits a groan from you both. “So fucking sweet. Knew you would be.”

Eren hooks his arms around your legs, dragging you down the bed to be flush with his face. Eren’s no amateur when it comes to women, you know that, but you had never dared to let yourself imagine what that might translate to in practice.

He licks little figure-eights around your clit, not quite hitting it; he’s teasing you, the antagonist that he is. You tremble under him, little gasps and whimpers puffing out of your lips. Eren smiles contentedly against your pussy, nose flush with your clit, nudging against it rhythmically as he licks through your folds, circling your entrance. You bring your hands down your body, grabbing a fistful of dark hair and pulling him closer to you; you don’t even know what you want, the singular word more ringing in your head like a church bell.

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

“Stop fucking with me,” you breathe, inwardly cringing at the desperation in your voice, laid bare for him to see. You brace yourself, looking down to meet his eyes, and instantly regret it. The anger has faded entirely from his face, replaced by an unyielding hunger. A wet, wicked smile plays at his mouth; you can physically feel your cunt dripping just at the sight of him.

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

And then, like he does with everything else in his life, Eren licks into you like his life depends on it, like he’s trying to drown himself in you. His tongue pushes in and out of your hole, swirling around your clit, and you can distantly hear the most obscene sounds you’ve ever heard slipping from your mouth. He’s so good, better than you’ve had in years; you throw your head back against the bedspread, hardly able to focus on breathing.

Just when you think it can’t get any more intense, Eren slides one long finger inside of you, curling it against a spongy spot in your walls that makes you see stars. He chuckles at the loud, long moan that you let out.

“My girl likes being full, doesn’t she?” He pumps his finger slowly, testing your limits. Your walls clutch down on him, begging.

“M-more,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent word through your panting.

“What was that?” You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

“Good, good girl,” he coos, pushing another finger into you, “so sweet and needy for me, yeah?”

Your eyes fly open at the stretch, the fullness of his fingers moving inside you. His other hand comes up to push on your lower stomach; your head snaps up, and you frown at him, panicked.

“W-what are you– oh,” you hate yourself for it, but you can’t even speak as he applies pressure onto your abdomen. You feel strange; it’s just right and too much all at once. The familiar bubble of an impending orgasm swells in the pit of your stomach, but it’s more intense, wetter than you’ve ever felt it. 

“Close?”

“Mhm,” you force out through gritted teeth. Eren moves his elbow slightly, just enough to bear down on your hip bone where you’re pushing your hips up towards him unwittingly. “But it- it feels weird…I, I can’t–”

“Sh,” he murmurs, mouth back against your clit, “you can do it, just for me, I know you can. It’s going to feel so good, you’ll see.”

Your eyes roll back in your head as you teeter on the precipice, blood roaring in your ears. You want to, you need to–

“Cum all over my fucking face baby, give it to me.”

The band in you snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head. You can feel your cunt spasming around his fingers, pushing something out. Liquid sprays from you, all over Eren’s face, soaking the sheets beneath you. You can’t even hear the lewd sounds coming out of your mouth, too surprised at the gushing orgasm. It finally winds down, and once you gather the energy, you shove insistently at his hand still pumping in and out of your sensitive pussy.

“You have the messiest little cunt,” Eren chuckles at you, wiping his face and kissing his way back up to your gasping mouth, “knew you were a squirter.”

He lands a few gentle taps against your sore pussy, and you flinch. 

“I–I’ve never…” you take a shaky breath in between every word, “never done that before.”

Pride illuminates his face. “Really? I knew you could do it– just for me, right?”

You nod, sitting up on trembling elbows. “Your cock, I– I want it in my mouth. Please let me.”

You reach down to fumble with the button of his jeans, but Eren grabs your wrist, pulling your hand up to kiss it gently. “Next time. I’d never forgive myself if I busted before I got to fuck you.”

Too overwhelmed to answer, you simply nod again, sitting back as he shimmies his pants off. Once you catch sight of it, your mouth waters. He’s big, bigger than you thought, wide enough to where your fingers wouldn’t touch if you grabbed it, and long enough to make you gag. The thought goes straight between your legs, cunt still throbbing and clutching around nothing, and a rush of anticipation washes over you.

Eren flips you over onto your stomach, shoving a couple of pillows underneath your hips to prop your ass up. “Christ,” he exhales, landing a sharp smack to your ass.

“Please, Eren- oh!” You jump; Eren’s circling your asshole, using the mess you’ve already made as lube to pop the tip of his thumb in. “Eren…”

“You’d let me fuck you there, one day, I bet,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, you think. Your body tenses in response, the memory of your first glance at his cock fresh in your mind. Eren swears under his breath. “Maybe next time, then.”

You hear him spit, hear the slick sounds of him lathering himself up. You have a brief moment to think to yourself, with the last glimmering shreds of consciousness in your orgasm-dazed mind, that this is Eren. This is your best friend, pinning you to the bed by the back of your neck, rubbing your lower back, admiring you, fucking you. And then the head of his cock is pressing into you, and that last little bit of hesitation gives way.

“Oh, baby,” Eren bends over you to growl in your ear, “never gonna forgive you for keeping this perfect pussy from me all these years.”

“Eren, it’s so– oh my god,” you trail off, eyes rolling back into your head as a few more inches of him sink into you. The way your body stretches for him, the way he fills you, is unbelievable, sweetened by just the slightest burning sensation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing his forehead into the back of your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Best I’ve ever had.”

You whine at that, pushing your hips back into his and forcing him to bottom out. Eren swears against your skin, nearly collapsing on top of you. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to hold him. You can hardly fathom the weight of him inside you; you’re just so full, the word runs through your mind on a loop.

And when he rolls his hips into yours– you nearly start praying. He drags against your walls so nicely, you nearly cum again then and there. He works up a torturously slow rhythm, grinding his hips into yours. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying your hardest to suppress the obscene groan about to leave your mouth. You taste blood.

“Never giving this pussy up,” Eren grunts above you, “never letting you give this to anybody else again. It’s mine, isn’t it?”

You nod into the pillow beneath your head, tears pricking at your eyes. He’s picking up the pace now, and the exquisite push-and-pull rhythm of Eren moving inside of you coupled with the fact that it’s Eren moving inside of you is destroying any semblance of intelligent conversation you can muster.

“Say it’s mine,” his face is beside yours now. A hand grabs your hair, turning your face towards him. You know how dazed you must look, mouth open in a permanent gasp, eyes watery and full of hearts. “God, you look fucking incredible. Say it.”

“My…my pussy is,” you swallow hard around the delicious knot of shame in your throat, “yours. It’s yours.”

“That’s my girl,” Eren sits back up, thrusting even faster, “my pussy, my girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you pant, canting your hips back against his, feeling your next orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Eren understands, already knows your body as well as he knows you, and moves the angle of his hips just so to hit that spot he had found so quickly with his fingers earlier. You keen, drooling into the pillow, letting him fuck you stupid.

Eren shoves you over the edge for the second time that night. It’s toe curling, almost violent in nature, the way you cum around him, listening to him hiss as you tighten around him, vice-like. He fucks you through your orgasm for just long enough to see you through it, and flips you onto your back the moment you begin to twitch and shove at his hips, desperate for a break.

You slowly blink your eyes open in surprise, letting the tears roll down your cheeks, expecting to see Eren lining himself up, ready to fuck you senseless once more. Instead, he’s studying you, wiping a tear from your face, licking it off of his finger. There’s a moment happening here, an important one, one you don’t have the mental capacity to absorb right now.

“I want to see you now,” Eren says quietly, “need to see your pretty face when I cum, m’kay?”

You nod dumbly, not knowing how to respond to him in the thick air hanging between you. Before Eren can get any more words out of his open mouth, a loud ring startles you both.

Your phone is buzzing on the floor where it fell from Eren’s pocket; the name on the screen nearly stops your heart. Jean.

You stare into Eren’s eyes, a long, silent beat passes between you both. Your hazy mind is scrambling, grasping at anything you can say to take his mind off of the awkward interruption, but to your surprise, Eren cracks a grin. It’s a wicked grin, prettier than the devil himself and twice as evil.

“Your other boyfriend calling? Checking up on you?”

“He’s not my-”

“Better not be. Not after what I did to you tonight,” Eren’s voice drips with ego. Something in his eyes is territorial, carnal.

You find your words, but they come out quiet. “He’s not. Never again.”

Eren’s grin grows darker. He’s nudging your knees apart with his own, reaching down and pulling one of your legs to wrap around his waist. He’s pushing himself in now, the ringing of your phone fading into the background as the all-encompassing stretch of Eren inside you takes over your thoughts.

“Such a good girl,” he coos, thumbing at your bottom lip, “such a good mouth. Always telling me what I want to hear.”

You nod again, urgently this time, pulling your other leg up to hook them around his waist, hold him inside you, make sure he never leaves again. You’re addicted already; addicted to the pressure in your abdomen, addicted to the way his tip kisses your cervix, addicted to the taste of his sweat as you lick a strip of it from his face, cheekbone to temple.

“I…” you aren’t sure how to articulate how good it is, how good he is. A defeated laugh of your own making interrupts you. “You feel so fucking good. I feel so fucking good right now.”

“God, just look at you, all fucked out for me. You love it, don’t you?” Eren kisses your forehead, face to face with you after propping his elbows on either side of your face. “Love how I fuck you like a whore, don’t you? Tell me, baby.”

“I love it,” your voice is quivering, and you’re vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face. You’re overstimulated, you at least know that, but he just feels so good that asking him to stop seems more painful than letting him keep hammering into you.

“My pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Eren rambles, “so pretty when you cry for me.”

You can’t break away from his gaze, not through the tears or the rapid-fire speed of him fucking into you. Your legs are shaking so badly you can barely hold them up; Eren’s letting a flurry of little grunts and groans fly out, grabbing onto your cheek with one hand.

“Gonna cum soon,” he huffs, hips still pistoning into you hard enough to hurt, “gonna cum in your pussy, really make it mine, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper, clamping down on him at the mere thought of it.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you?” He seethes against your forehead, thrusts beginning to falter. “You want to be mine? Want this pretty cunt stuffed full of my cum?”

You can feel him getting closer now, sloppy thrusts punching into your cervix, the ache of bruises forming on your inner thighs as he uses you, chasing his orgasm. You force your eyes open, meeting bright, hypnotizing green. Your voice is going to break, you know it, you hate it, you love him for it. “I– I want to be yours. P-please cum in me Eren, I need it.”

He slams into you one last time, holding his hips as tightly to yours as he can manage, cumming deep inside you with a breathless curse. You arch your back, relishing the feel of his cum in you, warm and filling. Even in your fucked-out mind, you know it’s a lot; you can feel the drip of it, seeping out around his cock and down onto the sheets. The leaden collapse of his body into yours, the gradual softening of him inside you, grounds you, pulling you down from the clouds and back into the bed.

It’s Eren on top of you, sweaty skin clinging to yours, his cum that you begged him for leaking out of your abused pussy. Your eyes shoot open. He’s incredibly heavy, your breath still coming out in short puffs as you try to catch it. He slides out of you; one last pitiful whimper leaving your lips as you find yourself empty.

“Holy shit,” Eren breathes out into the tension, a humorless and exhausted laugh punctuating his statement. As he rolls off of you, you’re overcome with the urge to smack him.

“That’s one way of putting it.” You scrounge around in the bed, trying to find the edge of the sheets to cover yourself with. Eren lays beside you, arm tossed over his eyes, as if the entire axis of your friendship hadn’t just flipped on its head. After a beat, you speak your mind, testing the waters. “I should probably call Jean back.”

That catches his attention. Eren sits up, scowling at you. “Why?”

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

Eren snorts, rolling off of the bed and pulling you up with him, bridal-style; you aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but all the fight’s been fucked out of you, and you melt into his arms, eyes falling closed. “Who fucking cares?”

“I might,” you answer quietly, adjusting to the heat radiating off of his body. When your eyes open, you realize he’s carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. Your heart thuds sadly in your chest, overcome with so many emotions you couldn’t begin to name them if you tried. You almost want to cry again, for a different reason now.

Eren sits you on the toilet, not responding to your small confession. He drops to his knees before you, reaches a long arm behind him over to the fixtures on his obscenely large bathtub, pushing the plug in and turning the water on. You draw your knees up to your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. Satisfied with the water temperature, Eren turns back to you, one hand placed firmly on each of your kneecaps.

“You don’t need him,” he says, solemn as you’ve ever seen him, “and from what I saw tonight, you don’t even want him. You know that now, right?”

There’s something about the way he says it, a hidden thread of pleading woven into his words. Your exhausted brain holds onto that, but your heart refuses to believe in it, broken and beating wildly in your chest.

“I just–”

“I meant it, you know,” Eren avoids your direct gaze, eyes flitting over every feature on your face, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Meant every word of it.”

You pause, wondering absentmindedly if he can hear the pounding of your pulse. “Really?”

“We don’t need to get into it now,” he shrugs, “but you know that. You know I’d do anything for you. You know I’d treat you well. ‘M not a bad guy.”

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

“So that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life?” He fixes you with a singular, raised eyebrow, so serious that you giggle in his face.

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

The light returns to his eyes; it loosens a hard little piece in your chest, flooding you with warmth. It hits you just how much you love that little sparkle amongst the green, just how much you would give to see it as often as you can. “We won’t talk about it, for now at least. I’ll get us cleaned up, and we can go watch–”

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

“No fucking shot. But we can watch something else of your choosing, if you let me eat you out again.”

“Eren!” You smack his shoulder, scandalized. Both of you laugh; your fake outrage is twice as funny considering the state of you right now, smeared makeup and bruises on your neck.

He grins crookedly back at you. “That’s not a no.”

[ribbonprincess]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

"Do a lil twirl for me,yeah...your ass looks so good baby." Rafe chuckles,fixing his pants as they tightened around his crotch,the sight of you in a tiny white mini skirt the reason.

"You like it rafey? I bought It thinking of you" "yeah,no shit- you used my credit card" he chuckles. Moving from his spot on the bed,he walks over you,laying his hands on your hips as he squishes the skin. "You should wear it today while I go golfing,you can look pretty in the cart and if you're good enough daddy will buy you a drink."

He smiles before tilting his head down to press his lips against yours as you whine almost immediately,slapping his chest "my lipgloss! you just smeared it all over,daddy." Turning around to face the mirror as you try to deescalate the situation of your almost ruined makeup,dabbing at the area around your lips with a beauty blender.

"Yeah yeah,'s just lip gloss,it's nothing serious." Gasping dramatically you turn around,hand on your chest as if you've been shot as you point a finger at his chest "'s not just lipgloss.."

Chuckling to himself Rafe presses a kiss against your shoulder "I'm sorry cupcake, daddy's being mean yeah?" Nodding as you run your manicured fingers over his jawline,pressing your chest against his,making your tits more visible as you smile softly- a tragic contrast to your action.

꒦꒷︶°꒷︶°︶₊˚ʚɞ˚₊︶°︶꒦˚︶꒷꒦

As you sit prettily in the golf cart,sipping at your drink while watching rafe play with his friends,you can't help but feel lonely,so you decide to approach as he stands a few feet behind the others. "rayray?"

Turning around almost immediately Rafe's expression softens a bit before turning hard. "What are you doing here,told you to sit in the cart" "Yeah... I know,but I missed you" Emphasizing your words you run a hand over his chest,playing with the button of his slacks.

"Missed me huh?" Looking over his shoulder he shouts a quick "Little lady is feeling sick!" Before dragging you over the Golf cart and driving over a more secluded area of the field,covered by trees and bushes.

"Since you've been missing me sooo much,might as well show it. C'mon get on your knees" Taking one last look around you move to your knees on the moist grass,quickly unbuckling his belt as you pull down his pants and boxer just as much needed. Wrapping a hand around the base of his shaft you kiss the vein that runs on the underside of it, resulting in a harsh tug of your hair. "Don't fucking tease me."

Wrapping your lips around his tip before slowly moving down,twisting your hand around what you couldn't fit "Deeper...I've trained you better than this,kid" Rafe mumble from above you,shoving your head down until you gag harshly,tears already pooling at your lash line. "Yeah,there you go...nice and warm for me." Looking up through your clamped wispy lashes you start to move your head again,twirling your tongue around his length like a popsicle as Rafe groans from above you "Got myself the best girl,right? Sucking my dick like this where everyone can pass by"

Nodding as best as you can,you pull off him with a loud "pop". "Wanna make you feel good,daddy." Smiling to himself, Rafe wipes at your saliva coated lower lip before bringing your mouth back on him with a satisfied moan,brushing some strand of hair that have fallen over your face away. "Fuck,keep doing that and I'm gonna cum. You want daddy to cum in your mouth? Yeah,you do."

Meeting you midway as he thrust into your mouth,giving you no time to react or even understand. "shit- 'm cumming" As his rhythm gets sloppier,you suck around his tip holding onto his thigh as you feel a milky substance flood your mouth. Breathing loudly he pulls you away from him as he smirks "Show me your tongue,angel" showcasing your tongue with a proud smile you look up at him in search of praise. "good girl,what do we say now?" "thank you daddy!"

[nochepsicodelica]

Suggestive

Lazy, exhausted, almost two in the morning, running on fumes kisses with Toji. You're tangled up in each other, pressing kisses all over each other's faces and necks, avoiding connecting your lips because when you do, you both forget to pause to breathe due to how tired you are.

"Go to sleeep," he drawls into your softly marked neck, biting the delicate skin after.

You let out a hushed giggle. "No, I think you should go to sleep," you push back, running your fingers through the soft hair that meets the nape of his neck.

"You're delirious from how tired you are, doll. How 'bout you go to sleep?"

This can go back and forth for as long as necessary because neither of you has anything to do later in the day, so you can sleep in as long as you want.

"I'm delirious?" You ask, displaying a playful expression of disbelief.

"Mhm, that's right. You're delirious," Toji responds, smugly.

"Not you? The one who just bit me, like you're starting to see me as food, from how tired you are?"

"Mmm... you're a whole meal, mama. I eat you all the time." He chuckles, a free flowing, deep sound against your neck.

"And now you're a delirious perv. Great."

His lips go to your ear. "You make me this way, doll. You make so many nasty thoughts of you run through my head, all the time."

"Shuuuut up. Shut. Up."

Toji grins like a fiend at your flustered, blurted words, but ultimately decides to stop teasing you, so you both can get to sleep.

"Alright, alright, let's both shut up," he says, pulling you into him. He envelops you and smushes your face into his chest, allowing the room to finally still entirely. The silence doesn't last longer than ten seconds, because of you. A loud snicker cuts the quietness and you squirm out of Toji's hold.

"What now?" He asks, eyeing you with a small grin. You're really something.

"Sorry, I-" you pause to laugh. "I don't know. The silence cracked me up."

"See, if anyone's delirious, it's you. Over here laughing over nothing, like a crazy person." You quiet down again, and try your hardest not to laugh at Toji's playful chiding. "There you go, baby. Shh..."

"Shh..." you mimic, a laugh following.

Out of nowhere, you're scooped up in Toji's arms and laid down flat on his body, your abdomen pressed to the upper part of his.

"Do that again. I dare you."

You've never been one to back down from his challenges, so you do exactly as told.

"Shh..." you hush again, your finger going to his lips, this time.

"Uh-uh. Try again." He nips at your finger, earning a bubbly giggle from you when you quickly pull it away before he can bite it.

"Shh...?" You repeat, with a questioning tone, a hand cupped over his mouth, this time.

Toji shakes his head, not missing out on the chance to run his tongue over your palm. You gasp, and pull your hand off his mouth and he tugs on the front of your shirt, pulling you closer to him. You giggle at the close proximity, receiving a smirk from him in return.

"Shh..." he hushes you once more, as he pulls you in for a kiss. He releases the now somewhat loosened collar of your shirt, and slides his hands up the back of your shirt, allowing them to roam your warm skin. He expects to feel the hooks of your bra any second now, but they're never felt, so his hands are able to smoothly continue up towards your shoulder blades and press your body closer to his.

You both clearly haven't learned that you'll be gasping for air when you separate, because there you are, brushing lips continuously like you're racing to see who can start the next kiss first. Like your lips being connected is what keeps you breathing and not the opposite.

The sounds of mutual short, rapid breaths fill your ears, still, neither of you makes any effort to pull away. Your lungs are starting to burn, but it's nothing compared to the heat you feel from Toji's kisses. His fingertips are gentle on your skin, gliding over your upper back and prodding at the length of your spine.

"Fuck, Toji-"

"Mm-mm, come here," he says, against your lips, not wanting to separate from you just to get those measly words out. You can only handle a few more seconds, before you finally have to be the one to break the kiss.

"Okay, o-," you say, pulling back with a final smack of your lips and a breathy laugh. "You win."

"Yeah?" Toji asks, his voice breathy, but not as breathy as yours. "Well, I choose your lips as my prize, so get back here."

You giggle when he pulls his hands out of your shirt and manually brings you close again. Your lips connect and you repeat the long process of kissing each other senseless. You're both so kiss drunk, practically trying to inhale each other with every lengthy lip lock. It's a fire sale of affection, going on until one of you is rendered too tired to kiss the other back. Toji is taking all he can get because he knows your lung capacity isn't as strong as his, so when he hears those shuddered breaths coming from you, he knows he has to be faster and take more, before things wrap up.

You can barely keep up, still fighting to regain your breath from the last round of kisses. Once you realize that it's futile to try and match his pace, you stop and choke out another laugh. Toji's arms are tightly wrapped around you, his kisses now being pressed to the rest of your face, while you giggle at the overload of affection. You put your index and middle fingers up to his lips, snickering as you try to hold it together.

"Sh-Shh..." you hush, the sound cut off multiple times by bursts of your laughter. Toji smirks and kisses your fingertips once.

"You're unbearable," he teases, loving the glimmer that remains in your eyes when you look at him.

You retract your fingers from his lips, your smile lingering from your fit of giggles. "You're barely tolerable," you bite back.

"You're sleep deprived," he adds.

"You're sleep deprived," you respond, using his own words against him.

"You're addicting." His reason for being awake this late with you.

"I love you." Your reason for being awake this late with him.

There's a twinkle in those dark, green eyes of his, similar to the brilliance that appears in them when he comes home to you after being away on a mission for days. "What? You know this, already." Your stomach swarms with butterflies when you become all too aware of how he's looking at you with stars in his eyes, as if you've withheld these words from him for too long.

"Yeah," Toji says, like he's entranced by the sound of your voice. It's soft, as if anyone else could hear you and him outside of the room. "I like the way you say it." Your words disperse warmth throughout his entire body. They give him a feeling similar to that of when you hold him close, lovingly and protectively. "Come on. Say it, again."

You're nervous. This has never been an issue, since you tell Toji you love him all the time. You feel like you're being put on the spot, like you're being asked to perform for him. He's under you, watching you so intently, patiently waiting for you to cave into his need to hear you repeat those words.

"Say it, again. For me?"

Some believe that the significance of the phrase 'I love you' loses its value if repeated too often, and if that truly is the case, the meaning has long faded between you and Toji. They are now just three simple words that you say every day, between morning and nighttime. Three words that you say to each other before leaving for work and after a good or bad day. Three words that you say to each other before concluding a call when either of you is at the grocery store alone or when you make up after an argument. Three words that stir feelings ranging from playful to genuine doubt, if not reciprocated in seconds.

"I love you."

"Hm?" He heard you.

"I love you."

"What?" He heard you that time as well.

"I love you."

"Huh?" He heard you just as clearly as the times before.

"Toji."

"Good. Now, put it all together."

You sigh, with false irritation, and roll your eyes. "I love you, Toji." A smile curls onto your lips. "There. Happy?"

"I could kiss you," he says, with his own devilish, little grin.

"Stop," you groan. "You're insatiable and you know I won't say no," you say, positioning yourself comfortably on him for some much needed sleep.

"You can't blame me for loving your kisses." Toji brings the blanket over your bodies, letting it come up to the middle of your back. His arms rest above the thick cover, on your upper back. "It's hard to stop. You're just so soft and sweet, mama."

"We can kiss for soooo long, later today, but in order to do that we need to sleep now or we'll be sleeping all day, instead."

"Fine, then," Toji grumbles, tightening his arms around you. "Go to sleep, but if I wake up before you, i'm gonna do a wake up attack on you, and you can't be all grumpy about it."

"Wait, wha-"

You lift your head to see if he's joking, only for his hand to guide it back down to chest.

"Shh... Love you. Goodnight."

[wintaerbaer]

bottle up old love (jjk) (m)

summary: Jungkook may have broken up with you a year ago, but that's not going to stop him from coming to your rescue when he sees you being cornered by a creep.

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

genre: exes to lovers, the holy trinity of angst/smut/fluff

word count: 4.6k (this was supposed to be a drabble 💀)

prompt: JK + exes to lovers + "I'm sorry" + "I hate you" + "Don't fucking touch me" + "Leave" (for @btsborahaee <3)

warnings: language, a short harassment scene at the beginning (nothing too intense), explicit content including: unprotected sex (DO NOT), fingering, praise kink, biting, marking, spanking, cum eating (sort of?), big cawk soft dom jk, cowgirl (yeehaw), creampie, cockwarming, i think that's all but this also wasn't supposed to be too smutty so clearly idk what's going on lol

MASTERLIST

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

You spit the words at the man in front of you, pushing him back as he tries to make another grab at your arm.

“Why do you gotta be like that?” Seungcheol whines. “I thought we were having fun.”

“You and I have very different ideas of fun.” You take a step backwards towards your building. Somewhere down the sidewalk, footsteps clatter against the pavement.

“C’mon.” He matches your movement, reaches for you again. “Invite me up. You enjoyed the last time, didn’t you? I told you that was just a warm-up.”

The building’s brick wall is closer than you thought, and you bang your shoulder against it as you try to sidestep him. “Last time you didn’t follow me to a bar I didn’t even invite you to. How did you know where I was anyway?”

“Let me come up, and I’ll tell you,” he rumbles with a flicker of his eyebrows. He has you fully backed up against the wall now, and you press against the muscle of his chest to no avail.

“Stop!” you shout before he’s ripped away from you so suddenly that you’re left blinking in confusion, huddled against the brick.

There’s a thud–the sound of a fist hitting flesh–and a yelp before Seungcheol is reeling back with his hands clutching his nose. Blood seeps out from beneath his fingers, black even under the glow of the streetlamps.

“What the fuck?” he shrieks, and it’s only then that you take a proper look at your savior, looking every bit like he’s stepped straight out of the shadows with his dark hair, ebony clothes, and deep brown eyes.

And a lead weight drops into your stomach as you recognize him.

Jungkook sets himself between you and Seungcheol, looming over the latter as he continues to cover his face, whining. “I’m giving you ten seconds to get out of here.”

“Who the fuck are you?!”

“Ten,” Jungkook growls, taking a step in Seungcheol’s direction. “Nine.”

Seungcheol straightens–clearly a last-ditch attempt to look intimidating. Spitting blood onto the concrete, he peers at you over Jungkook’s shoulder. “This isn’t over, bitch.”

Then he spins and takes off running down the street.

Your hands grip your elbows. It may be a balmy summer night, but you’re shivering where you stand, unsure whether you’re more affected by Seungcheol’s behavior or the ghost who’s unexpectedly in front of you.

“Are you okay?” he quietly asks, gaze fixed on your face. You stare at your shoes and give him a brisk nod as a response before turning away, punching in your building code, and walking through the front door.

He follows closely, slipping in behind you and trailing a few feet. You let him for a little while, guiding him through the modest lobby and up the first flight of stairs. But when you’re halfway up the second stairwell–almost to your floor–you pause on the landing, spinning his way.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

His eyes are gentle, sincere. “Making sure you get in safely.”

“There’s no need for that,” you assert. “I’m already in my building. There’s a keypad. I’m good.”

“The keypad does almost nothing. I followed you in no problem.”

“So I should be worried about you then?”

He flushes, the tips of his ears going pink. “Please just let me see you inside.”

You want to argue back, want to shout at him and make a scene, but you know it’s no use. Know that he’s stubborn as a bull and will get what he wants one way or another.

It’s how he broke up with you after all.

You say nothing, only hustle up the last set of steps and down the dimly-lit hallway until you’re in front of your door, Jungkook tailing you the whole time with his hands in his pockets. You practically fumble your key in your haste to get it into the lock, letting out a satisfied sigh as the latch finally clicks open.

“There. I’m in,” you say as you step over the threshold, waving a dismissive hand at your unwanted companion. “Leave.”

But he hesitates just outside the doorway, teeth chewing at the corner of his lip. “What are you going to do if he comes back?”

“That’s my problem, isn’t it? I stopped being your concern when you dropped me out of nowhere a year ago.”

Your eyes sting at the memory, tears threatening to spill over. You don’t want him here. Don’t want to see him or have him anywhere in your vicinity. Not when it still hurts like this.

Though, truth be told, you don’t expect to ever be fully over him.

“We’re done, Jungkook,” you murmur. “You made sure of that.”

And you close the door in his face.

The distress subsides quickly once he’s out of sight–like he was never there to begin with–and you don’t linger, dropping your bag on the sofa and heading straight for the bathroom. This is how you’ve made it a year without him; it was weeks of crying before you realized that wallowing was doing you no good, only fueling your misery instead of providing any kind of catharsis. So you’ve done your best to simply push past it and cast away the anguish that bubbles up every time you think of him. Not allow it to linger like the shadows at the edges of the room.

You shed your clothes and turn the shower to a temperature that you’ll probably regret later. But for now, you savor the way the water sears your skin as you wash away the day with all of its unpleasant surprises. Taking your time, you scrub every inch of your body and carefully shampoo your hair (trying not to fall back into the fantasy that’s plagued you on occasion where it’s his hands and not yours spreading the bubbles over your form).

The self-care continues as you step out of the shower and leisurely work through your skin care routine, even taking the time to blow dry your hair. By the time you exit the bathroom, the fog on the mirror has dissipated, and you’ve once again successfully tamped down the memory of Jungkook and his hands and eyes and everything you ever felt for him.

Or so you think.

After popping into your bedroom to pull on some pajamas, you pad back into the living room for a glass of water, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the front door. Regret attempts to push its way into your consciousness against your better judgment. The man broke your heart, yes. But you do feel a little guilty slamming the door in his face after he just fought off a creep for you.

And speaking of Seungcheol, what if he does come back? You’re pretty sure he saw you punch in the building code the night you brought him home with you, and given his behavior, you wouldn’t be surprised if he filed it away in his head.

Anxiety winning out, you creep to the door and peer through the peephole. The hallway looks empty, drab beige walls taking up most of your field of view, but you jump as you spot a hulking shadow to the right. Your heartbeat races then slows, a closer look revealing hunched, unmoving shoulders wrapped in a familiar black t-shirt.

Jungkook swings his head to look at you as you open the door and glare down at him. His legs are pulled up, arms resting on his knees, and it might be endearing if not for the fact that he absolutely, positively should not be here.

“What are you doing?” you ask him for the second time tonight.

“He might come back.”

“And you’re going to what? Fight him?”

He shrugs. “If I have to.”

“Yeah?” You raise an eyebrow, challenging. “You’re going to sit out here all night?”

He shifts where he sits, wiggling his hips like he’s firmly planting his butt into his chosen spot. “Yes.”

You roll your eyes at him but don’t doubt that he would. Again, if there is anything you know this man to be, it’s stubborn. “You’re going to scare the neighbors.”

“Who, Mrs. Kwon?” A tiny smile plays on his lips as he glances in the direction of your elderly neighbor’s apartment. “I think she’d be delighted to see me.”

If you’re being honest, she probably would be. She’s always adored Jungkook and praised him as the “kind, handsome young man” who helped her put away groceries and fixed her leaky faucet one time. In the months following your breakup, she’d asked about him once or twice, patting your arm reassuringly when you awkwardly told her she wouldn’t be seeing him anymore.

“Don’t worry, dear,” she said. “He’ll come around.”

Well she’s turned out to be right in that he’s certainly back here again, still watching you from his spot on the floor. And you don’t know whether it’s his big doe eyes or the fact that he really would guard your apartment all night if you let him or the genuine fear that one of the other neighbors will make a fuss at his presence, but you feel yourself softening.

Turning abruptly, you stride into the kitchen for your glass of water, walking out of sight of the door, which is still wide open.

“You coming?” you call, pulling two glasses down from the cupboard.

There’s a rustle as Jungkook stands and shuffles into your apartment, closing the door behind him with a soft thud. For someone who was so determined to defend you tonight, he seems uncertain now that he’s actually inside. His hands are once again stuffed in his pockets, and his eyes flicker around like he hasn’t been here a thousand times. Hasn’t cooked you breakfast in this kitchen in nothing but his boxers. Hasn’t watched The Notebook with you on this TV and held you as you both cried.

Hasn’t made love to you on the couch.

You slide a water his way, and he murmurs his thanks, sipping at it lightly. It’s strange–seeing him here again–and you can’t help but think about the last time he stood in this room. It’d been a maelstrom of accusations and hurt feelings that culminated in him storming out, the slam of the door echoing in your ears.

“You never cleaned that?” He gestures at the rug that covers most of the sitting area in your living room, eyes on the dark purple stain roughly the size of your hand.

You gulp down your water and try not to follow his line of sight. Try not to remember how you’d knocked over a glass of wine in your haste to get his clothes off during another movie night less than a month before your breakup.

“I kind of forgot about it,” you say. “Stopped noticing it after a while.” 

It’s a lie. There was never a time when you didn’t notice it, the memory of him haunting you every time you sit down on the couch and stare at the garish stain. And still, you haven’t been able to bring yourself to try and erase it.

Silence worms its way between you again. With only the soft light from the tabletop lamp glowing next to the couch, Jungkook’s face is cloaked in shadow. And so you barely see his lips move when he speaks. Barely hear it with how quietly his whisper slips into the room.

“I’m sorry.”

Your glass almost drops from your fingers, droplets splashing across your knuckles as you catch it at the last moment and steady it on the countertop. Turning to face him, you find his gaze already on you, melancholy tinting his expression.

“What?”

He tongues his lip ring, shoulders dropping a fraction. “For how things ended. I’m sorry.”

You can see the sincerity in his posture, can see the sadness in his form. And yet, his words only fill you with a hot anger that bubbles out of you before you can swallow it down.

“I don’t know why you would be,” you challenge, “being that you didn’t even respect me enough to give me a proper reason.”

Jungkook huffs at that; you think he’s resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Did it really matter?”

“Yes.”

He gnaws at his lip again, no longer looking at you, and his lack of an answer only riles you up further.

“Was there someone else?” you demand, causing him to flinch. It was the same thing you asked him when he told you he thought you should break up, standing in almost this exact same spot.

“No,” he murmurs after a moment. “There wasn’t anyone else.” He pushes a hand through his dark, silky hair. “There hasn’t been anyone else since either.”

This surprises you. Jungkook is, in your eyes, the handsomest man you have ever come face-to-face with, but even from an objective standpoint, he is exceedingly attractive. There is no doubt in your mind that he would easily be able to land a woman if he so desired.

“So then why?”

He sets his jaw, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows and fixes his stare out the window. And it’s this final refusal, this steadfast dedication to not explaining himself, that finally has tears tracking down your cheeks.

The sight of you crying has his attention snapping back your way, hands reaching out as if to hold you.

“Don’t touch me,” you gasp, recoiling until you’re out of reach. “I…I hate you.”

It almost seems as if your voice lands physically, and Jungkook staggers back like you’ve slapped him, remorse immediately wiggling its way between your ribs. You know you don’t mean the words even as they fall from your mouth, but it feels pointless to take them back now, the sentiment already thrown out there and hovering in the hollow space between you.

Jungkook muddles towards the couch–more of a defeated slump dragging his steps than anger–and you think he’s going to sit down before he whirls back towards you at the last second.

“The gala,” he mutters. “That’s when I decided.”

You know which one he’s talking about. Hosted by your medical school to celebrate the end of the academic year, it had been a night of food, dancing, and socializing. You had, of course, brought him as your date and introduced him to your friends and classmates, excited to finally allow him to put faces to names. As you comb through your memories of the night, you can’t pinpoint any warning signs, only remembering the way he’d smiled at you throughout. The way he’d pulled you close and danced you around the room.

“I don’t…I don’t understand.”

He rakes his fingers through his hair again, tossing strands of night over his forehead. A sad chuckle looses itself into the thick air of the room, and the final dregs of his resolve flicker away. “I realized that I didn’t deserve to stand next to you. That you could do much better than me.”

Whatever you thought his reason had been–whatever theories or thoughts had kept you up night after night for the past year–this is not even close to what you expected. And while you always thought finally receiving an answer would be freeing, would offer you some semblance of understanding, you’re surprised at the rage that boils in the pit of your stomach, bile rising in your throat.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” you growl, taking an angered step towards him. “You were feeling insecure, and you made the decision to break up with me without even thinking to, I don’t know, discuss it with me first?”

His hand goes to the back of his neck now, embarrassment showing its face as he peers at you from under his lashes. “I was stupid–”

“No, shit.”

“But can you blame me?” he presses. “There we were: you, about to be this incredible doctor with all of your doctor friends…” His voice falters, sorrow lacing his tone. “And I’m just a tattoo artist.”

The defeatist way he says it helps to dampen your ire some, even if a heap of frustration remains–the sad shape of his doe eyes softening your edges.

“Just a tattoo artist,” you repeat. “Jungkook, I have always been so, so proud of you. I was never anything but proud to have you as my partner. You must’ve known that.”

His teeth worry his lip, and though he nods, he doesn’t seem fully convinced.

So you continue on, closing the distance between you a fraction more. “You started your own business from nothing. And I saw how hard you worked: to get the building, to hire other artists, train your apprentices.” You shake your head–half in irritation, half in awe. “And look at you now! You’re thriving. The last I heard, if you want an appointment at Golden Tattoo, you need to book months in advance.”

His eyes are alight now, some hidden emotion glimmering under the surface, but he stays quiet as he soaks in your words.

“So how can you possibly act like you weren’t enough?” you push. “You are amazing, Jungkook. And I never gave a shit about any job comparisons people may have made.” One more step, and suddenly you’re almost chest-to-chest. As always, you’re unable to resist the pull of his gravity. Yanked right back into his orbit. “I only wanted you. I’ve only ever wanted y–”

He cuts you off with his mouth, strong hands snagging your hips to pull you against him, and your own fingers reflexively tangle in his black hoodie as your subconscious gives itself over to him. Like it’s been waiting for this.

“I’m not. Not thriving,” he mumbles against your lips. “Not without you. Been miserable without you.”

And in spite of your anger, in spite of the fact that you were ready to kick him out a mere hour ago, you find yourself kissing him back, relishing the slick glide of his tongue as he licks into your mouth.

You startle as the backs of your knees suddenly bump against the couch, and then Jungkook is spinning as he settles onto the plush seat, pulling you along to straddle him. He sucks at your neck until you can feel the blood blooming under your skin, painting you like the pretty ink on his arm.

Speaking of.

The fabric of his hoodie whispers as you pull it up and over his back and head, tossing it over his shoulder and into a corner. His arms now bare to you, you gloss over his tattoos with your eyes and fingers until you find the one you’d picked out for him; the lovely orange of the flower petals seem to glow even in the dim light of the room.

“Beautiful,” you whisper.

“Just like you.”

You look at him then, the twinkle of tiny galaxies in his eyes betraying his hope. And before you can go any further, you need confirmation.

“You left.”

“I did.” Fingertips press lightly against your waist like he’s afraid you might be the one to disappear now. “I’m sorry.”

“Jungkook, if…” You lick your lips. Can almost taste his regret. “If we do this and you leave again–”

“If we do this, I'm not going anywhere,” he insists, tugging your hips down to grind against him and ghosting a kiss at your jaw. “Just wanna be here with you. Just want you.”

And it’s all you need to hear.

You shed the cotton shirt you had thrown on after your shower and move to yank his own off, tossing it in the same corner as his hoodie. The muscles of his pecs and abs shift under your hands, burning hot where your fingers trace the contours of his torso. 

“God, I missed this,” he groans as he buries his face between your breasts, nipping at the skin there before laving the spot with his tongue.

You’d agree–echo the sentiment that your body has been aching for this–if not for the fact that you’re too busy trying to get the two of you naked, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your shorts.

But a tattooed hand covers yours, eases it away to take its place. “No,” he rumbles. “Let me.”

Wide palms and long fingers span your hips and thighs, grasping as much skin as possible even as he drags your shorts and panties down your legs and helps to steady you as you kick them off. They join the tangle of his own clothes

“Fucking gorgeous,” he growls at the sight of you finally naked in front of him. And with such speed that it almost seems like it’s involuntary, an impulse outside of his control, he’s immediately stroking at the apex of your thighs.

“Baby, this wet for me already?” A breathy sigh passes from his mouth to yours, almost laughing at the ease with which he glides through your folds. “Hell, I could just–”

A finger slips in and you gasp, Jungkook smiling wickedly at you as he quickly adds a second and curls them against your walls. You force your eyes closed as they roll back in your head, and you keel forward, babbling incoherently against the line of his collarbone.

“Use your words, love; you can do it.” He says it as if his fingers aren’t currently buried in you down to the knuckle. As if he’s not making you see stars behind your eyelids right now.

You choke down a breath, desperate for the oxygen. “Insane,” you pant. “I said you’re fucking insane.”

“Only for you,” he says before sliding his digits out of you and dipping them into his mouth. He moans at the taste, and even with his lips closed tightly, you can see the way he’s working his tongue around each finger, unwilling to waste a single drop of your essence.

Like you said. Insane.

He gives you a moment to catch your breath until you’re the one who’s getting impatient, hastily undoing his belt and tearing it from his pants with a hiss. But as you shift off of him so he can slither out of his pants and boxers–his length springing free to slap against his smooth stomach–you’re hit with an untimely realization.

“Jungkook, I don’t have condoms.”

He freezes, the color draining from his face (though admittedly, that may be because all of his blood has clearly gone south). The two of you stare at each other for a long second before he suddenly leans over, rummaging back through his pants pockets. He pulls out his wallet, rifles through it, then tosses it across the room in frustration, head tilting back against the couch as he groans at the ceiling.

“Fuck, me neither.”

You chew at your lip, a loaded quiet settling over the room as Jungkook wipes a hand over his face.

“I’m still on birth control,” you whisper, and Jungkook whips his head around, eyes wide and questioning like he’s not sure he heard you right. But you don’t repeat yourself, only hold his stare until he’s tentatively reaching out to graze his fingertips along your thigh.

“I told you. There’s been no one else.” His expression is earnest, eager. You trust that he’s telling the truth, and yet you also know that if you refused him, if you said you weren’t comfortable, he wouldn’t push.

So you swing a leg back over his lap, drag your wet folds against his cock. He moans, gripping your thighs hard, but he leans in to bite at your lower lip with a growl before pulling back to search your face.

“You?”

It hurts that he even feels the need to ask. Because how could you even want someone else? Who could possibly measure up?

You brush a reassuring, barely-there kiss against his already swollen lips. “No one else for me either.”

This seems to please him, but you still see hesitation behind his eyes as he asks, “What about the guy downstairs?”

A drunken mistake was what that was. All sloppy lips and fumbling hands that had left you feeling more empty than anything, and which resulted in you sending Cheol away before he had even gotten a peek at your bedroom.

“We made out once,” you admit, hating that you’re even having to think about another man when Jungkook is here in front of you. “But nothing else happened.”

“Good,” he grunts, but his fingers dig into your backside like he’s trying to reclaim you. And just a fraction of a second later, he’s devilishly tonguing his lip ring as he winds his palm back to bring it down harshly against the meat of your ass, the smack echoing between the walls almost endlessly.

“Ride me, baby.”

You’re quick to line him up–desperate, at this point, to have him inside of you–and begin to ease yourself down slowly, trying to give your body the space and time to adjust to the burning stretch of his girth. He’s always filled you to your absolute limit, tested the furthest boundaries of how much your body can take with his size.

“Yesss,” he hisses, nipping at your neck once again. “You’re doing great, love. Always take me so fucking well.”

You gasp as he bottoms out, struggling to catch your breath with the relentless push of him. If you were a betting woman, you’d put money on your intestines being somewhere in the area of your throat right now.

He wraps his inked arm around your waist, continuing to whisper his praises against the shell of your ear as he starts to guide your body up and down. Intoxicated by the smooth slide of his length, you soon find your pace, and your shared moans fill the room–the whole city probably able to hear you right now.

You move that way until the pressure building becomes too much and your legs start to tremble, quivering against Jungkook’s own muscled thighs.

“It’s okay; I’ve got you.” He bands his arms around you and presses you to his chest, holding you in place so he can thrust upwards.

Hard.

You’re practically screaming now, burying your teeth into his shoulder so as to muffle your sounds and not scare the neighbors. It’s all you can do to hold on for dear life as he rapidly pistons his cock inside of you, the slap of your hips like a metronome.

It builds and builds until it breaks and you’re falling apart in his arms, the spasms of your inner walls pulling him over the edge with you as he empties his seed deep inside.

The silence that follows in unlike the others you previously shared this evening–tension traded for serenity as you sit on the couch holding each other, you still contentedly stuffed full of him. He traces the ridges of your spine in a soothing pattern that has your eyelids drooping, your cheek resting against the warm skin of his neck.

“I missed this,” you whisper once your brain has finally remembered how to construct human speech.

“I missed you.”

You pull back so you can rest your forehead against his and gently run a finger over the lines of his face. “Where do we go from here?”

He hums. Tucks a stray hair behind your ear. “Take it day by day?” he suggests. “We don’t need to rush into anything if you don’t want to.”

“Mm, that does seem like a problem for tomorrow.”

A dark eyebrow quirks, teasing. “And what about right now?”

“Now?” you ask. “Do you remember the way to the bedroom? Or…” You shift your hips, already feeling him twitching inside of you.

“Or.” He jolts forward to capture your mouth in a hot kiss, and you smile into it, whole again. “Or sounds good.”

a/n: pls like, reblog, reply, and/or send an ask if you enjoyed! <3