#prepare your wallets lol

[ndostairlyrium]

A little preview of the pic I've done for @daflowerzine 👀

You need to keep an eye on that, because of the care and quality of the writing and the illustrative works inside 💛🌸

[euthymiya]

it always ends with i love you ft. wriothesley — in which you, a small floral shop owner, meet the duke of meropide by a chance encounter—and then you meet a bunch more too…but not so much by chance anymore

contains: 20.3k work count (please give it a chance i put my soul into it) ; female reader ; mature content—not suitable for minors ; strangers to friends to lovers ; flower shop au + florist reader ; reader has a small backstory regarding her dead father ; use of canon flowers and and lore, meaning i did my best so please be gentle on me with my botany facts ; heavy spoilers for wriothesley’s story quest and backstory, explores themes such as murder and hints at child exploitation and trafficking—all pertaining to his adopted home life ; slight oc’s because i gave a few of his adopted siblings names ; a fun neuvillette and clorinde appearance! ; a not so fun childe appearance + jealousy ; a short argument ; love confessions and getting together ; wriothesley is scared of love (anyone who had to kill their parents should be tbh) ; reader sits on his lap/lays on him ; there’s sex in every scene lol i got carried away—includes vaginal fingering ; cunnilingus ; nipple play ; hand + blow jobs ; unprotected vaginal sex ; creampie

the first time you meet wriothesley is by accident.

he doesn’t exactly come up to the surface regularly—he sees the sun frequently enough to remember what sunlight feels like if he tries to recall, but not enough that most people of fontaine would know he’s the duke of meropide just by looking at him.

he likes it that way. the duke is no small title, and he’d prefer the trip through the streets of the court without being stopped for idle chit-chat.

he doesn’t intend on stopping on his way to the palais, but you’re a bit of a unique circumstance.

he hears the smashing sound of something breaking before the scream, quickly glancing over his shoulder at the noise. nothing could have prepared him for a flower shop to be the source of such chaos—what could be chaotic about selling petals on a stem?

except you’re clumsily chasing after a man as he stumbles past your door, knocking over the potted plants on display in the process as you follow him.

the look of distress on your face as the pot falls and shatters compels him to investigate the scene. (of course, there’s a note of distress on your face before the pot falls, but the way it deepens when it does is almost criminal. your face is too lovely to have such creases in your forehead, even if he won’t admit as much out loud).

“stop! please,” you call, “you haven’t paid for those!”

thievery. wriothesley knows a thing or two about pocketing things that don’t belong to him.

first, it’s because he spends a portion of his life on the streets, surviving more than living. those moments reduce him down to a simple pocket thief at times. (he had standards for his crimes: never too much and only enough to survive for a bit. always from someone who dresses expensively and looks like they’re comfortable enough not to feel the damage to their wallets. and, of course, never from women).

second, it’s because people, on the streets or in the fortress, love to steal from those who are weak and vulnerable. people who are sleeping are of that classification of individuals, so wriothesley learns how to keep his things hidden and how to be a light sleeper. he’s never had too many things that are precious to him, of course, but he owns little enough that he’d notice his losses harshly should they come.

he hates thievery. partly because it reminds him of his past and the darkness that taints it, but mostly because it always involves someone innocent who doesn’t deserve to lose. not even a little.

his feet carry him over to the scene before he can stop himself—not that he would stop himself even if he did have control over his body, but it’s just that this particular circumstance seems to have him in some sort of trance. one that won’t allow him to look away from your face.

“please,” you follow the man past your shop’s door, “those are the last of my glaze lilies—i promised them in an order!”

the man running doesn’t seem to care about your pleas, snickering as he turns to give you an amused look, as if your distress is entertaining. he doesn’t make it far, though, before he bumps into a muscled chest.

“what the—”

wriothesley cuts him off, raising a brow. “i do believe the lovely lady here has asked for her flowers back. or did you miss that part?”

“and just who do you think you are, mister?” the man barks, glaring wriothesley up and down. (it’s a bit funny, considering he’s much shorter, so it takes a tad bit of effort on his part to give wriothesley the menacing once over it’s meant to be). “i don’t remember asking you what she asked.”

“oh me?” wriothesley cracks his knuckles casually, shrugging as he says, “duke of meropide at your service. i must say, i’m not very popular around here—not a lot of people know me, it seems.”

your jaw drops. the man’s face pales—which is a nice confirmation, at least, that he does have some sort of a brain.

“w-what? and just why would i believe that? you expect me to think the fortress’s duke is just prancing around the streets as if he hasn’t got duties? as if!”

wriothesley’s lips quirk up at the edges as he hums, fishing through the pocket of his shirt before he pulls out an envelope, sealed with the stamp of the iudex himself. there’s writing on it in clear letters, bold and italicized, as if just to mock the man.

to: duke wriothesley

from: iudex neuvillette

“that clear things up for you?” wriothesley asks, traces of a cheeky glint in his eyes as he raises a brow.

instantly, the man is clasping his hands, head bowing as a string of incoherent apologies flows past his shaky lips. “i-i’m sorry! i’ve never done anything like this before, you can check! my records are clean! i-it was a moment of weakness, but it won’t happen again, sir. p-please don’t take me to monsieur neuvillette. or court. or—”

“your first thieving gig, and you picked flowers?” wriothesley snorts, “i almost don’t want to bring you to court just save myself from the embarrassment.”

the man flushes, bashfully shrinking as he mumbles, “w-well i just…i just wanted to get flowers for my girlfriend for our anniversary and these…th-they’re her favorite you know? b-but they’re hard to come by since liyue is so far and…and the lady wouldn’t sell them to me so…you know…i uh…” the man trails off, wilting as wriothesley’s stares down, unimpressed. “i promised her i’d get them,” he adds, as if it’ll help.

“what a tragic sob story you got there,” wriothesley deadpans. “your girlfriend must love your honesty.”

“if i may interrupt,” you call from behind, making both men glance over to where you stand some distance away.

wriothesley forgot you were there, truthfully. but now that he’s taking in your appearance up closer, he can’t help but appreciate it. your features complement each other well—like an assortment of carefully arranged flowers, hand-picked one by one by celestia themselves.

“hello miss,” he nods, raising a hand to half-wave at you, “don’t worry, i’ll get this man out of your hair in a moment with your flowers too. just give me a sec—”

“no,” you say softly, “no it’s okay. he can keep some of them…i’m sure i can make do with a shorter hand than usual.”

he blinks. you couldn’t have possibly offered to let your thief keep his earnings at your expense, could you? he can’t decide if you're just that naive, just that foolish, or truly just that kind.

maybe all three, if he’s being honest.

“uh…are you sure?” he tilts his head in disbelief, “you want to let him keep the flowers?”

“partially,” you confirm, “it’s alright. everyone deserves flowers on their anniversary. especially their favorite.”

wriothesley decides you’re just that kind—and in some ways, it’s worse than being a bit on the naive side. at least you can sharpen yourself to become untrusting and skeptical if naivety gets you in trouble. kindness is as easy to take advantage of as it is to take for granted, and it’s not just something people like you can turn off like a switch.

“oh, thank you!” the man exclaims as soon as the words come out of your mouth, not wasting a second to grin at you as he says, “you’re really so kind! if you’d just tell the duke here that it was all a misunderstanding and that you’d like to drop all charges, then i’ll be on my way with partial the flowers—”

“make no mistake,” your hands find your hips as your face hardens with a certain strictness even he’s a bit startled by, “if you should come here and cause trouble again, i have the duke’s word to press double the charges next time. i would tread carefully if i were you—don’t ever let me catch you stealing from me again.”

wriothesley stares at you and gapes. he’s sorely mistaken about you—kindness is not the absence of your spitefulness, and the man shrinks back as you stare down at him expectantly.

“o-of course,” he says quickly, “it won’t happen again.”

“good,” you nod, “that’ll be five hundred mora, please.”

“b-but—”

“is there a problem?” you raise a menacing brow, making the man scramble to shake his head. 

“wow,” wriothesley snorts as the man scampers off after fishing enough mora from his pockets, “i suppose i underestimated your ability to handle the situation, miss.”

“i think i owe a good portion of my success to you, your grace,” you bow your head slightly, unable to meet his eyes as you nervously chuckle, “i don’t usually have robberies. the people in this area are familiar with me. they’re quite kind—i’ve never had someone as stubborn as him.”

“well, rest assured, if he bothers you again, you can come to find me for my word at court.”

“i’ll hold onto the offer,” you grin.

that chance meeting becomes history after a while. he comes and pays you a visit every time he’s at the surface, which isn’t all too often, but often enough that you start to look forward to at least one routine visit per month. sometimes, he teases you about whether or not you’ve had new thieves pay you a visit. other times, you make use of his strong hands and built muscles and cheekily order him around to move heavy bags of fertilizer around. 

he likes tea, you learn—he takes a very piqued interest in the jars of dried petals you keep on shelves, ones you tell him are good for making blends for tea, or to boil with water for natural remedies, or to make syrups for beverages like lemonade. it’s a slow, steady, blossoming friendship until, all at once, you feel incomplete without the routine visit from the fortress’s warden. you’re too reliant on the familiarity of explaining flowers, their origins, what stories they share, and what they mean—and likewise, you feel incomplete without his stories from the fortress, what the inmates are up to, and what changes he’s developing to make things better for the people under his wing. 

you like to think he feels the same way; otherwise, he wouldn’t come around as much as he does. 

sometimes he walks you home, and sometimes you invite him for tea. you drink coffee, but you don’t mind the trouble of brewing two beverages if it means some extra time with him in your cozy little home.

like today, where he sits comfortably at your dining table while you cut fresh bulle fruit as tea steeps in the hot water. he watches you with fond eyes, listening as you ramble intently about your recent endeavors at your flower shop.

“—and i think i’ve finally managed to grow a cactus from sumeru long enough to bloom my own henna berries,” you grin, looking at him brightly, pride settling into the crinkles of your eyes, “it did take some trial and error—fontaine rains far too often for cacti to survive, but this one i managed to grow indoors.”

“couldn’t you just get the berries delivered from sumeru? since you have plenty delivered from there already,” he asks in amusement. you huff, rolling your eyes as you walk over, setting the platter of fruit down before him. 

“of course, you’d want to take such a simple route—but plants are far more rewarding when you grow them yourself, you know. plus, every fruit i’ve managed to grow on my own here in fontaine has had a bit of a unique flavor as opposed to ones grown from their original nation. i’d like to see if that’s the case with these berries, too.”

“well, if that’s the case,” he hums, taking a slow sip from the tea you’ve brewed for him—it’s perfectly made to his liking, with two sugar cubes and piping hot just as you’ve learned he prefers. he closes his eyes and lets out a content sigh as the warmth trickles down his throat. “let me try one when they’re ready.”

“of course,” you brighten excitedly, as though the prospect of someone to share such a moment with is one you look forward to. there’s something that tickles in his chest, right beneath his ribcage, at the sight of your wide grin.

you chatter until the sun sets, warm, honeyed rays of orange and pink pouring through your windows and painting his skin vibrant hues. it’s about time for him to leave—you can tell even before he clears his throat and stands, grabbing the plate and mug and heading to the sink.

“i should go,” he says kindly, washing the dishes with so much familiarity that it almost feels domestic and natural to have him here. you shake the thought out of your head as quickly as it enters your head. “thank you for having me this evening.”

“oh, i think we’re past the formalities,” you huff a small laugh, “you’re doing my dishes.”

“technically they’re my dishes,” he chuckles, “since i did dirty them.”

you hum, walking over to where he stands as he turns the faucet off—until a small twist of your ankle has you gasping as you stumble forward. you brace yourself for the impact of the hardwood floor, but instead, you’re met with a firm yet soft chest as strong arms wrap around your waist and catch you before you can fall.

“oh,” you breathe as you open your eyes, staring into him with just as widened pupils as him. 

“are you okay?” he asks quietly, voice just barely audible as he whispers to you—he’s so close, so painfully close, you think the only reason you heard him was because of the proximity. 

“yeah,” you nod. it’s hardly a nod, really—if you were to move your head too much, you’d risk brushing your nose against his. or maybe even your lips. “i’m fine. thank you.”

“yeah, no problem,” his eyes are still trained on yours, and neither of you can find it in yourselves to pull away. you can’t, and he definitely doesn’t, and nothing seems to give as you stare at each other. you’re pressed against his chest, and his arms are wrapped around you, and there’s a strange beating in both of your chests that you think you can just barely make out.

they almost seem to beat in sync, rapid and untamed. so, so fast, you wonder if it’s even healthy.

you don’t know who does it first—or maybe it was the both of you. all you know is that one second, you’re staring at each other, and the next, your heads are tilted so that your lips meet tentatively. he hesitates at the first brush of your lips, but your hands cup his cheeks and pull him forward, making his eyes flutter shut as he shakily breathes into your mouth. it’s so slow, so dizzyingly slow, that you wonder if time has just stopped altogether to grant you a moment with no interruptions. 

he fits perfectly against you, the soft flesh of his cheeks spilling over your palms, your thumb rubbing affectionately into the skin as he nips at your lips, kissing you like he’s waited his whole life to feel you. the curves of his mouth connect with the curves of yours like pieces of a puzzle, like he was carved to match you from the same stone. 

you’re not sure how long you kiss like that, but slowly, it grows needier, more quick and hasty as your hands leave his cheeks to wander to his hair and gently tug at the strands as his hands wander to your waist and lower back, feeling every curve of you as he groans into your mouth. 

he tries to pull away, but you chase after him, unwilling to let go.

“w-wait,” he mumbles, “maybe we should stop—”

“you really want to?” you ask breathlessly, and all it takes is one glance down at your glossy, swollen lips for him to close his eyes and shiver.

“no,” he admits hoarsely, “i don’t. are…are you sure about this?”

“yes,” you whisper instantly.

he doesn’t waste a moment, quickly pulling you into your bedroom as you both collapse on the mattress. you climb onto his lap, crotch pressing against the semi-hardened erection in his pants, the press of your heat against his bulge earning a low, drawn-out groan from him that shoots straight to your clit with a dull ache. 

“sweetheart,” he says in between kisses, making you inhale sharply at the pet name, “you’re killing me here.”

“okay,” you smile against his mouth, pecking it sweetly before you add, “then let me do something about that.”

he doesn’t expect you to drop down between his legs, face to face with the obvious tent in his pants—wriothesley is a gentleman, a giver before he is a taker. his first instinct is to protest as he opens his mouth and starts to say, “hang on—you don’t have to—”

“i want to,” you pout, looking up at him, “please? i want to.”

when was the last time someone looked up at him like that, staring up at him like pleasing him is the only way they’ll survive? he doesn’t recall, doesn’t think it’s ever happened, in fact. he groans, head falling back against your bed frame as he nods slowly. 

“okay,” he concedes, lifting his hips up so you can pull his pants down his legs, leaving him in his boxers. there’s a wet patch where his tip meets the cloth, the evidence of pre cum drooling from his swollen head that makes you hum in satisfaction as you leave a tender kiss on the spot through the fabric. he gasps, hips jolting as his thighs clench at the teasing touch.

“can i?” you purr, hand rubbing soothingly over his tense thigh as he swallows and nods, looking anywhere but at you as he breathes harshly. 

“y-yes,” he grunts, “please.”

you’re freeing his cock as soon as he utters the plead, letting him spring free and meet the cool air. he hisses, gritting his teeth as his chest rises and falls erratically, labored breaths that he tries to use to calm himself as he stands painfully hard between his legs. 

“pretty,” you murmur, entranced at the sheer size of him—he’s flushed an almost painful red at his thick tip, leaking enough pre cum that you’d think he might have already had his release with the way it runs down the side of his hardened length. 

your hand wraps gently around the tip, thumb smearing the pre cum along the tip before coating the rest of his cock, using it as lubrication for the steady stroke of your hand along the girth. he throws his head back, groaning as his hips buck into your touch before he stops himself, frantically trying to keep himself still and let you take your time. 

“f-fuck,” he rasps, “that…that feels nice.”

“yeah?” you breathe, smiling as you press a kiss to his thigh as he chokes on a grunt while your hand slowly pumps him. “am i doing it right?”

“you’re doing just fine,” he assures, biting his lip as he finally can’t keep himself from bucking impatiently into your fist any longer, “feel free to do more, though.”

you giggle, pressing a soft kiss to his lip before gliding your tongue through his slit and watching as he melts against your bed frame at the gesture, body loosening up like he’s limbless as you slowly take him into your mouth, swallowing around his cock and bobbing your head, pumping the rest with your hand that you can’t fit down your throat. 

“shit,” he curses, hand cupping the back of your head as he guides you up and down his length, moaning your name when you swirl your tongue around the tip, “you…you’re so good at this, yeah? take me so well in that pretty mouth of yours.”

you hum around him, making him cry out at the vibrations around his cock, one hand running through his hair as he tries to keep himself grounded, the other still cradling the back of your head. he’s a gentleman, though, living up to one just as much as he always lets on to be when he doesn’t force you to take more of him by pushing your head down or burying himself deeper into your throat by fucking his hips into your mouth. he lets you do things at your own pace, and you think it’s enough when you feel the telling signs of his release as his panting grows harsher and his cock twitches in your mouth.

“w-wait, wait,” he says frantically, “i’ll cum—i’ll cum. not yet, not until i have you.”

you reluctantly pull away, a trail of spit connecting from your lips to his tip that makes him close his eyes and groan, clenching his jaw as his near-orgasm dies down to nothing again. his cock is achingly hard, hot and swollen and throbbing after denying himself for the sake of feeling you.

“c’mere,” he motions for you to climb onto his lap. you do, sitting on his thigh as he slowly trails a thumb under your shirt, rubbing the skin with a feather-light, heated touch that has you shivering against him. “you sure you want this?”

“i want it,” you whisper, leaning to press a kiss to his lips that he reciprocates with a low hum of approval, “with you.”

“such a sweet way with words,” he murmurs, slowly pulling your blouse over your head and unclasping your bra, tossing them to the side as he marvels at the view of your tits. “such a sweet view, too. beautiful.” 

you flush at the praise, looking away. but his hands grab at your breasts, large as they cup them and massage lightly, thumbs running over the pert nipples as you shudder and breathe out a light gasp. 

“wriothesley, need more—”

“give me a moment,” he shushes you, “and then i’ll give you what you want.”

he admires you like that for a bit, sat on his thigh as your eyes flutter shut and his thumbs tease your nipples, wetness pooling in your core that he can feel on his thigh—you’d be embarrassed, you really would, but it’s not as though his cock is any less leaky at the head. 

finally, he inhales sharply, sitting up slightly to unbutton his shirt, revealing the scars down his chest before he helps you out of your pants. you stare at the harsh, jagged lines that pain his skin, raised, discolored skin, the only evidence of some brutal, vicious past that he survived. 

your thumb traces down the lines, making him shiver at the fragileness behind the touch.

“where’d you get this?” you murmur, staring at him curiously. 

“hmm? oh the scar on my body? it's from a gash i got while battling a gigantic undersea monster that tried to take over the fortress of meropide…” he stares at you cheekily as you blink, looking at him unimpressed. “hah, just kidding.”

“do you ever take anything seriously?” you shake your head and huff, but there’s endearment on your face as you fight back a smile.

“on the contrary, milady,” he murmurs, grabbing your hips and pulling you back slightly, exposing your drenched cunt before he slowly sinks two fingers into your folds and curls them against the back of your walls, “i take this quite seriously.”

you gasp at the feeling, his digits rubbing against your walls and angling to hit a sensitive, achingly sweet spot at the back of your cunt. it’s precise, the way he pumps his fingers into you, slowly sinking in a third digit while you mewl and throw your head back. the heel of his palm catches against your clit, the sweet friction building your orgasm up slowly, slowly, until suddenly, you’re near the edge all at once. 

“c’mon, don’t hold back now,” he drawls, voice low and sweet and so attractive, you feel like the sound of him alone is enough to send you tumbling over the edge, “why don’t you be a sweet little thing and let go for me, hm?”

you do—instantly, you do, crying out his name is choked garbles as he works you through your orgasm with his fingers, still thrusting into you with a precise pace. finally, when you’re done clenching around him, he pulls his digits out, the slickness of your pussy coating them as he hums in satisfaction. 

“think you’re ready?” he asks softly, cradling the back of your head with his good hand as he pulls you closer, “or do you need one more from me?”

“i’m ready,” you huff impatiently, “i need you, need to feel you already.”

“okay, okay,” he laughs, amused but not anymore patient himself as his cock pulses between his legs, “i’m not trying to wait any longer, either. do you have a…uh…y-you know…”

you snort at the way he trails off awkwardly, flushing at the thought of asking for a condom as if he’s not completely nude under you. “no,” you giggle, pinching his cheek as he huffs, “but we don’t need one. it’s fine.”

“okay,” he nods slowly. his hands grab at your hips, firm yet so gentle with the way they lift you up and guide you to angle over his swollen cock, slowly helping you sink down on him as he chokes on a grunt when his head pushes past your folds. 

you gasp as soon as he intrudes into your tight hole, splitting you open on his thick girth as you take him inch by inch until you’re sat on his lap completely, buried completely with his length as his jaw clenches at the tight squeeze of you around him. 

“wri—wriothesley,” you sob brokenly, unable to say anything else besides cracked repeats of his name. he’s so big, buried so deep, and leaving you so full, you’re not sure if you have it in you to fuck onto him from this position. 

he takes things into his own hands, though—roughly grabbing your hips and pulling you back before helping you sink back down on him again, rolling his own hips upward to bury deeper into you. your head spins, and all you can think to do is weakly plant your hands onto his shoulders before you roll your hips, grinding down on his length and sloppily fucking yourself onto him.

he bullies past your folds, curves deliciously into the most intimate parts of you, fat tip slamming against the soft, sensitive spot that makes you see white. pleasure burns up your spine, building a coil in your belly that grows tighter, tighter, tighter—so close yet so far from snapping and letting you plummet into your second release. 

“that’s it,” he grunts, “fuck—you’re so tight, so good. i’ve…i’ve never felt anything so good. it’s like you were made for me, weren’t you? take me so well, fit around me so well.”

his hand moves to your clit, thumb pressing against the sensitive bundle of nerves and rubbing merciless circles against it as you mewl, head burying into his neck as your nails claw at his shoulder. everything is so good—so hot and filthy and leaves you impatiently desperate for some form of release. the friction of his cock dragging along every ridge leaves your mind hazed, and the harsh press of his tip against your sweet spot leaves your vision blurry. 

you’re not sure how you even have the strength to rock yourself onto his stiff length, but somehow you manage, and he seems keen on helping you, too, with rough, bruising hands that grip your waist with a punishingly tight grasp.

“c-can’t hold on much longer,” you cry, voice a strangled sob that’s muffled into his skin, “i’m s-so close. please.”

“me too,” he pants, voice just as strained as yours as he moans through a cracked voice when you clench down on his particularly tightly, “me too, sweetheart. i’m right there with you, alright? let go—c-c’mon.”

once more, you cum around him—this time on his cock instead of his fingers, and if the first time felt good, the second time is devastating. your vision practically goes white as your walls spasm around him, slick and dripping with your release and mixing with his own as he follows you not long after. his cock jolts, pumping hot, sticky ropes of his seed deep into you, and both of your bodies are slumped against one another as you barely roll your hips, sloppy pace with no rhythm as you focus on getting yourselves through the ecstasies of your orgasms. 

his thumb is still pressing against your clit, and your hands have left his shoulders to bury into his sweaty hair, tugging fiercely at the dark strands and making him groan at the mix of pain and pleasure. 

finally, you both ride out the final few waves, him slumping against your bed as you fall against his sturdy chest, face still buried into his neck. sweat clings to your skin, but you don’t mind the feeling of his damp skin against yours, not when the warmth of your body makes the afterglow feel so sweet. your fingers thread through his hair, soothing over his scalp with the rake of your nails where you’d just tugged so harshly, and his palms glide up and down your hips, rubbing gentleness back into the parts where he dug bruises along the skin. 

“wait, is that watering can supposed to be a dog?” he asks out of the blue, making you lift your head and look over your shoulder.

“yes,” you quirk a brow, watching as he lets out a small snort as he looks at the watering can by your plants in wonder.

“it’s pretty ugly.”

“rude!” you gasp, pulling away slightly as he shakes under you in laughter, “i think it’s adorable!”

“do you now?” he bites his lips, attempting to suppress the smile that threatens to take over, “you have…interesting taste.”

“oh, you’re dead to me,” you spit dramatically, collapsing back against his chest as you bury your head into his neck again. “dead to me, i say.”

“my apologies,” he snickers. his hand rubs slowly into your hip, quietly humming for a moment before he asks, “what made you so passionate about plants?”

“i can’t just really like them?” you challenge.

“sure,” he shrugs, eyeing the watering can again as he smiles, “but you don’t give the impression that you just happen to just really like leaves, and that’s it.”

“there’s more to plants than leaves,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. and then, much gentler this time, “my father was a scholar from sumeru. an herbologist.” your voice is a quiet murmur, a low hum as you speak into his neck while his hands are still rubbing into your hips, “i used to be fascinated by his journals and all the plants he’d seen. he died when i was young, so sometimes…sometimes i try to grow them here in fontaine myself. just to feel close to him.”

“do you?” he asks quietly, staring at the various plants that decorate your small home. it’s cozy, he thinks, so lively and warm that it almost doesn’t feel like you’re the only inhabitant. “do you feel close to him when you do?”

“if it works,” you admit, “it’s not always easy to recreate the same conditions they’re meant to grow in.”

“i think you do an impressive job,” he praises, earning a slow smile from you that he can feel curve into his skin, “i’ve yet to come across a flower shop in fontaine with as much variety as yours.”

“you flatter me, your grace,” you chuckle, pulling away as you stare at him, the tousled hair from where his hand ran through, the swollen bottom lip where his teeth sank in, the flushed skin where heat settled. you take all of it in slowly, admiring him as he looks up at you through lidded eyes.

“do i? i meant it seriously, not in flattery,” he raises a brow and smirks, “if i wanted to try flattery on you, i think i’d have some other choice words.”

“don’t be so insatiable,” you gently swat at his chest, earning a chuckle from him. “will you be able to stop by tomorrow?”

“i’m afraid not,” he sighs, “i have a meeting with some people from the palais tomorrow at the fortress. it’ll run a bit late.”

“oh,” you try to hide the disappointment in your voice, but he seems to sense it instantly. “that’s okay. i just had a blend i thought you might like to try—for tea, that is. it’s um…i dried the petals myself, and it’s new. i thought i’d let you be the first to try it to let me know what you think.”

you try not to giggle at the way he perks up at the mention of tea.

“ah, i’m afraid i won’t have time tomorrow. but…” he coughs, trailing off as he looks away, contemplating his words.

“but…?” you press.

“but…well, i have a few guards returning tomorrow from the surface from a few tasks i gave them. i could have them stop by the shop to escort you down to the fortress if that works for you…it’s okay if you can’t, though! i can always come by sometime this week when my duties aren’t as—”

“that sounds nice,” you cut him off, grinning widely, something close to excitement blooming across your features, brighter than any set of petals in your shop, he thinks. “you can give me an official tour of the fortress, perhaps. i’ve only ever heard about it through stories.”

“as you wish, my lady,” he winks.

he leaves not too long after—you try not to focus on his lingering scent in your sheets once you settle back in after bidding him goodbye. it’s oddly peaceful, being surrounded by him even when he’s not there, and sleep lulls over you quicker than usual. 

the scent is faded by the time you wake up, so you take one last deep breath to inhale it before you set off to get ready for the day, counting down the hours before you get to see him again.

——————————

as promised, a group of fortress guards stop by your shop, politely waiting for you to close up before you join them on their return. 

the fortress is darker than you expected—but not at all as small as your mind anticipated. in fact, it’s huge. you follow the guards, making idle chatter as they take you up an elevator, up, and up, and up—until finally, you finally arrive on the floor of his office. 

you’re so busy taking in all you can of the fortress that by the time they escort you to his office door, you remember why you’re here in the first place. to bring wriothesley dried petals of sweet flowers that you grew yourself—flowers often make for a wonderful tea blend, and learning his passionate liking for the drink makes you feel compelled to share with him every one of the various floral teas you’ve learned about in your time as a florist. 

you knock on the door of his office—except, oddly enough, there’s more than one voice you can make out from the room. you didn’t think his meeting would still be in session by the time you arrived, making you anxiously regret the knock as soon as your knuckles leave the surface of the door.  

but he answers before you can think too much of it. “come in,” his voice calls. 

“your grace,” you hum, stepping in, “if this is a bad time, then i can…”

you trail off. both fontaine’s chief justice and champion duelist stand in his office, gathered around his desk as he sits and sifts through files. of course, wriothesley is a duke, which is no small title by any means, but you’re caught more than a little off guard as you step in and share the room with two of fontaine’s more important figures in the justice system.

“no,” he says casually, “come in, you’re right on time. i was just telling miss clorinde about the delicious tea blend you would bring for her to try. she couldn’t wait a moment longer.”

“if you want to try it so badly, just say so,” she rolls her eyes.

“fine,” he huffs, lips curling into a slight pout, “i’d like to try the tea you promised me. clorinde will pass, though.”

“i think i’ll try it, as well,” she chimes in, suppressing a smile as wriothesley crosses his arms.

“but you just said—”

you giggle, walking over as you hand him the bag with dried petals, grinning at the amusing dynamic, and murmur, “i believe it would be the polite thing to do if you made an extra cup for the madam while making yours.”

“picking her side, are we? such an act of betrayal won’t be forgotten,” he huffs. still, almost as excited as a child opening a present, he opens the bag to add the petals to the tea maker he keeps at his desk. you watch with fondness at the action. “you still owe me a present, by the way. and tea won’t do—i’ve just received a batch.”

“then i suppose i can gift you a new tie,” clorinde hums, eyeing the loosened tie around his neck and making him furrow his brows as he subconsciously straightens it, “something that fits your neck better so you look a bit more put together.”

it’s almost like she sees through the both of you, eyeing between you and him with a hint of a knowing glint in her eyes. wriothesley scowls, giving her a petulant glare.

“there’s nothing wrong with my tie. i look just fine.”

“i do believe it’s a stylistic choice,” neuvillette pipes up from the side, “it doesn’t seem to be an issue with the tie itself.”

you snort at the way the joke flies over his head. “you’re right, monsieur,” you join in the banter, “i do believe his grace has a rather…unique choice of style.”

“i wonder if he ever plans to properly wear the coat he always seems to keep hanging over his shoulders,” clorinde adds, the earlier grin she attempted to fight back now fully curled into her lips. you laugh, much to wriothesley’s dismay.

“perhaps he just values being prepared,” you hum, “one can never tell when the fortress will suddenly be too cold. someone as busy as the duke surely can’t afford the wasted time to go and fetch a coat.”

“ah,” she nods, “i suppose you’re right. he is too busy learning legal codes as of late.”

“i take it that my gift has been useful, then?” neuvillette brightens, turning to a miserable wriothesley as he rubs his temples wearily.

“most helpful,” he sighs, not bothering to explain to the iudex that he’s once more missed the point of the joke. 

“oh, we’re only joking,” you laugh, taking the tea cup sitting at his desk and pouring him a glass of the now freshly brewed tea, “it’s all in good fun, your grace.”

“wriothesley is just fine,” he mumbles, “as you can see, this isn’t a very…formal meeting.” 

he watches as you carefully make his cup, one sugar cube as opposed to his usual two—before he can point it out, however, you beat him to it. “i know you’re particular about your tea. i can see it on your face you’re about to insist i give you two, but this is a very sweet blend as it is. one will suffice.”

“careful when it comes to his tea,” clorinde warns, “he’ll be in a foul mood all day if it doesn’t live up to his standards.”

“not true,” he grumbles. as if to prove a point, he takes a sip, slowly blinking before he looks at you with an awed grin, “it’s lovely. you’re right, it is just perfectly sweet with one cube.”

“perhaps you’re the only person he won’t make a fuss with then,” clorinde teases, “he’s got quite the list of grievances if i make him a cup of tea.”

“that’s because you don’t know how to make proper tea,” wriothesley rolls his eyes, “there’s a set of steps you’re meant to follow, you know.”

“water is a most simple beverage,” the iudex cuts in, “one that has many complexities in flavor, as well. perhaps you should consider it as a fitting option if tea gives you too much trouble.”

“i would hate to think of the wrath the poor inmates would have to face if he were to miss a single tea time,” you grin, fighting back a chuckle as wriothesley takes a tired sip from his cup, resigning himself to his fate as the target of your banter, “water simply won’t do.”

“well, i believe we should be off,” clorinde looks at neuvillette, “perhaps we should leave them to themselves.”

“ah, yes,” the chief justice nods politely, “there are many more files for me to read through at the office.”

“do you ever take the day off?” wriothesley raises a brow, “wouldn’t hurt.”

“even his dreams are of legal cases, i’m sure. he wouldn’t last a day on vacation,” clorinde hums.

“i don’t typically dream when i sleep,” neuvillette frowns, still so serious that you choke on a snort as you try to hold back you giggles. wriothesley looks at you with an amused grin, biting his lip to hide a chuckle himself.

“i’ll be seeing you,” he waves as the two leave, “and hopefully with my present ready next time,” he calls to clorinde with a pointed look. she rolls her eyes, fondly waving as she heads out the door.

“i didn’t know you were friends with such important people,” you murmur as they leave, making him raise a brow as he takes another sip.

“friends isn’t the best title for it—consider us work acquaintances.”

“with banter like that, i hardly believe it,” you chuckle, earning you a half-hearted glare from him over the rim of his tea cup.

“did you have your fun at my expense?” he asks dryly—but there’s no real bite to the words, “it seems you got along quite well with clorinde.”

“monsieur neuvillette is lovely too,” you giggle, “even if he’s not exactly…the earliest to catch onto jokes.”

he laughs at that, setting down his empty cup as he stands, eyeing the door to his office quickly before stepping closer to you, eyes staring down at your lips as you chew on the bottom and wait for him to make his move. 

“thank you for the tea,” he murmurs lowly, lips just barely a millimeter away from yours, “it was quite sweet. i enjoyed it.”

“there are plenty of other floral blends i have for you to try,” you hum. 

he grins, hands finding your waist before he whispers, “surely i couldn’t take all that from you without offering something in return, could i? i wouldn’t want it to seem like i'm taking bribes.”

“oh?” you breathe, grabbing a hold of his tie and tugging him closer until your lips meet his in a slow, heated kiss. it awakens a sick, insatiable heat in your core almost instantly. “what did you have in mind, your grace?”

he groans at the way your voice teasingly lilts at the title, hungrily chasing after your lips again. it’s more tongue than it is anything, messy and almost too scandalous to take place in his office where anyone could knock and come in at a moment’s notice. he seems to know it, too, because slowly, he guides you backward, slow steps that don’t interrupt the lock of your lips until your back meets a door.

“why don’t i show you,” he breathes—and then the doorknob is twisted open, and you’re gently pushed in with an arm curled around your waist to guide you. there’s a bedroom connected to his office, you realize. 

not entirely a shock—you’re sure the duke of the fortress has his own quarters to sleep in away from the other inmates, but it doesn’t surprise you less enough that you don’t pull away to take a glance around. 

it’s empty, mainly. not too many things besides a few scattered files and another tea maker with a few cups surrounding it at a desk in the corner. the sheets are dark grey, plain, and neatly made, with two pillows and nothing else. it has no more than what he needs, no more than what’s necessary. no hints of anything that’s his, anything that makes the room belong to him outside of being a mere sleeping quarters. 

“not one for decor?” you hum, wrapping your arms around his neck as your fingers fiddle with the collar of his shirt.

“i only come here at night to sleep,” he shrugs, “never felt the need.”

“everyone needs a space that’s theirs, don’t you think? even a few flowers would brighten the place up.”

“offering me more business?” he chuckles, making you roll your eyes, “and they’d die. there isn’t much sun down here.”

“i can think of a few options that would thrive,” you murmur.

“so it is business,” he quips. sigh exasperatedly, and he grins cheekily at you before you’re gently pushed to fall onto his bed, his body moving to hover over you as your legs wrap around his waist. his cock is semi-hard through his pants, and you wiggle your hips to press against it, the friction making him groan as you feel him stiffen even more from your actions. 

“i think i’d like my payment now,” you hum, making him raise a brow.

“eager?” he asks, making your hand travel to squeeze at his bulge.

“and you aren’t?” you challenge.

“fuck,” he grunts, shuddering at the feeling, “looks like you got me.”

it happens faster than you can process—the shedding of clothes, the way his fingers slowly sink into you, pumping in and out expertly as your head spins from the way he brushes against your sensitive spots. he’s quick, the way he stretches you apart with his digits, adding a second and third finger with little to no time to waste. you hardly have time to accommodate the third when you feel a familiar ache building up steadily. 

“c-close,” you say shakily, voice brokenly whispering against his mouth as he drinks up your moans, “i’m going to—”

“i know,” he hums, “shh. just let go—you’re doing so well.” 

the praise shatters you—you break at the way he sounds so in awe of you, of the way you suck his fingers into your slick cunt, so tight and wet with every clench. your back arches, and your hips roll into his hand, whimpering as his palm rolls over your sensitive clit. “god,” you gasp, “wriothesley, please.”

“please what?” he drawls, “you already got what you needed.”

“please let me feel you.”

“such a demanding price for some tea,” he sighs, “alright. i guess i can afford it.”

the nudge of his cock against your folds is enough to make you mewl, a sweet, whiny little cry that he groans at—every sound you make leaves an ache shooting up his stiff cock in the form of a twitch, like your every cry calls out to him. he responds with a rough thrust of his hips, burying himself into the depths of you, so deep and so close you can practically feel his pulse alongside yours. 

“so full,” you gasp, panting as you try to adjust to the sheer girth of him. he waits a moment, jaw clenched and teeth grit as he waits for you to nod your head and signal him to move.

“and you’re so tight,” he grunts, moaning softly against your ear as he nibbles on your earlobe, “i wouldn’t mind it if you charged interest either, just so you know. i’ll pay it over as many times as you want.”

“oh be quiet, would you?” you roll your eyes at his words at first, but then they roll back at the feeling of his thick, swollen tip pressing against the deep, sweet spot in the back of your walls. he lets out a breathy laugh, kissing the corner of your mouth so he doesn’t muffle the precious little moan you let out. 

“sure thing,” he hums, “i like listening to you more, anyway.”

“oh,” you gasp, “oh—wriothesley!” his finger teases over your clit, making your walls quiver around him as you feel your second orgasm creep up on you. “w-wait—i’m close.”

“why would i wait?” he asks in amusement, “that’s the idea.”

“t-together,” you whimper, pouting up at him through swollen lips and watery eyes, “please. please.”

he curses, closing his eyes and inhaling shakily at the way you look so fucked out, so drunkenly hazed on pleasure from the drag of his cock along your every ridge. you ask so sweetly—and who is he to deny such an innocent request?

“fuck—okay, sweetheart. fine by me,” he pants, rolling his hips harshly as he works himself to his own orgasm. his thumb teases your clit cruelly, fast and merciless one second, and a slow, bare feather’s touch the next. it keeps you right on the edge, a drooling mess of broken pleas as he finally approaches his own high. “close?”

“so close,” you gasp, twitching as he buries himself deep into you again.

“me too,” his voice cracks, “c-cum with me—please.”

hearing him plead sends you over the edge again—your first orgasm pales in comparison to your second. you didn’t even think that was possible, but the thick of his cock bullying into you is infinitely better than his nimble digits. the blunt head hits all the right spots, curves in all the right angles, and fucks you through your high expertly without even trying. 

you both cry out each other's names like prayers, muffled strings of curses, and breathy gasps that you swallow up between slow, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. finally, when the last few twitches of his cock finish painting his release into you, he slumps on the bed beside your body, body shaking in slight tremors as he catches his breath. 

“you okay?” he asks through a labored voice, “didn’t hurt you?”

“i’m okay,” you breathe, smiling softly. he closes his eyes, relaxing into the mattress, pulling the covers to tuck the both of you in before he stares up at the ceiling, arms folded behind his head while he seems to be deep in thought. “what’re you thinking about?” you murmur.

“just how good you got along with clorinde,” he hums quietly, almost in wonder. “she’s not exactly the easiest to banter with so quickly.”

“well, i guess it’s not too hard if it’s at your expense,” you tease.

“ah, yes,” he sighs, pretending to woefully shake his head, “i’ve been reduced to the butt of the joke one too many times today, it seems.”

he grins to himself at the sound of your quiet laughter, so soft and sweet, so perfectly filling up the quietness in the room, bouncing off the walls and ringing in his ears like a symphony. you stare up at the ceiling yourself, eyeing the pipes, the dark amber metal that makes up his home. it’s quiet like that for a bit—not awkward or uneasy, almost like you’ve known him for ages. almost like this is natural.

“can i ask you something?” you murmur after some time, shifting under the covers to face him. 

he raises a brow, looking at you curiously. “you’re scaring me with that look. going to confess some wicked crime you want me to help you hide?”

“it’s not like that,” you huff, rolling your eyes. carefully, as if treading unknown territories (you are, in all fairness), your fingers find his bicep, running along the skin soothingly. it’s an affectionate touch—you and wriothesley only touch each other for physical pleasure, nothing more. this is new, something you’re freshly navigating with a weak compass that points back and forth between your heart and your head, unsure whether to follow logic or emotion. 

“well, go ahead and ask,” he insists, “you’ve got me curious, anyway.”

“what…what did you serve for? when you were an inmate,” you say quietly. he tenses under your touch, muscles becoming rigid as you instantly regret the question. your fingers pull away at the same time as you start speaking, “it’s okay if you don’t want to answer! i just got curious and—”

his hand catches your retreating wrist, gently pulling it closer, closer, until your hand rests on his chest. this is definitely uncharted territory—but his hand firmly lays over yours as he presses your palm over his bare chest. 

“it’s fine,” he mumbles, “it’s not exactly something people in my inner circle don’t know.”

“oh,” you whisper, “i’ve been promoted to inner circle, huh?”

“you’ve seen me naked,” he snorts, eyeing you with a hint of amused disbelief, “you’ve sucked me off, in fact. i think there’s a special other circle inside the circle just for you.”

“okay, no need to get all…”

“all what?” he teases, waiting for you to finish.

“all uncouth about our activities!” you huff, face feeling hot as he grins.

he laughs, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you against his side so your cheek presses against a muscled pec as his warm hand traces circles into your hip. you gasp slightly at the sudden gesture but relax all too quickly, your own hand moving to rub into his chest slowly, feeling the rough scars and tracing them with your fingertips.

“i was adopted when i was young from an orphanage. when i was a bit older,” he swallows, voice quiet, serious—so oddly vulnerable, you think you’re talking to a new version of him altogether, “i found a diary in my mother’s drawer. i didn’t…i didn’t mean to snoop. i was just looking for some paper for my sister to color with.”

“you had a sister?” you ask softly, looking up to see his jaw tighten slightly. 

“i had quite a few siblings,” he admits, voice strained. “older and younger. my parents would adopt a few children at a time and raise them until they were old enough to be adopted into families of greater means. and then they’d adopt more younger children. i thought they were perfect parents,” his eyes stare off distantly, unfocused as they look up at the ceiling, hand mindlessly wandering along your hip as you listen.

“until…?”

“until i read that diary,” his voice hardens, still strained as he clenches his jaw and swallows thickly again, “they were records. of my older siblings, the ones i thought were adopted off. all of their names were followed by prices, and the ones who didn’t have prices had been crossed off. i didn’t understand until i saw my own name and my brother antoine’s. we had blank spaces next to ours.”

“how come?” you furrow your brows, looking at him in jarred curiosity. 

“because we weren’t sold yet,” he smiles ruefully, “i realized we were being sold off like livestock. and i started to piece together why i had never heard from any of my siblings even when they’d promised to write. i…i never knew what became of them.”

“oh, wriothesley,” you say gently, so delicate, he closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath. you press a soft kiss to his chest under you, hand moving up to cup his cheek, “what awful people.”

“i…i should have kept it to myself,” he whispers shakily, “i didn’t…i couldn’t figure out what to do, so i told antoine—i thought…i figured maybe…” he trails off, eyes closed once more as he breathes heavily, trying to collect the composure he fights so fiercely to keep.

“it’s okay,” you kiss his jaw, “we can forget about it. i’m sorry for—”

“no,” he shakes his head. “i want you to know.”

it should make you feel special—maybe even a little happy that he trusts you enough to want to share. but nothing about this makes you feel anything but pain—you can feel his pain, every inch of it. from the way his hand clasps around your waist in a shaky grip to ground himself to the way his jaw is tight under your lips as they press a soothing kiss to the angle of it. every part of him is in pain, and you can feel it. deep in your own bones, like a lingering ache. one that runs years deep, living in the deepest, most intimate parts of your body.

you don’t mind it, though. you don’t mind sharing his pain, not if it’s him.

“okay,” you nod slowly, “okay.”

he inhales sharply, taking a deep breath before he continues. “i told him because i knew we were next. i thought maybe we could have figured out a plan together. but he asked my mother about the diary, what the prices meant, and why we’d never heard from the others once they’d left. he was gone the next morning—my mother told us he was adopted, but i knew. i knew he was merely disposed of. and it was my fault.”

“it was not your fault,” you turn your head swiftly, looking up at him in disbelief as he scoffs and shakes his head.

“if i hadn’t told him, if i handled it on my own—”

“then what? he would have been fine? you don’t know that, what if he was sold off for something awful? or found out on his own without you? you were a child, and you didn’t know that he’d choose to do that.”

“but i still could have kept quiet,” he chuckles dryly, voice cracking as he adds, “i could have gotten us both out of there. on my own.”

“you shouldn’t have to have done it on your own,” you cup his cheek, bringing him to face you as your forehead presses against his, “you didn’t want to be on your own, did you?”

“no,” he admits, lips trembling, “i didn’t.”

“and that’s okay,” you murmur, rubbing a thumb over his cheekbone, “you didn’t deserve to be alone.”

“maybe it was for the better, though,” he sniffles.

“a lot of things are. we can’t hope to predict everything for what would turn out better.”

“he died,” wriothesley chokes, “my brother. he died that night—i…i knew he did. so i ran the next day, when my parents were busy, i snuck off and ran. i didn’t come back until a few years later and i…” his breath catches in his throat, glancing at you for a moment. there’s something fleeting in his eyes. doubt, maybe—perhaps even fear.

you’re not entirely sure, but you press a kiss to his lips, soft and tender, so unlike your usual heated ones. something that’s shared not for the sake of pleasure but for the sake of knowing you’re there—that he has you. you’re both here, together, just the two of you. he can feel your warmth, and you can feel his. 

it eases the tension somewhat, making his rigid muscles relax as he pulls you closer. 

you pull away first, murmuring a soft, “i don’t care what you did. whatever it is.”

“you say that now,” he chuckles weakly, “but you don’t even know what i did.”

“i don’t care,” you say seriously, “i don’t. whatever you did, it was because you didn’t have a choice.”

“i killed them,” he says against your mouth, such harsh, dark words that don’t belong against your soft, pure lips—he thinks he might have just tainted them. almost like you know his thoughts, you prove you don’t care when you peck his mouth lightly. “i killed them and set the other children free.”

“you were just a kid,” you breathe, “a baby.”

“a teenager,” he huffs a laugh hoarsely, “maybe not that young.”

“a baby to me,” you say firmly, “no one that young should be pushed to such extreme methods.”

“you’re oddly calm about sharing a bed with a murderer. was the sex that good?”

you roll over, laying on top of him, pulling a soft oof from his lips—you know it’s exaggerated. he’s strong and broad under you, capable of taking your weight and then some as his hands find your waist to keep you in place, eyes boring into yours. so bare and so easy for you to look into, to read, to see so plainly for all he is. 

he doesn’t even blink—as if he’s offering himself to you, trusting you to see as much as you want, see as much of him as he can show you. 

“is that all you see yourself as? a murderer?” you ask seriously.

“of course not,” he denies, breathing softly into your hands as they cradle his face, “but it’s the part of me that matters most. that defines me the most. whether i want it to or not.”

“not to me,” you shake your head, “and not to you either, i can tell.”

“i know why i did it,” he tells you, staring at you so intensely, you feel like maybe he’s seeing you more than you’re seeing him, “i did it for my siblings. because i knew it was the only way to get them out. no one else would do a thing. but when you strip my title as duke from me, whether you put me in the underworld or put me in the overworld, i am a murderer. that won’t change.”

“and?” you raise a brow, “do you regret it? what you did?”

“never,” he says instantly. he means it. “but i’m aware of what i am to others. what they see me as. i’m not naive enough to believe my past will go away.”

“and it shouldn’t,” you shake your head, “i don’t think it should. i don’t think murder is what matters most about you—i think a child raised like livestock, betrayed, and taken advantage of, matters most. a boy who willingly gave up his freedom so his siblings would have theirs is what matters most. a man who served his time and chose to stay so he could make things better for everyone who followed is what matters. death was a kind fate for your parents, wriothesley—i for one, believe there were more fitting fates for them. far crueler ones than a peaceful demise.”

he chuckles at that last part, staring at you in wonder, in slight amusement, in so much awe that you almost feel shy.

“now i’m really questioning if the sex was that good—you’re really rationalizing my crimes, aren’t you?”

“oh, you’re such an asshole, do you know that?” you huff, “i think that’s what defines you best. a complete, utter, shameless assho—oh.”

he kisses you—abruptly so. his lips are pressed hard and firm against you, kissing with so much conviction, so much need, you’d think that you were disintegrating in his arms, that this was his last opportunity to kiss you and commit how you feel to memory. 

“you sure it’s not my stamina?” he wiggles his brows, “how about my—”

“i’ll see to it that this is the last time we ever engage in such activities if that’s all you can focus on—”

“okay, okay,” he laughs, pouting as he pulls you down to lay on him, your head tucking under his chin as he kisses the crown of your head, “enough sex jokes. i promise.”

“so crass,” you scold, “have some decorum, will you?”

“my apologies, milady,” he sighs regretfully, voice exaggerated and theatrical as he adds, “i won’t allow myself to forget my manners again. from here on out, i’ll make sure to discuss more…gentlemanly topics for your liking.”

“you’re a real handful,” you sigh, “poor sigewinne. such a sweet little angel to put up with the likes of you.”

“you met her?” he smiles fondly at the mention of her.

“briefly, yes,” you nod, “the poor thing must be tired of your antics.”

“i’m on my best behavior around her!” he insists, “you can ask her.”

“i don’t think she’ll vouch for you, you know.”

“yeah, you’re probably right,” he withers in defeat.

you giggle, kissing his collarbone softly before nuzzling against him as he relaxes. it’s comfortably silent, just your body against his, warmth seeping between the space that hardly separates your bodies, spreading across your skin. you share your heat, and he shares his. it lulls you, slowly but surely, and you can feel it lull him, too as his breath slowly evens out under you. 

sleep is just a breath away from clutching you when you mumble, “wriothesley?”

“hmm?” comes his sleepy hum.

“thank you,” you whisper, yawning, “for trusting me. enough to tell me.”

“go to sleep,” he grunts tiredly, “you can be sappy and sentimental in the morning.”

“okay,” you grin tiredly, pressing closer into him, “i’ll hold you to it.”

sleep comes quickly after that—so easy, so natural in his arms, you wonder how you’ve rested all these years without him. 

——————————

your routine to meet with wriothesley ebbs and flows between the surface and the fortress. sometimes, he stops by just like before, and sometimes, he sends for guards to fetch you when he’s too busy to make an appearance himself. your meetings more or less end the same—catching your breath together, bare bodies huddled together in a tired mess as you share quiet, whispered words into each other’s skin. it’s a routine that both of you are too used to by now, that even a short gap of not seeing each other makes the both of you impatient for the next time you’ll get to see each other. 

on days you can’t afford to see each other, your days at the shop drag by slower when all you can do is think about him. sometimes, the guards will be relieved to come to escort you, woefully expressing the awful mood the duke has been in, shuddering as they recall how unpleasant he is to be around when he’s unhappy. they seem to insist your visits are what help end his supposed awful temperament—your instinct is always to flush and insist they must be mistaken.

but it’s an intimate sort of development—the way the two of you slowly learn to depend on each other for comfort. you on long days at the shop, him after tiresome affairs with the fortress. every delicate touch and every saccharine word you exchange slowly peels away the harsh layers of the week, leaving you raw and bare to each other. 

it’s nice. something you’ve grown a bit dependent on, in fact. a part of you would like to be scared, but wriothesley doesn’t let you fear anything—it’s just the kind of guy he is. everything about him feels too safe for you to consider being scared. 

you miss him terribly, too. you haven’t gotten a chance to see him in over a week—it’s the first week of spring, the blooming season for a number of flowers. you have shipments from across the continent—cecilias from mondstadt, silk jades from liyue, sakura blossoms from inazuma, and padisarahs from sumeru. there are plenty more—too many for you to list off the top of your head, but those are the ones you’re sure will sell out the quickest. 

there’s a certain man who stops by every day, a mop of ginger on his head and an interesting aura about him as he asks you if you’ve received kalpalata lotuses yet—they’re for my sister, he tells you, i bring them home for her every time i visit sumeru. but i won’t have a chance for quite a while.

you learn he’s a harbinger, the eleventh in rank, and hardly one to step foot in his homeland for too long at a time. but he’s due back, he tells you, for a project that won’t allow him to leave for quite some time. mingling with a fatui operative is hardly on your list of possibilities for the week, but you realize even a harbinger can appreciate the beauty of flowers. so you promise him your batch's biggest blooms as soon as they are delivered. 

and he’s patient, coming every day in hopes that they’ve been delivered, helping you organize the deliveries you do get, going as far as to join you to loch urania amidst a terrible storm to assist in picking lakelight lilies when you’re low. you appreciate the small companionship you’ve formed with him—childe, as he’s called, he tells you. a code name for his place as a harbinger that you relish in being given the knowledge of.  

the day finally comes when the lotuses are delivered, and for all his help and kindness, you try to repay him with a free bouquet. 

he declines persistently. “no, no miss,” he chuckles, waving his hands in dismissal as you offer the beautifully bundled flowers, “i couldn’t possibly accept them free of charge.”

“oh, don’t be silly,” you huff, “you’ve done plenty for me. an extra set of hands in the shop is as rare as glaze lilies blooming in midwinter!”

“i was happy to help,” he chirps, “i had a good time occupying myself as i waited to depart fontaine.”

“and archons know when the next time you’ll return is,” you sigh, “which is why you should accept these as a parting gift.”

“a parting gift, huh?” your eyes widen at the familiar voice—wriothesley. it’s been almost two weeks since you’ve heard it, and you beam as you look over at his approaching figure.

“wriothesley!” you hum, “what are you doing here?”

“thought i’d come to pay a visit,” he says gruffly, eyeing childe, who grins tightly at the warden. “i wasn’t banking on seeing an ex-inmate, though. what a shocking surprise.”

“the fortress’s duke in broad daylight,” childe coos, “what a fascinating sight.”

it’s tense—you can feel the atmosphere shift all too quickly as the two men stare each other down. 

“i didn’t know childe was a prisoner at the fortress,” you murmur, making the warden scoff as he glares at the harbinger.

“well,” childe shrugs, eyes sharp as they gaze at wriothesley, “i like to consider myself wrongly sentenced. justice isn’t always fair in the courts of fontaine, it seems.”

“ah, is that why you escaped from your sentence early?”

“i believe my escape proved to be quite helpful in saving the people of this nation in the end, didn’t it?” he asks, voice low, almost predatory, as wriothesley grits his jaw, glancing back at you before crossing his arms. 

“is the fatui boy giving you trouble?” he asks, making you shake your head frantically as the harbinger lets out a dry chuckle from the side. 

“oh, no!” you insist, “no, childe has been quite helpful, i promise. he’s given quite a hand, in fact!”

“is that so?” wriothesley perches a brow, tongue poking his cheek as he glares to the side at the smug ginger. 

“oh, absolutely,” childe nods, “you see, i’ve been offering the lovely lady my assistance as i waited on my delivery. we even visited loch urania together to pick lakelight lilies for a bouquet she needed to deliver.”

“he treated me to lunch,” you beam innocently. you might have missed the way wriothesley’s jaw tightens, but childe certainly doesn’t, making his grin spread even wider. “he’s nice, wriothesley, i promise. i hope you both can sort out whatever differences you had during his previous sentence.”

“perhaps next time, you could join us for lunch,” childe drawls, “it’ll be on me.”

“a kind offer,” the duke chuckles dryly, a rueful grin on his tight lips as he adds, “but i’ll have to decline.”

“please, i really insist you take these lotuses,” you hold the bouquet out to the harbinger, and much to wriothesley’s dismay, there’s an evident amount of extra care put into the floral packaging. your careful handwriting in soft, looped letters spelling out his name across the paper, with a heart beside it as though you took time to thoughtfully scribble each letter just for him. “give your sister my best regards.”

“you know his sister?” wriothesley grits.

“oh no,” you chuckle, “but he tells me of her. the flowers are for her!”

“like i said,” childe hums, taking out a heavy pouch of mora and placing it on your counter—both yours and wriothesley’s eyes widen at the sheer amount of mora you’re sure is inside. it’s undoubtedly far more than a small, simple bouquet would cost, but he waves it off like it’s nothing as he says, “i insist on giving you the payment you deserve. you’ve certainly made my last few days here at fontaine interesting. it’s made up for the less than…welcoming treatment from the beginning of my trip.”

wriothesley’s eye all but twitches. 

“that’s far too much to accept for a small bunch of kalpalata lotuses, you can’t—”

“consider it a payment in advance for the next time i return to fontaine,” he winks, “i’ll be sure to visit for more of your lovely flowers. i’m sure my mother will appreciate a bouquet too.”

with that, he waves at you, walking off with a grin as you sigh and shake your head fondly, waving him off as you call, “you’re quite the handful, you know. do visit again next time you’re here!”

“oh, i wouldn’t miss the opportunity for anything.”

wriothesley scoffs at the final exchange of words, watching the retreating figure of the harbinger with hardened, distant eyes while you exhale softly and grab the pouch of mora. 

“are all harbingers this loaded with mora, do you think?”

“who knows,” he mutters, looking away as he swallows before adding, “i came to visit on my way back to the fortress. i had business with neuvillette.”

“oh,” you hum, smiling as you ask, “is he doing well?”

“fine,” is all wriothesley says.

“that’s good,” you nod, “we haven’t been able to see each other in quite a bit, huh? i’d have visited, but the deliveries all week have kept me busy.”

“good thing you had the harbinger to lend a hand, huh?” he remarks, raising a brow.

“well, yeah, i suppose so,” you frown slightly, watching as he takes a slow, deep breath before fixing his tie. “is everything okay?”

“yeah,” he says instantly. “may i walk you home?”

“of course,” you smile—it doesn’t reach your eyes, and he wishes he could find it in himself to do something to reassure the lingering worry in your irises, but he doesn’t. instead, he quietly waits for you to close the shop, so uncharacteristically silent that you can practically feel the tension in the air tangibly.

the walk to your home is just as silent. wriothesley doesn’t say anything, and you don’t have the confidence to break the silence yourself. you’ve never seen him like this, so bothered and visibly so. you’re not entirely sure what brought it on, either—but you are sure it has something to do with childe. 

you finally reach your home after a long walk, quietly standing in front of the door as you turn to him and inspect his face. hard-lined lips, distant eyes, and crossed arms. he doesn’t look like the usual wriothesley you know—the one who grins and gives you a slight bow as he says, we’ve arrived at your lovely home, milady. 

“thank you for walking me,” you murmur, looking at him carefully as he nods.

“sure,” he responds flatly, “my pleasure.”

“you didn’t have to trouble yourself if you were tired from your meeting,” you add.

“not tired,” he shakes his head. “it was no trouble to me.”

“are you sure?” you raise a brow, sighing as you cross your own arms, “you don’t seem too happy to be here.”

“what do you mean?” he shrugs lamely, avoiding your question, your gaze. you know that one look into your eyes is all it takes to make him spill, and normally, you don’t take advantage of that, but you think tonight you will. 

because you’re tired of dancing around half-truths and coded words you have to decipher. you want one straight, laid-bare conversation with him. so you reach over and tilt his jaw, making him inhale sharply at your touch as you force him to face you and look at you. 

“what is up with you? and don’t even think about saying nothing.”

“nothing is up with me,” he mumbles stubbornly.

“wriothesley,” you warn, looking at him unimpressed, “i was not born yesterday.”

“my apologies,” he says sarcastically, a rueful smile curling on those chapped lips of his, “i suppose i’m just a bit shocked i’m not the only customer you offer your affections to. i suppose that was silly of me—it must be good for business.”

“excuse me?” you recoil, staring at him in disbelief. a little hurt, too—he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, flinching slightly at the implications. “how dare you insinuate i’m a common whore?” 

“that’s not what i was trying to say at all,” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, “it came out wrong.”

“then what were you trying to say?” you demand, looking at him expectantly, hands on your hips and a raise of your brows that almost mockingly tells him, i’d love to see you work your way out of this one. 

“you never told me you and the fatui boy were so close.” 

if there’s one thing wriothesley is good at, it’s shifting things to focus on other people. so he can observe. watch closely. take note of all the little things so he can figure out what he wants to know without asking at all. all without having anything told to him right out. it’s how he works—and you won’t entertain it. 

“the fatui boy has a name,” you point out.

“his name is not actually childe,” he snorts—there’s no real amusement in the action, just as sarcastic and sardonic as everything prior. “is that what you believe?”

“if you’re not going to say the problem with your words like an adult, i’m going to go inside,” you spit, “we’re both wasting time here if we’re just going to talk in circles.”

“yes, because i’m the one who’s not admitting things,” he chuckles dryly. 

you glare at him—because enough is enough, and you’re sick of taking one step forward just to stumble ten steps back. with one swift move, your hand grips his wrist firmly and yanks, pulling him to stumble into your home as the door slams behind him. you’re tired of having bystanders walk past you and listen to your pointless discussion, and you’re tired of getting nowhere the longer you stand outside. it feels like the more you talk, the less you know. every word he says confuses you more and more.

and that’s the thing about him—he never tells you things, not since that night he first opened up. you thought you broke some newfound trust, a new ground to walk on with him that leads somewhere further than just two people who seek each other out for pleasure. you feel something for him—and you thought he did too, but it’s always something vague or another with him and you’re tired of it. tired of wondering where you stand, what he wants, how he feels. you want to know, and tonight, even if it kills you, you’ll find out.

“what is it you want me to admit wriothesley? huh?” you scowl, “tell me so i can tell you what you need to know so you’ll finally answer my question. i’m tired of the back-and-forth game with you.”

“you don’t need to admit anything to me,” he shrugs, “it’s not my business.”

“you don’t even believe that yourself,” you scoff, “even i can tell that much. is this about childe? you don’t like me mingling with the fatui? he’s just friendly, that’s all. and good business.”

“right,” he nods slowly, disbelievingly. you almost see red—how dare he hint that you’re a liar. 

“what do you think i’m doing then?” you challenge, “let’s hear it. fraternizing with the fatui? is that the accusation you’ll pull out?”

“well, if he’s helping you pick flowers and buying you lunch, then you certainly can’t be strangers,” he smiles tightly, “perhaps next time he can join us in our canoodling too if you’d like.”

“so that’s what it is?” you shake your head exasperatedly, “you’re moody because you’re jealous?”

“i’m not jealous,” he narrows his eyes, “i have no reason to be.”

“i’d believe you sooner if you’d said the underwater beast really was the cause of your scars,” you scoff, pursing your lips. “why is it so hard for you to just speak your mind?”

“then let’s start with you,” he retorts, hands throwing up in the air as he takes a step closer and glares daggers at you, “why are you dancing around what your relationship with the harbinger is?”

“there is nothing between me and the harbinger! nothing at all, and i don’t appreciate you assuming things about me. i’ve only been intimate with you!”

“you don’t need to hide it,” he smiles bitterly. finally, as if the conversation has chipped away at his resolve enough that bits and pieces of his inner turmoil can show, you can see the lingering hurt in his gaze. the betrayal. the doubt and fear—all of it pools in his eyes, swimming in the many, many flecks of his eyes as you stare into them. “it’s not as though we’ve committed to anything here.”

“i’m not hiding anything,” you say firmly, “you don’t have to be jealous.”

“i’m not jealous,” he shakes his head. it feels like he’s convincing himself more than you. because more than you, admitting to himself he cares is hard. all of this is hard—you know that. the last time he dared to trust someone, to love someone, he’d lost more than he could fathom. more than he was ever ready to lose.

so you sigh, dropping your shoulders as you let the anger dissipate.

“i wouldn’t blame you if you were jealous,” you say softly, extending the olive branch with a slow, hesitant hand to his cheek. he stiffens, but he doesn’t pull away, “it would kill me, too, to think you were close to another woman. but the harbinger is a customer i’ve become friendly with and nothing more. don’t you believe me?”

he closes his eyes, letting out a shaky breath as he hesitantly leans into your palm, letting your thumb brush soothing strokes along the scar under his eye.

“i was jealous,” he admits, quiet. hoarse. strained. it takes every ounce of him to admit as much to you—the progress makes you smile softly. “i…i was so jealous i couldn’t think straight. and i took it out on you. i’m sorry.”

“maybe it’s time we had a discussion,” you say softly, “about…well, us. what it is we’re doing. it’s long overdue.”

“i’ve been avoiding it,” he confesses. 

“i know,” you murmur, smiling tightly, “i know you have. that’s why i didn’t bring it up. but we can’t dance around it forever.”

“i’m no good at this,” he opens his eyes, defeated and so lost, you can’t help but lean in and press a soft kiss to his jaw.

“you’re not so bad,” you hum, “give yourself a little more credit.”

“no,” he shakes his head, “you don’t understand. i’ve never been good at this…at trusting people and getting close to them. i don’t even have real friends—i see clorinde and neuvillette every few months, and briefly at that. one of them was the judge at my trial, and the other knows as much about me as the files say. i don’t like talking about my feelings, and i hate sharing things about myself. i’m not jealous of childe because he threatens me—even i know you’d never give a fatui member a chance. but i’m no good for a stroll in the park, or picking flowers, or lunch at a cafe. i live underwater in a large prison that i run, and i rarely come up—at least, not often enough to be a healthy, functioning member of society, that is.”

“so what?” you frown, “i don’t care. nothing is easy at first—isn’t that why we try? who says you have to share all your feelings immediately? we can work up to that slowly. this was sharing, wasn’t it? what you just did? that’s a step in the right direction.”

“and look how much we had to battle for that little bit,” he lets out a sharp, self-deprecating laugh that makes your heart ache, “you’ll grow tired of me.”

“you don’t get to decide that,” you shake your head stubbornly, “i would never grow tired of you. never you.”

“i might be a duke now, but i was a murderer in the past,” he adds, a low and cheap attempt to convince you he’s not worth it. you roll your eyes at the statement.

“i’m aware,” you say blandly, “i don’t care, wriothesley. i don’t. those are all excuses—if you want this, if you really want this like i do, because you care about me just like i care about you and you feel the same way, then you’d realize these are all petty excuses your head is coming up with. i’ll wait for you to be better at communicating if you promise you’ll try. and your past is just a small stain on the cloth that we can ignore.”

“it’s murder,” he says in disbelief.

“i said what i said,” you huff. he blinks once, then twice before letting out a breathy chuckle.

“you’re insane.”

“thank you,” you nod, grinning, “and you being at the fortress is just a small obstacle. we’ll make it work, you and me.”

“how?” he asks, voice small and unsure.

“you act like it’s impossible, you silly thing. i’ll come see you, and you’ll come see me, and we can spend nights together wherever is most convenient for the time. why are you overthinking it?” you ask like it’s obvious. maybe it is—maybe his brain just doesn’t let him see how simple of a solution it really is.

“the fortress is no place for someone who’s used to the surface—”

“enough excuses,” you scold firmly, “i won’t have any of it.”

“you don’t know what you’re getting into,” he shakes his head—you cup his cheeks, pulling his face close as you press soft, delicate kisses along his skin. like he’s fragile. like he needs to be handled with care. 

no one has ever handled wriothesley with care. even as a child when he was defenseless. when his parents saw a commodity to raise and sell like livestock instead of a child to love and cherish. when the streets saw a rat with dirty clothes and nimble fingers only good for theft. when he woke up in a hospital bed with cuffs to his hands, wrists shackled, and a caseworker sat a comfortable distance away, even without his gauntlets. when they saw him as nothing more than a murderer on trial as opposed to a child with no other way out. when the world showed him no mercy and left him to fend for himself in a dark, ruthless corner of the nation under the sea with no sun, no grass, no fresh air, and no hope.

no one has thought to treat wriothesley with gentleness, with kindness, with grace—as if he mattered. not until he made himself matter, taking what he wanted through a pen, paper, and meaningless title. 

no one until you. 

“i know exactly what i’m getting into,” you whisper, “you know what i see? when i look at you?”

“what? big muscles?” he teases, voice weak. a last, feeble attempt at keeping himself guarded. it’s useless, and he knows it as well as you do. he’s already far more vulnerable than he’s comfortable with. 

“a good man,” you say firmly, “a good man who is worth the effort. one who has a good heart and no one to share it with. someone who knows when change needs to happen and makes it happen. someone who knows a thing or two about second chances. who shows people mercy if they’re willing to be better—because that’s all he wants. for things to be better.”

“you’re giving me a lot more credit than i deserve, sweetheart,” he says shakily, trying to give you his usual smirk. his lips wobble, much to his dismay—you kiss them to help him hide the tremor like the angel you are. 

he’s not sure why the archons, celestia, or whoever is in charge of fate would send him such a perfect, pure angel in his arms. but they did. he’s certainly not one to miscount his blessings—they’ve been few and far between as is. 

“no,” you murmur, whispering between kisses, “i’m not. i’m giving you as much credit as you deserve. because no one has ever told you these things about you, and it’s time someone did.”

“doing the dirty work, huh?”

“i wish you’d stop with that,” you smile at him sadly, “i wish you would treat yourself with the same kindness you treat everyone else with. that you treat me with.”

“you’re an angel,” he murmurs, pecking your cheek, “that’s the difference.”

“you can’t be that bad if that’s the case,” you grin cheekily, “what kind of angel picks such an awful guy?”

“one who thinks the fatui harbingers make good friends,” he snorts, “one who’s a little on the naive side.”

“i like to think of it as seeing good in people,” you wink. 

he laughs, arms wrapping around you, pulling you flush against his chest as he kisses you. and kisses you. and kisses you—and kisses you some more until you’re forced to pull away and breathe. even then, he’s not satisfied, lips finding the sensitive skin along your collarbones, traveling up along your neck and finding your jaw, peppering soft presses of his lips until they hover over your mouth again.

“you good?” he asks smugly, “need a minute to catch your breath?”

“you’re such a pain,” you huff, pressing against his mouth and closing the gap as he hums against you. 

“what were you just saying about me just a few moments ago? something about a good man?”

“come here,” you sigh exasperatedly—and then you’re tugging him into your bedroom, stumbling and giggling as you both impatiently find the bed. you fall back, the mattress catching you along with him as he hovers over you and doesn’t waste a moment to nip at your neck.

“next time you need help with flowers in a dangerous, stormy place, you ask me,” he says lowly, breath fanning over your skin and making you shiver, “you don’t need the fatui boy.”

“okay,” you laugh, breathless as your eyes flutter shut when he nibbles on the sensitive spot over your pulse point, “you might have to temporarily drop your duties as a duke for that, though.”

“consider it done.” his hands tug your blouse over your head, doing quick work to toss it somewhere on the floor as he grins at the lacey red bra you have on underneath. “this is new,” he comments, “i like this.”

“of course you do,” you grin in amusement, “so predictable.”

“hey,” he pouts, “i’m an easy guy to please. just need you, maybe a few accessories…i don’t ask for much.”

“well,” you look at him in anticipation, “are you going to stare all day? or are you going to take it off?”

his eyes darken—hazed with lust and desperation as he quickly works the bra off of you and tosses it off to the side, too, but not before he stares at the label quickly. “chioriya boutique,” he reads, nodding, “remind me to give her my thanks. and business, too, in the future.”

“shameless,” you scoff, shaking your head.

“grateful,” he corrects, grinning cheekily at you. you don’t even get a chance to retort before his lips are around your nipple, teeth lightly grazing the pebbled nub as he sucks, making you gasp as your hands find his head, cupping the back of it as your own head throws back against the pillows. 

“wri—”

“you know what i see when i see you?” he hums, pulling away from one nipple and latching onto the other, tongue rolling over it slowly as his thumb finds the other, not to leave it neglected, “i see the woman i would defy the gods themselves to possess. who i would commit far worse crimes for, and serve time all over again for. one who commands my every thought. do you know how many times i’ve neglected my duties just thinking about you alone? when i see you, i see the one thing that’s finally mine—mine alone.”

you whimper as his lips reattach themselves to your breast, sucking and grazing his tongue around one nipple and pinching and toying with the other with his hand. your hands tug at his hair, pulling a soft groan from his throat as he pulls away and stares at you. you’re a panting, heaving mess already—he grins in satisfaction.

“pretty,”  he hums, nuzzling his nose against your throat, right where your pulse is erratic, “so, so pretty.”

“all this flattery, and you’ve yet to do something,” you rasp, just to rile him up as he lets out a deep, gruff sound of disapproval, eyeing you with a raised brow.

“oh, you want me to do something, is that it? i thought we’d take our time,” he grazes his finger along your waist, tracing the edge of your skirt before looping his finger under it, tugging slowly, “but if you insist, i guess we can pick up the pace.”

he pulls the skirt down your legs, eyes widening as he takes in the matching red laced panties from the bra earlier—you grin cheekily as he does. “like this one too?”

“oh,” he chuckles, breathless, “sweetheart, you have no idea.” wriothesley is a giver—you’re reminded of this fact as soon as his head buries between your thighs enthusiastically, kissing your clit through the lace as your breath hitches. “did you pick this little set up just for me?”

“don’t be silly,” you tease, “i obviously got this for myself. consider yourself a lucky witness.”

“and a lucky witness i am indeed,” he nods, humming as he slowly, carefully inches the lace down your legs, admiring the way it contrasts against your sweet, supple skin. “i owe chioriya boutique my life. i’ll even give my thanks to madame chiori myself.”

“please do not,” you say in horror, making him chuckle, “that would be utterly undignified.”

he’s not even listening, you realize. his lips attach to your clit as soon as the fabric is discarded somewhere to the side like the rest, a soft groan rumbling from his chest as soon as he tastes you, spreading your legs for better access as he glides his tongue to your folds, pressing between your folds and looking up to watch as your head throws back with a soft gasp. 

“wriothesley,” you gasp, pulling his hair in a tight grip to ground yourself.

you’re the most gentle with him when you handle him—but you’re also the roughest. the way you grasp him so harshly, mercilessly in your grip, makes his eyes flutter shut in a sick, twisted sort of masochism. he loves the pain, the dull throb in his skull from your pleasure. 

“yeah, i’m right here, sweetheart,” he chuckles lowly, “feels good?”

“yes,” you whine, “s’good—so good.”

“i know,” he hums, pressing soft kisses to your clit, along your inner thigh, until he’s back to your folds, hovering over them as he whispers, “i can tell just from the way you’re dripping. isn’t that cute?”

you whine in embarrassment, closing your legs around him as he grins against your cunt, grinding down on his mouth until he’s back to devouring you, tongue slipping deep into you as far as he can, exploring your tight, wet hole with fervor. 

“close,” you whisper, voice bordering on broken, “i’m s-so close—oh, wriothesley!”

you come undone on his tongue with one more roll of his tongue over your clit, shaking as he sloppily eats you out through your high until your whole body is a shaking, quivering mess along with your walls. 

“got anything else from that boutique you want to show me?” he murmurs, moving back up to hover over you, burying his face into your neck as your arms snake around his shoulders, rubbing into his back.

“maybe,” you say vaguely, grinning, “it’s a secret. maybe if you behave, you’ll find out.”

“yeah?” he chuckles, “consider me on my best behavior, milady.”

“then take this off,” you tug at his shirt, pouting as you add, “not fair that i’m the only one undressed.”

“as you wish,” he agrees. you watch as he strips—it’s not embarrassing like the first time or two when you looked away with a hot face and ears. now it’s intimate, watching him bear his soul to you, with every scar and imperfection, every flaw and tainted part.

his cock is hard, standing between his legs as it throbs, a bead of pre cum coating the tip. your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him close again as you feel his hardened length poke at your thigh, making you press against it and pull a groan out of him.

“i want you,” you whisper, “i’ve never wanted anyone else. not like this. not like you. i don’t think i ever will.”

“you can’t have met too many people then,” he teases.

“oh, i meet plenty of people. romantic ones at that—flowers are a love language, you know.”

“and you still want me? they must all be taken.”

“they’re not you,” you correct, pulling him into a sweet, slow kiss, taking your time to mold your lips against him and feel him against you, “nothing close to you. no one comes close.”

the bees should come to your lips for nectar, he thinks. flowers bloom from your mouth, delicate and sweet petals that light up his world and color him every shade of love. 

“in that case,” he whispers, pulling away from your mouth to press a soft kiss to your nose, “i’m the luckiest man in fontaine. maybe teyvat.”

“i would agree,” you wink cheekily, “aren’t i such a lucky catch?”

“oh absolutely,” he laughs, amused, fond, so deeply enamored. then his lips are back on yours, and his hips are angled so that his cock teases your folds, grazing the entrance of your cunt as he coats his tip with your dripping slick. 

you both shudder at the feeling, gasping against each other’s mouths as you exchange hot, labored breaths. 

“i want you,” you repeat, “please.”

“you have me,” he whispers, letting out a soft moan as he pushes the tip past your entrance, “as long as you want.”

“that’ll be forever,” you say breathlessly, “think you can handle that long?”

“i’m sure i’ll manage.”

finally, he pushes all the way through, buried to the hilt and stretching you apart until he splits you open on his cock. he presses so deep into you, you can feel him nudge against that sweet, spongy spot without even trying. it’s like he was made for you—like the laws of this land declared him yours from birth and made him fit you in every way possible. the slot of his fingers with yours, the mold of his lips against you, the press of his cock into your cunt. all of it fits you so well, you wonder if you’ve lived your life just to find wriothesley. 

you both moan into each other’s mouths, strangled sounds that you swallow from each other’s mouths as your lips sloppily press into each other. 

“wr-wrio—fuck,” you stammer, nails raking along his back as he rolls his hips, slamming into your deepest, most rawest parts.

“yeah, baby,” he pants, kissing the corner of your mouth, “m’right here, sweetheart.”

you sob when a rough, callused thumb finds your clit, rubbing circles into the bundle of nerves perfectly in tune with the harsh thrusts that fill you so deep. deep—he’s so far into you, you wonder if you can feel him in your throat, in your lungs, and in your heart, knocking the air out of you as you breathlessly try to call his name. 

“faster,” you plead, clinging to him, “more—please, need more.”

“think you can take it?” he chuckles, cutting himself off with a strangled grunt when you squeeze around him particularly tightly, “i think you’re falling apart as is.”

“more,” you whine, back arching as your hips desperately buck up to meet his in tandem, trying to feel him closer, deeper, harder. 

“if that’s what you want,” he hums—you want to scoff at him, but you’re too delirious. you’d tease him for acting like he doesn’t want the same, like the ache of his cock doesn’t crave more friction, doesn’t want to slam into you with little to no self-control outside of chasing his pleasure. you feel so good around him—so good, his head falls to your shoulder as he pants harshly into your ear, murmuring stammered praises. “s-so good, sweetheart. you always take me so good, like the pretty thing you are. how in teyvat did i score the affections of fontaine’s most radiant lady? o-only the gods could know.”

“why don’t you ask them,” you breathe, head pressing against the pillow as your back arches and your toes curl when he slams his swollen tip against your sweet spot once more, hips rolling in perfect precision, “ask them how you got so blessed.”

“maybe i’ll ask the divinity right before me,” he hums smoothly, chuckling when you mewl as his thumb rubs faster into your clit, “how did i get so lucky?”

“because i need you,” you whine, “n-need you—only you.”

“what a sweet answer,” he groans, pumping his cock into you faster, feeling the familiar twitch indicating he’s close—and you are too. he can tell from the erratic squeeze of your walls. “always spoiling me, right sweetheart?”

“wriothesley,” you cry, “i-i’m close. m’so close, please. please.”

“no need to say please, baby,” he grunts, “you can have whatever you want. when you want it, yeah?”

and just like that, you break—his thumb is still rubbing those harsh circles into you swollen clit as you cum, clenching down on him through your high as your mouth parts and your head presses deeper into the pillow. he’s fucking into you, still slamming his hips into you as mercilessly as before, riding you through your orgasm as you chant his name. 

“wri—wriothesley,” you sob.

“yeah, sweetheart? what is it?” he teases—it doesn’t last long, though. his bravado falls apart as soon as the first twitch of his cock indicates his own orgasm. you feel the hot, sticky, endless ropes of cum fill you up, coating your walls as he stiffens over you and shudders, groaning lowly as he empties himself into your sweet cunt. “f-fuck, you feel so good—you’re the only one. the. only. one.”

his hips thrust into you to punctuate the words, cock pushing his release deeper into you, messy and leaking down your thighs and forming a ring at the base of his length. it’s so filthy you almost think it’s a sin. but how could it be when it feels so right, so good?

finally, he slumps over your body, spent and panting as he finishes. you catch your breath under him, labored breath one after the other as your sweaty skin clings against his own.

“you’re beautiful,” he murmurs after some time, kissing the damp skin of your neck.

“i know,” you whisper cheekily, making him chuckle as he rolls over, pulling you into his chest.

“so humble,” he snorts.

“of course,” you beam, “but feel free to leave more compliments.”

“oh don’t worry, i won’t run out any time soon.”

it’s quiet for a bit, apart from your giggles and his low chuckles. soft, peaceful, and so painfully comforting, you wonder if heaven itself wishes for a place beside wriothesley. 

“when you first came up to the surface after your sentence,” you mumble after a few moments of quietness, tracing small loops into his chest as he silently hums for you to continue, “what was the first thing you did?”

“i got a croissant,” he answers thoughtfully, thumb rubbing circles into your hip where his hand is comfortably rested.

you blink, tilting your head to look up at him. his lips curve into a knowing grin.

“pardon?”

he laughs—it’s a beautiful thing. like a boy, eyes crinkled and lips freely curved so wide, you’d think his cheeks were endless with the way they expand to accommodate for such a large stretch. it’s the one time he doesn’t seem like the rugged man you usually know. something younger, more innocent, more raw comes out when wriothesley laughs.

“they go well with tea,” he shrugs, looking down at you, quickly stealing a peck of your nose, “and…” his voice is softer as he trails off, smile faltering.

“and?” you press delicately. so delicately, you’d think you were speaking to a house of cards, one word that’s breathed too harshly away from toppling over.

“and i wanted to visit a bakery i went to as a kid,” he murmurs quietly, voice dropping to a whisper as if he’s admitting something he’s never told anyone. something tells you he just might be. “there was an old lady who used to feed me sometimes when i was a kid on the streets. after i ran away. she’d give me a chocolate croissant and warm tea. i thought…i thought maybe there was a chance she’d still …”

he swallows, cutting his words off just before his voice has the chance to break. it’s a measured gesture. you know it is because you know him. just like you know the feelings of petals and thorns with your eyes closed, you know wriothesley. just like you can tell flowers apart from scent alone, you have him memorized. just like you know what every petal and its origin means, you understand him like it’s your job, too.

except you get paid to do this with something better than mora. with open-mouthed kisses and lingering touches. with coffee in a mug to complement the tea next to it. with strong arms to shield you when rain pours hard over your unsuspecting heads. with a gentle voice that learns to whisper back the language you speak better than anything else.

it says you’re the one i need the most, like rainbow roses. i miss you so much, i ache for you, like mourning flowers. i’d shed blood for you to live, like dendrobiums. you’re what i desire more than anything else, like romaritimes. each word is carefully formed, fragile as it hangs from a singular point. like petals on a stem, his words blossom from the tip of his tongue, falling one by one to your awaiting hands as your thumb traces his lips.

they all tell you one thing—whether he says the words out loud or not, he tells you he loves you through the things he does say. every little promise, every compliment, every form of praise. they say one thing—i love you.

you have always felt loved around wriothesley. you know he loves you, even if you question it sometimes, even if you ache to hear it, you’re always reminded he does when those eyes soften as they look at you, training on you like they never want to look away.

he loves you. he loves you not. he loves you. he loves you not. he loves you.

he loves you.

he loves you.

he loves you.

it always ends with he loves you.

“was she?” you whisper, finger tracing up his chest, along his neck and jaw until it cups his cheek tenderly. he shivers at the touch. “was she still there?”

gentleness isn’t something wriothesley is very familiar with. it raids his skin, takes over the territory that’s only known harshness, and conquers the scarred patches that are barren and empty from all the pain and desolation.

“no,” his voice is barely audible. “her son owns it now. the croissants still taste the same, though.”

“some things never change, i suppose,” you smile softly, leaning closer as your nose presses against his, “even when everything else does. it’s not so bad if you hold onto what you can.”

“and what if you have nothing?” he challenges, closing his eyes when you kiss his jaw sweetly and slowly inhaling a soft breath.

“i’m sure that’s never true,” you murmur, “there’s always something.”

“yeah? how optimistic of you,” he chuckles.

“i’m serious,” you pout, “there’s always a way to make do. look at cacti. they go ages without water, don’t they? and did you know naku weeds can survive being struck by lightning?”

“do you just compare everything to plants?” he asks in amusement, eyeing you with a charmed glint.

“of course,” you huff, “don’t you compare things to what you love most?”

he looks at you for a moment. really looks at you. grazes his eyes over your supple skin he’s traced so many times, over the small crinkles by your eyes permanently etched from smiling so often, over the curve of your nose and lips he’s pressed his own against, over the two eyes that stare back at him and see him more than they do look.

and then he nods.

“yeah,” he admits, “i do.”

your lips are as sweet as the warm chocolate that coated his lips and chin as a child. your touch is as soft as the hands of his mother when he thought he could trust her. your eyes are as bright as the sun when he first saw it after years of dark, rusted walls. everything about you reminds him of his past, the better parts and the worst. all of it.

some of it is healing, and some of it hurts so raw he thinks he’ll bleed out. but your hands are dipped in gold, he thinks. they’d make the most infertile soil rich and filled with life, letting him blossom new again right where his blood spilled.

he’s reminded of you in everything he sees. tea reminds him of your coffee with too much milk. paperwork reminds him of how distressed you are by wasted pages and killed trees. his gauntlets remind him of your hands so small in comparison. he’s doomed, he thinks. cursed, even.

cursed to always remember you in everything.

so, of course, he compares everything to what he loves most. because why else would you reside in his mind so endlessly, taking up the space from one end all the way to the other? why else would you remind him of you in even the mundane of things if he didn’t love you so deeply, so purely, so easily, that you’re everywhere all at once, even when you’re nowhere in sight?

he presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and inhaling sharply before letting out a slow, shaky breath.

“i lied,” he admits, making you frown.

“about?”

“about the first thing i did when i got to the surface,” he says quietly. “i went to my parents' graves.”

“to visit them?” you raise a confused eyebrow.

“no. to make sure they were really dead.”

“oh,” is all you say, staring into his eyes as he waits for you to say something more. “well, were they dead?”

“yes,” he snorts, closing his eyes and huffing out a small laugh. “very much so.”

“well, that’s a relief,” you giggle, “otherwise, you’d have served a sentence for murder for nothing.”

“good thing i didn’t, huh?”

“good thing you didn’t,” you nod, grinning as he stares at you softly.

“i’ll take you one of these days,” he hums quietly after a moment. you look surprised, eyes widening as you process the words.

“to your parents' grave?”

“to the bakery,” he rolls his eyes, letting out a breathy laugh. “i don’t think my dead mother would appreciate me bringing back a woman after i killed her.”

“oh, very funny,” you scowl, glaring at him.

“you think so?” he winks, laughing when you gently shove his face away, making his hand grab at your wrist and bite gently into the skin.

you squeal, giggling as he nibbles into your skin. “stop that, you brute!” you demand in between laughs.

it’s quiet for a moment as the laughter settles down, just you and him. him and you. silence echoing off the walls and warmth radiating between your bodies, the sheets clinging to your bare skin. you can feel his bare hip brush against yours. it’s intimate—far more intimate than either of you are used to, but not unwelcome.

he turns, pulling you into his arms and pressing your foreheads together. you think that’s his favorite position to be in—when your faces are so close, they touch. when his eyes can bore into yours. when he can feel the warmth of you tickling his skin as you breathe, as you talk, as you exist before him.

“you’ll like the croissants,” he adds quietly, thoughtfully, “the blackberry ones are particularly nice with the lemon and mint tea—”

you cut him off. before you can think. the words fly past your lips, swept with the breeze like dandelion seeds, and carried through the room as they find shelter in every little crevice. they’ll be here, in every corner, in every little place, a memento of your first real confession.

“i love you.”

he pauses as you cut him off, blinking as he stares at you. something flashes in his eyes—fear, excitement, a small bit of shock and doubt that makes your heartache. you can read him like a book.

it’s not doubt because he thinks you lie. it’s doubt because he thinks it shouldn’t be him. you know that, and you’re prepared to patiently prove him he’s wrong. little by little. day by day. one kiss at a time.

“that’s really enthusiastic,” he shoots you a teasing grin, too easy and too practiced for your liking, “if i knew you liked croissants that much—”

“no, wriothesley,” you say gently, like your words could rock the boat and topple you both into a dangerous, unforgiving current any moment. “i love you. i love when you tell me things you don’t like sharing, and i love when you show me things that are hard to revisit. i love you. because you try, and you’re good at trying. and that’s enough.”

“getting sentimental on me?” he asks hoarsely, smiling tightly.

your hand cups his cheek again, pulling him in so you can kiss the corner of his mouth as you whisper, “yes.” your lips find the other side of his mouth, still at the corner as you whisper again. “because you deserve to hear nice things. even the cheesy ones.”

his eyes close. one moment turns to two, and you let him take his time. let him swallow as he takes a shallow breath before he opens them again and looks at you.

he’s laid bare before you. in more ways than one. being nude is easier than being seen—he trusts you enough to let himself be both.

“you deserve to hear nice things, too,” he admits. it’s not the same as admitting he loves you too, but it’s as close as he can get—still difficult enough that his voice breaks. like it’s hard for him to confess something like this.

it is.

it’s hard for him to tell someone he loves them. the last time he did, he felt the sucker punch of betrayal in his guts, so young that he hardly understood what it meant to be betrayed at all. he watched the same eyes he used to think were his saviors die out as blood spilled in the living room, where his tiny feet padded across as he ran around and played. he misses them sometimes, even now.

his mother’s beautiful green eyes that greeted him in the mornings as she kissed him awake, warm and gentle on his forehead. his father’s deep blue ones that would look at him proudly as he grew and grew, clasping his shoulder with that firmly affectionate grip.

sometimes, he misses them, misses what he thought he had. other times, he’s glad he did it. sometimes, in the dead of night, when it’s just him, he mourns the old him. the one that didn’t have blood on his hands, the him that didn’t have to take two lives to set so many free. the version of him that was allowed to be a boy who existed freely, no taxes to pay for the love he so desperately wanted.

love is wicked like that—it creeps up on you, takes pieces of you, and changes you until you can hardly recognize yourself. until you can hardly recognize everyone around you. how long has it been since he’s seen his siblings? can he even still call them that? do they remember him? would he even recognize them?

he still loves them in his own way. his precious little sisters camille and lucie, and his sweet baby his brothers alexandre and nicolas—he came back and set them free just before it was their time. he didn’t want to leave them, but he had no choice. there were ones who left before him, a time that he can hardly remember anymore. a time before him and antoine. but he recalls them being so delicate with him just as older siblings should be. did they make it out of whatever fate they were sealed to? were they disposed of with no witnesses to bring their demises to justice? he doesn’t know. it’s easier not to know.

it’s easier not to love at all than to open up the risk of hurting. every person he’s ever loved has caused him pain. even the innocent siblings who did nothing wrong—all he’s ever known is pain. the pain of not having them around anymore. the pain of their quiet demise. the pain of setting them free and letting them go. the pain of never having them to himself like a proper family.

loving is so hard for him, so hard on him. so unforgiving to him. so cruel and harsh to him that he hides away behind guarded fists and loaded punches. and you know it, too—he knows you do because you reward his confession with the softest kiss you’ve ever given him as soon as he spills the words.

“i love you,” you murmur the sweet words into his mouth between warm kisses, “i love you. i love you.”

“say it again,” he pleads. it’s easier to let you love him than it is to love you—you don’t mind letting him be a little selfish. he deserves it, in fact.

“i love you. more than anything i’ve ever loved.”

“promise me,” he begs.

“i promise,” you say firmly. “and you don’t have to say it back, not yet. but i want you to know it because you should know you’re loved.”

all at once, the vines wrapped around his chest release, one petal blooming across his heart and arteries at a time until the nectar is running through his veins.

it’s warm. it’s sunny. it’s soft. it’s so, so safe. it doesn’t hurt. it never does with you. you never let it.

“i love you too,” he croaks. he shivers as he says it before he’s grinning slowly, chuckling in wonder as he lets the words sink in before he repeats again, “i love you.”

“yeah?” you beam, eyes crinkling as joy tucks itself into the crevices.

he nods. “yes. and your weird nature lectures.”

you pout, making him laugh. “hey—”

“and your annoyingly aromatic house with petals everywhere—”

“they’re not everywhere—”

“and that ugly dog watering can of yours—”

“it kind of reminds me of you, so—”

“i love them all, and i want them for the rest of my life. i hope you take it easy on the snapdragons, though. i think i’m allergic.”

“such a romantic at heart,” you grumble, rolling your eyes. but they’re glassy, swelling with unshed, precious little tears.

he kisses your eyelids as you close your eyes, murmuring, “i’m doing my best here. cut me some slack, i’ve never dated someone before.”

“oh, wriothesley,” you sniffle, tears coating your sun-soaked skin. and despite the evidence of tears, he’s never seen joy on your face like this before—so clear and radiant. “who taught you about romance? you’re hopeless.”

“hopelessly in love with you,” he shoots back smugly, wiggling his brows.

“i’m doomed,” you snort, letting out a watery chuckle.

“yeah,” he says cheekily, “you are. i hope you’re prepared.”

you kiss him in reply. he kisses you, too. you kiss each other. flowers bloom everywhere your lips touch—wriothesley swallows every petal gratefully.

you love him. you love him not. you love him. you love him not. you love him. you love him not.

you love him.

you love him.

you love him.

it always ends with you love him.

and he loves you, too. you both love each other. the words bounce from both of your tongues like you take turns tasting them, feeling them, familiarizing yourselves with them.

it doesn’t matter who whispers the words first or who murmurs them last. no matter who breaks the silence, it always ends with i love you.

ITS FINISHED. WOW. i never thought a flower shop drabble was going to turn into this—i actually had a completely different flower shop au idea that was going to be a long fic but i just wanted to write a tiny practice round drabble to get the itch out my system before i had time to sit down for the full fic. well as you can see…the practice run kind of took a mind of its own so now we have this. LOL. i think perhaps i will also write the other idea but we will see!!! this one kind of replaced the other one in my heart as flower shop wrio lore lol 🥸

ANYWAY!!! i hope you all enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it. idk if wrio was ooc or not or if i did his past and trauma justice but i certainly tried!! all the things about his past with the siblings and his mother's diary and the croissant at the bakery are all headcanons i carefully crafted and hold so so so dear. they are my truth!!! and they make me fall in love with him so much more deeply :( anyway! if you liked it then as always, reblogs and comments are appreciated. now if you’ll excuse me, i will be doodling his name in pink glitter pen with hearts in my diary and giggling.

[binniesbooks]

• SANDWICH

TXT 019 .F05 2024

wc 6.8k

pairings Nickjudyz!TXT x fem!reader

warnings reader was described as poor, Yeonjun and Soobin being loaded, growing alone, self relieving, oral sex (Soobin receiving), slight cum eating, squint to see some fingering, unprotected sex, breeding kink if you squint once more, pet names, degradation, boob kink for Soobin if you squint again lol, bigcock!Soobin, bigcock!Yeonjun, virgin!reader, threesome, double vaginal penetration (hit me up if I forgot something)

faye's note took me not only a week to finish this! Omg! Nevertheless, HAPPY 100 FOLLOWERS! Thank you so much guys, I love you all! 😭❤️ Please continue on supporting me and my fics. I promise to hold an event soon if we reach another milestone :> Cheers🥂!

Growing up alone, you've done everything to survive. Even when you were still a child, you worked for yourself. Doing laundry for the neighbors, helping the market vendors, walking pets—doing anything just so that you could earn a small profit.

Now that you're a college student, you've been hired by the school cafeteria due to the dean's empathy. You have a small space in the cafeteria for your small business, selling sandwiches. Every break time, lunch, and when you were vacant, you would quickly make your way to the school cafeteria to sell your products. You've been selling other foods too, like juice drinks and chips, but mainly sandwiches.

You would always wake up early in the morning to prepare everything you needed for your products.

"How much for a sandwich?" A tall, handsome man stood in front of your stall while you were busy cleaning your table.

"2 500 won, each," you smiled at the guy before you.

"I'll get two, please," he said as he pulled out his wallet.

"I'll just wrap it!" You cheerfully answered, not wanting to show how tired you are.

You're basically tired, not just today. But just tired of your whole life. Many times you tried ending it, but you always chickened out. And nothing changed. You struggle with your daily life. You can barely pay rent and your other bills. If it wasn't for the financial assistance given by the school dean and your side hustles, you surely wouldn't have been able to manage.

"Thank you! Enjoy your snack!" You cheerfully thanked the guy as you bowed down.

"Hyung! Come get your snack!" You heard the tall male call for someone over the other side of the cafeteria. Your gaze moved towards the other male. He's a little shorter than the first one. But he has a quite pretty face: pouty lips and captivating eyes. Handsome, yes.

"Yup! They're our seniors. They're also known as the Nickjudyz." You later found out from your friend that they were your seniors; they are a year older than you, and they were both scheduled to run for the presidential position on the student council for the upcoming election. Not that they wanted it, but actually, the campus dean had assigned both of them to different party lists at that. So basically, they didn't have a choice at all.

"Nickjudyz? What does that mean?" you questioned.

"You haven't heard of the animation movie Zootopia? They were the epitome of Nick the Red Fox and Judy the Rabbit," your friend explained. "Yeonjun's features were like those of a fox, and Soobin's a rabbit. Aren't they cute?" she added, giggling.

So the taller one was Soobin, and the one with sharper looks was Yeonjun, you understood now. "Nickjudyz..." you mumbled.

That night, you watched Zootopia, taking notes on the characters. And the next day, your sandwiches were Zootopia-themed. You were really waiting for the two of them to come and buy from you again.

However, luck was not on your side. When you weren't able to see them around, you felt sad. They were the reason you made your sandwiches Zootopia-themed.

You were about to close your stall when the shorter guy, Yeonjun, was running towards you. "Sandwich! Two!" he shouted with a wide grin. "Uhm, do you still have some?" He scratched the back of his head, realizing you were about to close your stall.

"I, uh, kept two pieces, actually. I thought you might come again." You hesitated at first.

"Nice! We just came out of the dean's office, and we hadn't managed to eat anything, you're a lifesaver," Yeonjun sighed in relief, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket.

After those times, you always got to sell your sandwiches to them. You even grew closer to them thanks to the short interaction you get to share with them every day. Sometimes, Soobin would be the only one to come, sometimes, it's just Yeonjun, sometimes they are both standing in front of your stall, buying themselves a sandwich. They became your regular customers.

"How about I recruit you to be my secretary on my party list? I still haven't recruited my secretary yet," Yeonjun suggests when he buys from you again one time.

You didn't know why you answered, though. It's not like you actually wanted to be a part of the student council. Maybe it was because of his pretty eyes and his cute pout. "I-i'll think about it."

He smiled and went away, skipping.

The next day, Soobin also suggested the same. "I already recruited her, Soob." Yeonjun wrapped his arms around the taller guy.

"Hyung, that's unfair!" Soobin pouted, only for Yeonjun to chuckle. "Oh! I have an idea!" he exclaimed.

"And that is?" Yeonjun looked at him, confusion written on his face.

"Why don't we let her choose from the two of us, instead?" Soobin chimed.

You froze from wiping the glass cabinet for your sandwich. "Wait, you're actually letting me choose between your party lists?" you asked, stunned at Soobin's suggestion. The two males just nodded at you.

Yes, you had built some connections with them. You can even consider it friendship, well, that's what they've said to you too. But to choose between the two of them to support, you think it's unfair. Especially since they were both good friends to you.

"Gosh, how can I? It's unfair," you groaned, Yeonjun chuckled.

"You can just think about it, but remember that if you don't choose me, you'll tear my heart apart," he pouted.

"See? That's what I'm saying! I don't want anyone of you to feel bad," you sighed, spraying Yeonjun with water from your bottle sprayer.

Soobin hummed, sipping on the canned soda in his hand. "Maybe you can choose if you got help from the both of us," he suggested.

"Come to think of it. Lately, I've been too busy with my business that I wasn't able to catch up again on some of my activities." You sat down on your chair, removing your apron. "Since you're both my seniors, how about you teach me?" you added.

"Like, tutor you or something?" Soobin said, turning over to you. You quickly nodded. "I might consider your request if you do so," you grinned.

Long story short, Soobin and Yeonjun both agreed on giving you a tutoring session.

It's been almost a week. The session went well. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just them teaching and assisting you.

You always do your sessions at the school's library or the town's public library. Anywhere but your house. You know the three of you won't fit in that small studio. Considering they are tall towers, you often tease them with this, in which they often rebut you that you're just short.

"Should we end it here today? I mean, I still have a part-time job to go for at 6," you glanced at your phone secretly—the screen broke and an old model—you don't want them to see that, at least.

Actually, they were far out of your league, even just as friends. Sometimes, you would even think about not showing up near them anymore, but guilt would always eat you up. They've been so good to you, they like to help you out at your stall sometimes when they are free.

"Say, how many side hustles do you have? I don't mean to offend you, but why do you need so many jobs?" Yeonjun, showing his little curious side, tilts his head a bit. Is he confused? Maybe. Is he mocking you? No, his eyes doesn't tell you that.

You sighed, not wanting to hide your situation anymore, not with how his curious eyes were boring holes in your face. "For weekdays, I go to school, and work at the cafeteria for some time," you paused, looking at Soobin, who was staring at you too for a while now. "At 7, I work at a convenience store down my street, and clock out at 12."

Soobin's eyes were full of concern. "Do you even have time for yourself? Time to study? Time to rest?" he shoots.

You shook your head and continued to speak, "I study for a bit, and I sleep before 2, then wake up at 6 again to prepare for my business, given that our class starts at 8 in the morning."

"Are you trying to kill yourself?" Yeonjun frowns after knowing you could barely rest.

"It does not end there yet," you chuckled. "On Saturdays and Sundays, I work at a cafe from 6–12 in the morning, work at the laundry shop from 1-4 in the afternoon, head straight here for our sessions, and catch a night of restaurant work from 6–11."

You could pick their jaws off the floor. You chuckled at their reaction. "Are you still alive? Tell me if I'm talking to a ghost..." Yeonjun hugs himself dramatically. "Hyung, don't be like that." Soobin slaps his shoulder, emitting a whine from the older man.

"I should get going now, see you on Monday!" You quickly got up to your feet and waved at them as you ran outside.

That Monday, you saw yourself working with the two males at your stall. They were the ones selling your sandwich. And since they've got the face, the reputation, and all, your sales suddenly skyrocketed. You needed to run to the nearest store near your school to buy what you needed to restock.

"Achoo!"

"That's your 99th time sneezing today, little angel," Yeonjun said, without turning to face you, still busy cleaning the glass cabinet.

"I'm okay, don't worry - Achoo!"

The next day, you were nowhere to be found. The sandwich stall was not open and no sneezes could be heard.

"Bin, I just realized... We actually have no way to contact her," Yeonjun was tapping his fingers on the cool steel table of your stall.

"I wonder what happened to her," Soobin sighed, rummaging through your stall, foolishly hoping to find some way to contact you.

"Let's go to the faculty, I have an idea," Yeonjun suggested.

"What? No, we can't disclose any information about students to other students, so no," the school administrator declined his request.

"Pleeeasseee, sir," Yeonjun begs, only to be declined again.

"Uhm, she's... She's my secretary for the election, so I need to have her information, at least," Soobin butts in.

"Your name?" The admin asked Soobin.

"Soobin. Choi Soobin, sir."

The two of them quickly ran out of the faculty as soon as they got what they needed. Quickly excusing themselves from their respective classes, claiming they have some emergency to tend to.

You woke up to the irritating ringing of your doorbell. You were not expecting any visitors today.

"Goodness, who could it be..." You stood up only to fall back down on your bed again because of dizziness. You felt the drilling pain on your head again that you had felt since last night. You shiver, pulling your jacket to yourself, yet you can feel yourself so sticky because of sweat.

"Who is--" Your eyes widened the moment you were met with two tall guys standing in front of your studio. You quickly slammed your door and leaned against it.

'What the hell are they doing here?! How did they find me? Oh my god!' You panicked, screaming inside your head.

"Angel," you heard Yeonjun whisper, "Can we come in?"

"H-how did you find where I live?" you asked. Dumb question. They could just ask around the faculty. "Dummy," you whispered to yourself, facepalming yourself.

You opened the door and peeked at them. "Hi, hehe," you awkwardly smiled at them.

"C-come in..." You opened the door wide, welcoming them to your small studio.

"We're gonna let ourselves in," Soobin mumbled, removing his shoes from the doorstep.

Their eyes were welcomed by a small bed that could barely fit two people in the corner. A small study table is beside it, stacked with books and a broken phone on top, and with a small dresser near the bed.

A single-seater dining table on the other side with some instant foods and a portable stove.

Their eyes roamed a little more. A closed door, they assumed, was the rest room, just sat near the doorstep.

"I... I don't think my place is enough to fit the three of us..." you fidgeted, sitting on your bed as your head spun again, making you shut your eyes tightly.

"You were sick after all," Soobin commented. "I'll just go out, I'll come back quickly," he said as he carefully stepped out of your place.

"So... This is where you live?" Yeonjun sat on the chair at your dining table. You meekly nodded. "All of those side hustles for this place?" he added.

You know he does not mean to offend you once again, yet you felt yourself getting embarrassed. "I barely survive... Even from those multiple part-time jobs. N-not to mention that—cough, excuse me.. I am paying loans too," you explained as you lay down on your bed, feeling your body burn up again.

Your gaze returned to Yeonjun when you heard him talk.

"Buy cough medication as well, Bin. And, oh, a few fruits too if you don't mind."

"Why are you looking for me, by the way?" you asked, pulling the blanket to cover yourself.

"We were worried, of course. How can we not? Plus, we weren't able to eat a sandwich today," he smiled, even though he knows you're not looking at him.

Yeonjun stood up. "Towels," he said.

You looked at him confused. "Huh?"

"Where are your towels?" he asked himself.

You pointed at the dresser, "Lowest part."

"I can't believe my tongue didn't taste any of your sandwiches today, angel. Do you know how much I crave for it every day?" You heard the water running in your restroom for a moment.

Yeonjun gently pats the wet towel on your forehead, wiping your face as well. He even hesitated at first to wipe your neck, shaking his head in the process.

"Don't you have any classes?"

"We do, but we excused ourselves. What can we do? We have an emergency at home," he smiled at you.

"Dummy, this ain't your home, Mr. Pouty Lips," you chuckled.

"Why not? Look, I even have a patient here at home," he says, tucking your straying hair behind your ear. His hand gently grazed your face, and you unconsciously leaned on his cool hand.

"Your hand feels cool..." you mumbled, squirming under the blanket. He then cupped your face, gently rubbing your cheek. Your eyes flutter closed as you feel relaxed beneath his touch.

"Pretty little angel." His voice was faint, even lower than a whisper.

"I'm back." Yeonjun snapped his head towards the door as Soobin closed it behind him. "How is she, hyung?"

"She fell asleep, she's burning hot, though." Yeonjun placed the towel on your forehead. "Hey Bin, you know how to make porridge, right? We should at least make her something warm."

You woke up again, but this time it was because of resounding murmurs filling up the small room.

"Hey angel, you're up?"

"You're still here?" you grunted as you tried your best to get up, receiving a helping hand from Yeonjun.

"You have to eat," Soobin says as he walks towards you with a plate with porridge in a bowl. "It's still warm, you'll feel better," he adds.

Soobin sat on the side of your bed, still holding the plate. Yeonjun stacking your pillows for you to lean on, as he ordered you to scoot back.

"Open your mouth y/n," Soobin scooped a spoonful of porridge.

"I can do it, you know," you chuckled.

"Please let me."

Soobin fed you the porridge he cooked. Yeonjun was at your table, peeling and slicing some fruits. "You should've taken care of yourself more," Yeonjun nags.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Pouty Lips," you said as you flashed a smile at him. "I don't have any choice but to work."

You have been sick many times, but no one has ever been there to take care of you. No one cooked for you but yourself. You buy medicines alone, even when you are burning up. You needed to do your chores even when you got too dizzy to stand up. "I'm grateful to you two, this is the first time I have experienced being cared for."

And that's when they realized they needed to take care of you. That's when it registered in their minds that they needed to stay beside you. You're their precious little angel, whom they needed to take care of. A fragile person who still needs someone to be their companion.

"We're heading home for now, okay? We'll be back tomorrow, please rest a lot." His once captivating eyes were now full of worry, and his pouty lips became more pouty as he talks to you.

"Go now." Your smile wasn't forced at all. It was genuine. Your heart thumps as you recall how they took care of you. You were floating on cloud nine.

Yeonjun walked outside first, and Soobin stopped midway, turning back as he quickly tracked back towards you. "If anything happens, call me... please," he handed you a small note in which you assumed was his number.

Yeonjun came back the next day early in the morning just to see Soobin cooking breakfast while you were sitting on your bed like you'd've been awake for the past few hours.

"Is this why you weren't answering your phone?" he asked.

"Sorry, hyung, y/n called me in the middle of the night. Her temperature went up," the taller man sighed.

Yeonjun sat beside you, placing his hand on your forehead. "Do you feel okay now?" he asked as he cupped your face, his face merely an inch away from yours. You nodded, but you didn't even pull back. Maybe it's because his cool hands were on your cheeks, or maybe you were just feeling too hot. You actually don't know. All you knew was that you were feeling butterflies from his touch.

You watched how his pretty lips parted, how his tongue glossed his lips.

Which is to blame? You, who maybe, have a tiny crush on him that makes you wanna kiss him? Or Yeonjun, that may or may not be, doing this on purpose while his face was way too close to yours?

You tightly shut your eyes. Were you assuming a kiss?

"Angel, food is ready," he announced, standing up from your bed.

You opened your eyes, and you watched him look at Soobin, as they seemed to talk with their eyes.

"I'm glad it's Saturday today. There's nothing else to do." Soobin stretches his feet, plopping down on your bed after eating. "I feel so sleepy," he muttered, his eyes fluttering close.

Yeonjun lay beside him, closing his eyes with a smile plastered on his face. You, on the other hand, just came out of the bathroom.

You placed your hands on both of your waists. "How am I supposed to rest now? You're hogging my bed."

Soobin pretended to snore as he let Yeonjun hide on his back, trying to hold back his snickers.

Maybe you could let them rest. It won't hurt to let them rest after receiving a lot of favors.

"I have a test this coming Thursday, I don't know if I would be able to pass the test," you sighed, poking at the watermelon slices Yeonjun placed in front of you.

It's been more than a week since you were sick. You were now invited over to their place for your tutoring session. It only occurred to you that they're not just friends, they were roommates too.

"You can do it, I know you can, you've been studying a lot," Soobin cheered, stopping for a while from writing in your notebook.

Yeonjun picked up a piece of watermelon barehanded, making it touch your lips. "How about a little gift if you pass the exam, little angel?" he suggested, "Aahh," and asked you to open your mouth at the same time to feed you.

His fingers grazed your lips a little more than expected, and he proceeded to lick his fingers with the left-over juice of the watermelon. "What do you say?" Yeonjun leans forward to you, his hands propped on the table in their living room.

You meekly nodded. No noise, just a simple nod and a lip bite that didn't escape Soobin's and Yeonjun's sight. "W-what gift though?" you asked, trying to straighten your posture.

"Soob, any suggestions?" He peered towards the taller male, only for Soobin to answer with a "Shhh, secret," and a smile.

Yeonjun chuckled, ruffling your hair. "Surprise, little angel, it's a surprise."

You were aware of their subtle advances, actually. Especially how clingy and touchy Yeonjun was. But you were just letting it slide. You don't give it plenty of attention.

But you have already admitted it to yourself. You're swooning over them. They're your good friends, though, and that's why you kept on pushing your lingering feelings back.

The session went well that day too. Not to mention that you're no longer rushing because they already asked you to drop some of your side hustles. You were hesitant at first because how are you going to pay your bills now? But you ended up listening to them and their pouty request. How could you say no? Why would you dare say no, rather?

Thursday came quickly, and taking the biology test first thing in the morning felt like walking on fire and broken glasses barefoot. You could feel the sweat dripping down your forehead and your heart thumping. You even called all the saints, gods, and goddesses you knew to help you answer the test. If looks could kill, flies would be all over your teacher's body.

The following day, your test papers were given back to you. You were too scared to open the folded piece of paper. That's why you kept it like that between the pages of your notebook. You even brought the notebook with you when you went back to your stall to sell your sandwiches.

In the midst of the crowd at lunch, you saw the two tall guys walking towards you once again. As if on cue, they waved at you the moment they met your eyes. You could clearly picture bunny ears and a foxtail over their figures as you chuckled to yourself. "Silly guys," you whispered to yourself.

Soobin was the one who noticed the notebook on the side. He was trying to fan himself with your notebook when your biology test results came flying out from your notebook.

"What's that?" Yeonjun asked as he saw Soobin opening the folded paper.

"Woah! I knew you'd ace the test y/n," he exclaimed, making you snap your head towards them with a confused look.

"Did our surprise gift make you motivated?" Yeonjun taunts, a sly smirk playing on his lips.

"T-that... I..." You were out of words. From what Yeonjun had said and from knowing you actually got a perfect score from your biology class, which you dearly hated from the start.

"It looks like we need to give here our prize, hyung," Soobin smiled. They look at each other knowingly. They know what you deserve. "Shall we head out first?"

Yeonjun and Soobin head home first, ahead of you. They said they wanted to take a stroll at the mall to buy something as your prize, and they just told you to head straight to their place tomorrow afternoon.

You were able to sleep soundly that night. Knowing that you can ace tests only if you focus on your studies. You felt proud of your achievement, given that you don't usually do well in your biology class. You even planned on making the two guys a special-made sandwich to thank them for their work. However, you were actually planning on turning down their request. You couldn't stand choosing between the two of them. You would rather back down than choose.

You were actually expecting something more of a material gift. Maybe a book, a chair, or something you could use inside your small studio. And the gift you were about to receive was the last on your list.

"Fuck princess, why are you so good," Soobin hummed while guiding your head.

"You should be more gentle, Bin. Remember, she still needs to choose who she wants to serve under," Yeonjun chuckled while caressing your dainty finger as he placed your hand on his tenting bulge.

You glanced at your hand on his bulge, and your gaze went up to his eyes. Yeonjun tilted his head, "What is it, pretty angel?"

You swore, and your stomach swirled. Little did they know, whenever they called you these names, you felt a little weaker in your knees.

How did it happen that a visit to their place would end up with you in their bedroom?

You rang the doorbell at their apartment's door, clutching onto the paper bag of the special sandwich with a wide smile on your face. Yeonjun opened the door, rubbing his eyes. He looks like he just woke up from an afternoon nap. Until you realize he's not wearing a shirt. His bare and toned body is displayed in front of you.

"Hi angel, sorry, we were asleep. A friend visited earlier and got us drunk," he apologizes. "Come in."

"Fuck, my head is spinning," he muttered to himself.

"Uhm, should I just come back next week? Do you want to rest for now?" worry and nervousness were visible on your face.

"No, please come in. You don't mind taking care of us too, right?" he smiled, picking up the bottles and cans on the table.

"Where's Soobin?"

"The room over there, do you mind waking him up? I'll just clean this." Some takeout boxes were scattered around the floor, and spilled drinks and sauces were also around.

"Soo-"

"Ahh fuck, y/n... More... You feel so good... Ahh.." You were stunned when you pushed the door open. Soobin was sitting down on the side of his bed, clutching the hem of his t-shirt up to his chest, while he gently stroked his shaft.

"C-come on pretty... I n-need more..." Soobin lolled his head back, letting go of his shirt to use his other arm to support his body as he tightly gripped the bedsheet.

"D-do you need h-help?" You actually don't know why you asked it. You should've just closed the door and pretended that you saw nothing.

Soobin peers over you, "Fuck, didn't know you're already here... Shit sorry, I need you y/n." His lower lip caught between his teeth, sweat forming on his forehead as his fringe sticks.

Like clockwork, you slowly managed to get near him.

"But... But I think you're drunk... I don't think this is right..." you chirped, trying to fight your desires with reality.

"I'm sober. I swear, fuck.. How can I not be when all I can think about was how you," he paused, pressing down on his slit, "Fuck!" He looks up at you once again, "All I can think about was h-how you m-moaned my name when you c-called me that night." He was once again reminded of how you moaned and chanted his name, calling for help, your pants, and heavy breaths when you called the night when your temperature went up.

A pinkish tint washed your face as you thought about how you did your best to call him.

You slowly knelt down between his legs, not breaking eye contact. Your hand slowly wraps around his cock as he draws back his hand.

"You're so p-pretty. I'm sorry I'm m-making you d-do this." You shook your head and flashed him a smile.

"Y-you want this?" Soobin raised your hand to stop you for a while.

"I.. that.. probably..." You weren't able to form any coherent words about how scared you are to admit you have a little crush on them.

"Please. Please tell me you w-want this t-too, If you-"

"I do. I-I do want this. No, I want you, actually... You... And Yeonjun too. Just.."

"Just?"

"It's just that, I can't admit it. You're both good friends of mine. I can't afford to lose our small friendship just because I like the both of you," you bit your lower lip as you retract your hand and place them both on your knees, preparing yourself to receive some hate comments.

"How am I supposed to hold back after knowing you want me? Oh god, you'll be the death of me..."Soobin caressed your cheeks, pulling your face closer to his length.

You look up at him, your eyes full of innocence made him curse all the non-liviing things from hell.

"W-wanna fuck your throat so bad, princess," Soobin muttered, rubbing his shaft on your cheek.

"She's so pretty, I want to ruin her." Your gaze flits toward the voice, it was Yeonjun. He was leaning on the doorframe, watching the two of you exchange a little talk.

"Fucking pretty, hyung. And smart too. She deserves a gift, right?" Yeonjun nodded with a smirk playing on his pretty face.

"She's a good and honest little angel, she deserves a good gift."

Yeonjun marched his way towards the bed. The bed dipped under his weight when he sat beside Soobin.

And this was when you found yourself in that position, between Soobin's legs and reaching for Yeonjun. The sandwich on the paper bag, long forgotten, was splayed on the floor.

You lightly rubbed your hand on Yeonjun's pants, making him hiss under his breath. Your eyes flitted to Soobin, you watched him alternate between biting his lower lip and gaping his mouth.

"I-i'm gonna... y/n, 'm close-- Fuck!" Soobin's hips stutter, stilling for a while inside your mouth. Hot liquid sliding through your tongue.

"C'mere," Soobin quickly pulled you up, crashing his lips on yours.

"Let him taste himself, pretty," Yeonjun taunts.

You lightly open your mouth, letting some of his essence slip through your lips, swallowing the remaining on your tongue. Soobin moaned in your mouth, teeth almost clashing at each other, lips swollen from biting.

Soobin pulled away, his forehead on yours, chasing his breath. "God, it tastes weird," he mumbles.

You felt a hand on your waist, it was Yeonjun's. He was guiding you to sit on his lap.

"Make me cum."

You left a peck at Soobin's lips once more before straddling Yeonjun. Not wanting to be left behind, Soobin tugged at the hem of your shirt. "Can you remove this?" he asked, eyes begging.

You quickly slip out of your shirt. A red hue paints his cheeks as he tries to reach out for the strap of your bra, snapping it open.

Yeonjun then pushed your hips down on him to feel you, making you startled. "Mmhh, feels good, fuck," he sighs. His pouty lips look so delectable as you see him gape his mouth.

Your eyes don't want to leave Soobin, giving him a few glances as he strokes himself languidly while watching you.

"Pretty, never thought you could do something like this, you're not as innocent as you look, yeah?" Yeonjun's eyes were flying towards Soobin, as if asking for some approval, as he continued to guide your hips to grind above him.

"She's dirty, hyung," Soobin chuckles.

"I-i'm not, ahh-" you tried to retaliate, only for Yeonjun to buck his hips up.

"If you're not, then why are your nipples so perky?" Yeonjun smirks, rolling your nipples between his fingers, emitting soft whines from you that made Soobin leak out once again. Of course, he was reminded once more about that night.

"Look at her grinding above you even if when you're not holding her waist, hyung," Only then did you realize that Yeonjun's hands were no longer on you. You're moving on your own accord. No guidance at all.

You felt shy as you stilled your hips, hiding behind Yeonjun's neck. Were you this desperate? Were you this dirty? Just like what they've said?

Yeonjun lifted your skirt, landing a soft spank on your ass, making you yelp at his neck. "Why'd you stop?" He then squeezed your ass as he landed another spank.

Yeonjun raised your body for a bit, only to see how wet his sweats were. It's not from him, of course. You watch the ends of his lips curl up.

"Baby, look at the mess you've made," Yeonjun coos. Soobin reaches for your skirt to unzip it. Your baby pink underwear has now turned dark because of how wet you are.

You bit your lower lip as you look at Soobin, eyes glossy, seeking help, and cheeks beet red. You wanted to cry out of embarrassment.

"Oh, look at my pretty angel, Bin, she's about to cry."

Soobin chuckles, "Don't make her cry, hyung. You're such a menace."

"Continue moving then, save your tears for later," Yeonjun remarked, letting you drop down on his lap once again.

"No, baby, I'm not guiding you. Move on your own," he added as he shook his head when you still didn't move. Oh god, the embarrassment you've been feeling ever since you've stepped inside Soobin's room.

You grab both of his shoulders as you dance above his lap.

"Fuck w-wait, that's --" Yeonjun's hand flew over his mouth to clutch on it, his head lolling back with only a single arm supporting his body.

If there's something Yeonjun considers a weakness, it's when a girl moves in a circular motion on his lap. And you hit the jackpot on your first try.

A few more moves, and he found himself convulsing underneath you. His eyes were blown up when you looked at him. He looked so fucked out. Quickly moving to his side, he also looks down at his lap. You both witnessed how the wetness of his cum stained his sweats. The gray color slowly darkened as the liquid spread out.

You were the one who initiated the kiss this time, giving his pouty lips wet kisses, to which he responded back with a weak hum while he held your face.

Soobin pulled you back over him. "Sorry y/n, can't just stay still and watch you with him." Soobin discarded his shirt on the floor.

"Stop hogging her to yourself, Bin," Yeonjun chuckled at the younger's action and words.

Soobin carefully laid you down on his bed, latching his mouth on your boob, while he gently massaged the other one.

"Move over a bit, baby, need to feel you," Yeonjun lays down on his side beside you, flipping you to turn sideways. Soobin was still sucking on your chest while he moans out his hunger for you.

The pouty guy hugs your waist, littering love bites on your neck. Leaving splotchy red marks all over your nape and shoulder.

You never thought about having an active sexual life, given that you're too busy and focused on making ends meet. Let alone having two guys at the same time.

The tall guy in front of you leaves the same thing around your cleavage while he humps on your thigh. His shaft feels heavy on your skin.

Yeonjun's hand trails down your waist to your clitoral area, rubbing in a circular motion to hear you whimper his name.

"Y-yeonjun," you whimpered under your breath.

"I'm here, focus," your hips jerked when he slowly slid his finger inside your pussy only to pull it out again.

"Bin, wanna stretch her out? I want to feel her already," he grunts. The taller male complied, he scooted up and raised your leg.

"So wet, damn," he dipped his fingers inside you, and just like Yeonjun, he quickly drew it back, giving his fingers a lick to taste you.

"She's sweet, hyung, holy shit. But as much as I want to taste you, I also want to feel you around me, y/n."

The first stretch felt like your body was being torn apart. You quickly lean your head toward Yeonjun, and your hand reaches back. Fingers tangled on his blonde hair as you give it a pull, mouth agape at how big Soobin feels inside.

"So wet 'n tight," Soobin grunts as he keeps on pushing inside you.

"H-hurts! S-soob, it h-hurts!" you cried out as you reached for him, clawing his chest.

"I'm only h-halfway inside, mmpp!" Soobin winces at the pain from your scratches and how your pussy snuggled his thick cock. He holds your face to drown your moans and cries in his mouth as he quickly pushes inside you.

He pulled away as both of you pants as if you had run a hundred miles.

"Y-you're choking me," Soobin moves a little, making you whimper once more.

"B-bin you're t-too big," you pout.

You felt something poking your entrance once, making you peer over to your back. You were met with Yeonjun's fucked-out gaze.

"Need to feel you," Yeonjun shuts his eyes as he pushes slowly.

"W-wait! I can't! Ahh! Hurts!" You thrashed around, making Soobin moan with the pressure.

"S-stay still, y/n!" Soobin hugs you closer to him, "We will all get hurt, stay still, fuck," his abs clenched with how stimulated he was. He signaled Yeonjun to continue pushing in.

Your mouth latches on Soobin's shoulder, biting on his open skin.

"Fuck!" They shouted in unison. Soobin felt the sting of your teeth sinking into his skin, but he tried to endure it. Yeonjun, on the other hand, felt how tight it was inside you.

The two males stilled for a while. Letting you get used to their sizes. Their shafts aren't a joke. Girthy. Long. Thick. Something that would definitely stretch out a tiny pussy like yours.

"'m sorry, angel, sorry..." Yeonjun whispers while he caresses your waist. Soobin planted kisses on the top of your head, your teeth are no longer sunken in his shoulder. But you felt weak between them. Your small and frail body looks like a paper stuck between two big books.

"B-bin, move. S-slowly please," you pleaded as you looked up at him.

His gaze softens as he looks at you. "Why do you have to beg so prettily? I might cum just looking at you," he says, catching his lower lip between his teeth. He then raised your leg once again and started to move slowly. His grunts, your whimpers, and the squelching sound resonate inside his room.

"Angel, who thought that selling a mere sandwich would end up with you being sandwiched between me and Soobin, hm? So fucking good," Yeonjun grunts as he starts to thrust from behind. "You're so tight, baby, fuck."

Soobin tried his very best to stay as quiet as possible, just letting small yet slutty moans, whines, and whimpers. The friction he felt from your wet pussy and Yeonjun's length at the same time was too much for him. He knows he won't last long, but he silently challenged himself not to cum yet.

"You're so greedy, princess. Look at you taking two cocks at the same time. Greedy and dirty."

"My angel is such a whore. A cock slut," Yeonjun snickers, grunting afterwards when he thrusts again.

"Tight virgin pussy."

Their words made you dizzy. Dizzy enough to unconsciously chant their names alternately. Your hands are flying everywhere, clawing and clutching anything within reach as they litter your body with a lot of red marks.

"Please please please wanna cum, please I wanna cum!"

"Oh, you're asking for permission?" Soobin questioned.

"Fuck, are you into begging, pretty?" Yeonjun grunts behind.

"P-please let me cum, I'm gonna-- please!"

You yelped when you end up squirting because of how they simultaneously thrust inside, making you feel stimulated.

"What a dirty girl, for real," Yeonjun sighs, kissing your shoulder.

"Wanna cum inside her, hyung," Soobin was gripping the plush of your thigh as he continuously thrust.

"N-no! Please! I'm not taking a p-pill!"

"Please baby, we'll take care of you, we promise," Yeonjun's hand wrapped around your neck, his thrusts becoming more sloppy.

"Please, wanna fill you. Wanna fill you so bad with my cum," Soobin's nails dug on your skin as he held your thigh tightly.

Yeonjun's grip on your neck made your mind cloudy, and you nodded at whatever they were saying. Not sure about what you were agreeing to.

"H-hold it, Bin, i-i'm close too."

You were a moaning mess. Dizzy, mind hazy, eyes cloudy. Your body was limping as you felt hot liquid spurting inside you, along with guttural moans and deep grunts coming from the two males.

"Sorry," you heard them apologize and slowly pull out before your eyes flutter.

Maybe this gift could be the best thing you ever receive in your entire life.

And a cleanly wrapped small box was sitting on the edge of Soobin's table.

@binniesbooks 2024

taglist: @babymochibeargyu @beomiracles @lizibizi @inkigayocamman @izzyy-stuff (tagging sum of my fave moots and friends 😖💞)

[midnightorchids]

I am kinda curious

What would Jason be like if the coffee Cafe owner!reader built in a small library in her Cafe just for him,like she saw he liked reading and went like 'yup. I am building a small library for him'

This is such a fun idea, but omg please forgive me, I went a little overboard. Once I figured out what to write, I couldn’t stop. I apologize for how long it is. Also, this is completely gender neutral, so anyone can read!

But omg also, I was literally kicking my feet and giggling writing the end lol, Anyways enjoy!

Owning a cafe was a difficult job, there was always much to do— customers to attend to, drinks to make, and maintenance to do. You were always busy, but you loved your job.

You had spent a lot of time curating the perfect atmosphere for your beloved customers. The lighting was warm, with fairy lights and lanterns dangling from the ceiling. There was wooden furniture and two old couches that sat by the glass windows. The tiny space smelled of freshly brewed coffee and sweet bread. The cafe was always inviting. 

You had many regulars at the coffee shop, each one with their own story, a different purpose.

For the past six months, twice a week, every Thursday and Saturday morning, a tall man walked in. Jason, you recalled his name from the many times you prepared his drinks. He’d order the same thing every time, a small London fog and a walnut banana bread.

He’d sit at the table nearest to the entrance, his back never towards the door.

Every morning, he’d come in with a new book. You had seen him read Franz Kafka, Oscar Wilde and Jane Austen; he’d read a lot of Austen.

He was a mystery and you wanted to know more. 

You found Jason quite handsome. His skin was scattered with scars and you often found yourself staring at the permanent wound near his lips. You wanted to run your fingers along it, to trace it, to kiss it. 

His eyes were always kind, a deep shade of green, forest-like you’d think to yourself. 

He spoke with kindness. His voice velvety and rich, much like the espresso you’d brew everyday, except his voice was never bitter, almost always doused with honey. 

Sometimes you’d catch him looking over at the counter, at you, you’d hoped. 

Your coworkers were afraid of him, telling you to stay away, but you couldn’t help yourself. He was like an enticing book, waiting to be read. They’d warn you, “do not engage in too much conversation with the strange man.” But it was as if they were talking to a small child, their words would go in one ear and out the other.

“Strange,” you would never use that word to describe him.

From the small talk you had with him, to his choice in books, to even his taste in tea, you’d never describe him as strange.

Gentle was the word you’d choose.

He was huge, all height and muscle, terrifying to most, however to you, he was everything but that. You saw an angel and you didn’t even know him… yet, you’d tell yourself.

There were days, where you almost gained the courage to ask for his number, maybe ask for small detail, perhaps get a glimpse of his life. But each attempt was futile. Why was it so hard to speak to him for more than five minutes, you’d curse your inability to speak to attractive men.

-

You were beginning to give up on your dreams of getting to know the beautiful stranger, when he walked in through door.

The conversation began as per usual.

“Morning Jason, what can I grab you today,” you asked politely. He smiled softly in return and you stare at the scar by his lip as he begins to speak.

“Uhh surprise me,” you look at him confused, he’s never done that before and he finds himself smiling harder. “Just kidding, I’ll just the take the usual please,” he says as he places his copy of Jane Eyre on the counter to take out his wallet.

“Brontë, why am I not surprised,” you reply, gazing at the book. You take the cash from his hands and your heart drops. Shades of purple and crimson coat his skin. They’re bruised, again.

“What can I say, I’m a man of taste,” he smirks. You roll your eyes and giggle.

“Now who told you that,” and he shrugs. Then there’s a lull, you don’t know what to say now. It isn’t awkward, but you find yourself starting feeling a little uneasy. God, if you only you could come up with something else to say. You shake your head slightly and begin to warm up his banana bread.

You turn around and wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t walk away to his usual table this time, instead he takes a seat next to the counter. Odd, you thought.

Jason’s gaze doesn’t leave you for a second, he watches you in admiration, you don’t quite catch on.

If you thought Jason was handsome, then he thought you belonged in a museum. You were a work of art in his eyes. The kind of beauty they wrote poetry about. Absolutely stunning.

He wanted to get to know you, speak to you, but he was afraid. If you didn’t reciprocate his feelings, then he may never be able to see you again. The trips to the cafe would no longer be necessary and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

However today, Jason pushes his fears aside, he feels bold. He finds his confidence and he speaks.

“Do you read much,” he asks suddenly. You place his cup of tea and bread in front of him, and nod your head.

“I do, but not what you read,” you reply and he stares into your eyes, curious. “I mostly read magazines, you know Vogue and stuff,” his smile drops a little, he’s trying really hard to not look judgemental. Cute, you think. “Kidding, I read fantasy mostly,” and his face lights up again.

“So like J.K. Rowling,” he questions.

“No, Harry Potter’s good, but I’m not really a fan of her, you know as a person. I’ve been reading a lot Neil Gaiman recently though,” you say.

“Oh fuck, yeah, she’s said some pretty crazy stuff huh,” and you nod again. “Gaiman though, I don’t think I’ve ever read his stuff before, he any good,” he asks and your eyes go wide, you’re excited.

You spend the next hour of his visit speaking to him about books, about the things that you both like.

You only part from the conversation when there was a customer.

You’ve never felt this way before, all the assumptions you made about him were true. He was an angel, a kind and gentle one.

-

A month goes by and you notice your relationship with Jason change. Now, instead of sitting by the entrance of the cafe, he sits near you, back against the door. A sign of trust, you assumed. He smiled more, he showed his teeth and he laughed, hard. You loved the sound of his laugh. His eyes looked brighter, greener, emerald-like. He still walked in with a new book, but when the conversation began, it was long forgotten.

You watched his bruises heal and you watched new ones appear, you were always curious, but never had the courage to ask. He’d tell you when he was ready.

As time went by, you found yourself wanting to do something for him, you wanted him to know that you cared. You thought that if your words were going to fail you, then maybe your actions would prove otherwise.

-

Working a closing shift at the cafe on a gloomy Tuesday evening, you find yourself thinking of different gestures you could do.

Ideas came and left, nothing felt good enough. He deserved the best. Trying to busy your mind elsewhere, you begin to sweep the floors and that’s when inspiration hits you.

There, in the coffee shop, lies an empty corner. An odd spot, not necessarily small, but also not large enough either.

A perfect fit for a decently sized bookshelf. A library, for the community, but most importantly for Jason. You smile to yourself, proud at the thought. He’d love this, you knew he would.

The next morning you find yourself drilling holes into the pale walls of the cafe, trying attach the large shelf you lugged down to the shop.

Once everything was fixed into its rightful place, you begin adding the books, by genre and then by the authors’ last names. You add many of Jason’s favourites, multiple copies of Austen. You add children’s books, comics and something for yourself.

The shelf fits right into the ambiance of the cafe, elevating it honestly. The corner looked cosy and you found yourself wanting to sit by one of the couches with a book and a cup of hot chocolate.

You stare at the shelf once more, proud. Now, you just had to wait.

-

Jason walks into the cafe the next day, he’s late. He arrives near closing time. It’s just you and him in the cafe, most of your staff left for the day and not many people stayed this late. It’s quiet, the only sound coming from the machines on your side of the counter. He’s holding another book in his hand, but he has no intention of reading tonight.

His hair is slicked back, and there’s a small cut on his forehead. He’s dressed in a white dress shirt and black pants. He looks like he’s coming back from a big event or maybe he’s going to one later. Either way, he looks pretty like this, his arms look more defined and you can make out the muscles on his back when he walks around the room, waiting for his drink.

His eyes wander around the cafe before settling on the bookshelf nestled in the odd corner. His eyes soften, he’s never noticed that before, it must be new, he thinks.

“When’d you get this,” he asks, his fingers running along the spines of the books. He’s smiling, there’s so many books.

“Yesterday, it’s for you,” you say, holding your breath. This is it, the moment you’ve been preparing for.

“For me,” he looks over at you as you settle his tea on the counter. You begin walking over to his side, slowly, riddled with nerves.

“Yes, since you’re always here, I thought you’d like having a book shelf here. It’s like a library, you take a book and then you-“ he cuts you off suddenly.

“You made a library for me in your cafe, are you serious,” he’s trying to hold back a smile, you can tell. His scar gets more prominent when he does that. “Why,” he as asks, his voice is soft, it feels like warm milk with honey, comforting.

“You’re gonna make me say it,” you can’t see your face, but it feels hot, you can tell you’re blushing.

“Yeah, say it. Why is there a library in your cafe for me,” he says, enunciating the words “your” and “for me.” He’s smirking now. He knows the answer, he just wants to hear it from you.

The point of the library was to not have to say anything, for your actions to speak for you, but here you are. Ears burning and palms clammy.

“I…,” you trail off, you look around the room, anywhere but his face. He notices and walks closer, his hands gently make their way around your waist.

“Say it,” he exclaims, it’s not forceful, he’s smiling and shades of pink dust his cheeks.

You close your eyes shut, fuck, you’re going to have to say it.

“I really like you jas-,” and with that, his lips find their way to your own. You move in harmony, much like matcha and oat milk. His lips are sweet, he tastes like the banana bread, he decided to eat while pacing around the cafe. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, you pull back and smile. You peck his lips. Once where the scar is and once more on the centre. He grins.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear that from you,” he mumbles against your lips, waiting for you to kiss him again.

And you do, you kiss him again and again.

[vaaaaaiolet]

It's the RPD's annual Secret Santa, and Leon's at his wit's end finding the perfect gift for his work crush. No competition, of course, except for the part where you make him promise not to bring something lame. Leon's got a week. He can do this. Right?

gn / m, fluff, romance, humor, leon is a SWEETHEART, you guys work at the RPD but you're leon's senior and also love reading??, no outbreak, inspired by the teapot episode of The Office lol, tw: claustrophobia

word count: 1.5k // read on ao3

a/n: vivi try not to mention christmas challenge go!!! @k1ssaphobe this one's for you <3 literally the ugliest effing banner i've ever made i'm SO SORRY but this completely destroyed my writer's block. i had so much fun <3

It’s all been downhill since Leon plucked your name out of a glass jar last week. Shit. Multiply that times three, rain down a couple red and green sprinkles for holiday spirit, and you have a great representation of how prepared Leon feels about being assigned the most crippling crush he’s had since high school for the RPD’s annual Secret Santa: you. 

Shit, indeed.

His hands shake like tremolo as he rereads your name printed on his little slip of paper, and Leon decides right then and there that the best way to go about this is to not go about it at all. Plain and simple. 

“Aren’t you excited?” you gush after your turn to draw from the jar. Poor you, you’d taken his jittery hands as enthusiasm. 

Leon grins tightly. “For sure, yeah, I um… I love Christmas. Really excited. You get who you wanted?” 

“Hey, no cheating. Not even with me, rookie.” You scrunch your face, clutching your paper to your chest. “Secret Santa’s secret. But it’s no secret that you’ve got to give it your all, so no lousy gifts allowed, got it?”

Well, there’s that plan gone. It’s back to police academy basics: Keep It Simple, Stupid. 

There’s nothing to overthink about making a good impression as the newest RPD recruit, Leon gaslights himself while haunting the Target holiday aisle on Monday night. You routinely save him from Irons’ infamous wrath, so it’s only natural that Leon spends all of Tuesday in a stupor at his desk, definitely not thinking of how he could never pay you back the favor with a silly Secret Santa gift. 

Wednesday rolls by and his coffee from yesterday sits in the break room, cold and overstirred next to today’s breakfast crumbs. How many times has Leon watched you sip tea at your desk? Five, six? 

Your eyes sparkle over the rim of your cup when he asks you about your weekend. Really, he doesn’t get the hate for small talk. There’s nothing small about the smile that bunches up your cheeks when he cracks a stupid joke about the weather, and more often than not, Leon finds himself waterboarding his notes app with the names of all the novels you drop mid-conversation so he can binge their Sparknotes over the weekend. So it goes, according to Kurt Vonnegut.

Ugh, he should have paid more attention in English. What the hell is an allegory anyway? Leon spends all of Thursday browsing your Goodreads profile and wracking his head over the hefty price tags attached to your TBR list. His wallet makes for a terrible wingman. 

But really, finding the perfect gift is no sweat at all. Leon is absolutely nonplussed (according to his 50th vocabulary-related Google search) when he steps into the RPD elevator on Friday morning with a clumsily wrapped, candy cane-striped bundle in his arms. 

“Hold it plea- Leon!”  

Liar, liar, pants on fire – he’s totally shitting his pants when you barely make it inside before the doors snap shut. 

“Thanks,” you gasp. 

Leon nods stiffly, his cheeks growing warm, and jams the second-floor button with his knuckle.

As the elevator starts its maddeningly slow climb, you hum, rocking back and forth in your snow boots. You’re cradling a package of your own, something four-cornered and fairly small. Leon, however, feels like he’s holding a bomb, the object of his affections standing less than three feet from his radius of destruction. How are you so carefree right now? You’ve probably got this gifting thing in the bag and he most definitely doesn’t. 

Leon can see everything unfold the moment he enters the office. You’ve had your gift planned months beforehand, his gift is going to be horrifically lame when you open it, everyone’s going to clap politely but you’re going to hate him forev-

And then the elevator plunges into pitch black.

“Oh my god!” 

Who screamed louder, Leon doesn’t want to find out.

The elevator shudders to a complete stop. Leon’s mental spiral of doom helpfully supplies him with an image of you two dangling in midair, suspended on wires. Maybe this is the universe saving him from delivering the worst Secret Santa gift of his life.

Leon blinks in the darkness, waiting for your unflappable voice to cut through the silence and figure a way out, headstrong as always, except you don’t, and Leon strains his ears to hear what’s surely not what he thinks it is, a whisper that sounds an awful lot like: “Leon, I don’t want to die.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna die,” you whimper. “I don’t wanna die.”

Your voice floats up from a lot lower than he remembers your head being, so he crouches down to find you with your arms hugged to your chest. You’re huddled against the wall, breathing all shallow. The package in your arms lies forgotten somewhere in the abyss.

“Hey, hey, nobody’s dying.” Leon reaches out to find your hand. “What’s the matter?”

“I have, cl-clau-”

“Claustrophobia?” He remembers that one well. Wishes he didn’t. 

You nod fitfully.

“The dark doesn’t help either, huh?” he whispers, craning his head to look at the busted bulb on the ceiling. “Damn.”

Your palm grows colder and clammier in his hand by the minute, and the shakiness in your breathing is starting to worry him. Your head pops above your knees when you hear rustling in the shadows, and then the telltale Christmastime cacophony of wrapping paper being torn to shreds. 

“What are you…?”

“Being resourceful,” Leon grits, tearing his Secret Santa gift open. He fumbles with its contents for a second, slipping something into a plastic compartment. “It’s not the best, but…”

The elevator blooms with soft, golden light.

“...it’ll do.”

“What’s this?” you murmur in awe, cupping your hands around the tiny book light Leon holds. 

“My Secret Santa gift,” he chuckles sheepishly. “I kind of, um, blanked. I’m also really bad at giving gifts, so there’s also this,” he says, pulling out a mug from the heap of trashed wrapping paper.

When I Think About Books, I Touch My Shelf, it announces with impunity. 

Leon blushes when you giggle at the inscription. Things always look better online than in person, rookie mistake. But at least you’re breathing better now. 

“This is amazing,” you laugh, cradling the cup like there’s warmth inside. 

“Not so amazing now that I’ve opened all the packaging.”

“Your Secret Santa won’t mind at all, trust me, not with a gift like this- ‘touch my shelf’, you’re unbelievable! Tell me where you got it.”

He shakes his head. 

“Leon Scott Kennedy, if you don’t stop gatekeeping this incredible mug and this super useful book light, by the way, I’m going to tell Irons you spilled coffee all over his desk. I can be very convincing, y’know.” You cross your arms decidedly, waiting. 

“There’s no need for all that!” he protests. 

“That was a promise, Leon, not a threat.”

“C’mon, be reasonable here.”

“You’re still not telling me.” 

“It’s for you, silly.” Leon tilts his head, face heating up faster than the book light bulb, “You’re my Secret Santa.” 

He must be hallucinating the pink in your cheeks.

“Oh,” you breathe. 

“Yes, oh,” Leon teases, scooching to sit next to you. “I couldn’t think of anything,” he confesses, “so I just went with the basics. I know you read and I know you really miss your old tea mug, the one that broke, right? You’re my gifting competition and I got nervy from how sure you were about your person’s gift. So, um, I played safe.” Leon finishes lamely and squeezes his eyes shut, hoping the light doesn’t also illuminate the shame radiating from his body. 

And then he feels the press of an unbelievably soft kiss on his cheek.  

“It’s much better than what I’ve got,” he hears. 

His eyes fly open. Words don’t form right in his throat when you reach out for the package you dropped when the lights went out. Wrapping paper falls apart neatly in your hands (what don’t you do perfectly?) and you unveil a mini waffle iron, proportioned perfectly for somebody always running late without breakfast. Somebody like Leon.

“You keep missing breakfast and Irons is on my ass about saving you food all the time, so I guess took the practical route too,” you shuffle your feet, bashful all of a sudden. “And um, my gift’s kind of useless if we never make it out. Sorry.”

He fingers the tag in wonder. 

Merry Christmas, Leon! There’s a timer so you don’t burn them :) xoxo, your Secret Santa!

You’re so goddamn sweet. You’re perfect and thoughtful and it’s all your fault that Leon didn’t have the faintest clue what to give you. Think, Leon, think. He knows he’s not this stupid. What do you give to somebody who has everything? 

A kiss. One that’s all smiles and just as sweet as the way you kiss him back, because screw Secret Santa.

It’s hard to keep secrets when you’re Leon’s favorite one.

psst, find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!

[honeybeedrabble]

can i get a shikamaru x reader, where they are on a mission together to the sand village and perhaps only one bed 😈😈 (also include gaara if u can i love sand emos) - also only one tent and pillow wall

MDNI 18+

OMG. THIS !!!! mission sex? probably the hottest sex. at least for shinobi. something about shikamaru improperly using shadow paralysis while the Kazekage feels you up in his office 😳😳

CW: AFAB reader x shikamaru x gaara, somnophilia, mission sex, only one tent, only one sleeping bag, handjob, cum eating (?), eiffel tower, MFM threesome, improper use of shadow possession, pet names, unprotected piv (don’t be stupid), cream pie (don’t be stupid), oral (m receiving) lmk what else lol

September 22. It was September 22, Shikamaru’s 19th birthday and yet he was summoned by the Hokage for a mission. Sure, he could’ve just declined, everyone told him to anyways, but Shikamaru knew some things had to be done. And yeah, he complained the whole time that it was ‘a drag to work on his birthday’ but with his wallet running slimmer by the day, a low risk mission to the hidden sand didn’t seem like the worst idea for a couple ryō. He figured he’d throw a bigger belated birthday party after he got paid so to him it was whatever.

When he was summoned to the Hokages quarters and saw that he wouldn’t be alone, but instead paired up with you? Oh baby… it was a win-win for Shikamaru all around. The mission itself was easy, travel to the hidden sand, deliver a few scrolls and plant a few medicinal herbs native to konoha. Since the war has been passed for a few years, the allied nations don’t seem to have any animosity towards each other and the path ahead should be clear.

It didn’t take long for you two to head out, traveling west to the village. You hadn’t exactly come prepared, telling Shikamaru that you had already been assigned for this mission before he had so you had only packed one tent and one sleeping bag. Luckily you had enough hindsight to see you might have some food or water shortages, especially in the desert heat, and rations weren’t an issue.

When traveling, Shikamaru told you to lead the way so he could keep a better eye on you. But to be honest, he was just staring at your ass the whole time, watching your hips sway side to side after each step you took. It caught him off gaurd when you turned you head to speak to him.

“Hey, isn’t it your birthday?” you asked, ignoring the feeling you thought you caught him staring at your ass (you did).

“Yeah, why’d you ask?”

“I dunno, I guess never took you for the type to not celebrate your birthday.” You replied with a shrug. Shikamaru raised a brow.

“ What d’you mean?”

“Well I mean… going on a three day mission to the hidden sand and back doesn’t quite strike me as a celebration,” you said with a laugh. Shikamaru chuckled.

“I guess you’re right. It is a real drag having to do this but I need the money anyways. Besides, if I didn’t come you’d be out here all by yourself, who’d protect you then?” He smirked. You blushed, shrugging off your flustered reaction with an eye roll.

“Pft, maybe someone who brought their own sleeping bag,” you teased.

“Touché. But you have to admit, the company’s nice.”

“It is... Happy birthday, Shikamaru.”

“Thanks.”

______________________________________________

You two had somehow traveled a little ways past the halfway point, and you could tell by how late it was partnered with how tired you felt. After a long dinner of canned soup, protein bars, jerky and dried fruit you had pulled out the tent. Snapping each piece together with a small click each time. You threw the cover on and tucked in the corners, zipping the tents zippers in place before unzipping and crawling in. Once you were in you rolled out your sleeping bag.

“Do you want to share?” You asked, unzipping the zipper and opening up the bag. Shikamaru was slightly taken aback and shook his head.

“No it’s fine, s’my fault I didn’t pack a bag, I don’t want to inconvenience you.” He said, laying down on the grass. You cocked an eyebrow at him.

“It’s big enough for the both of us, trust me I’ve had to do this on a few missions before. Nothing I’m not used to.” You reassured, laying down inside. You motioned with your hands for him to come inside and he let out a small huff.

“Fine, but only cause you wore me down.” He said, trying to hide his excitement.

He crawled into the tent, immediately he could tell how much warmer it was with you. Shikamaru got in next to you and zipped the bag up behind him. He nestled closer to you and you flipped on your side facing away from him, and he settled in against your back in the snug sleeping bag.

“I’m sorry about your birthday,” you said, still facing away. His head sunk lower near yours.

“Don’t worry. It’s going a lot better than I thought it was,” he said low and sleepy.

You had fallen asleep pretty fast, he could tell because of the soft, steady breaths you took besides him. While you were happily sleeping, you didn’t anticipate occasionally grinding into him. The push of your ass was enough to keep Shikamaru awake, and he couldn’t help himself from sleepily grinding into you. When you stirred for a moment Shikamaru stilled immediately, his heart pounding out of his chest. When he heard your sleepy sighs and breaths he went back to his prior movements.

He continued to press himself against you, moving when you did. The curve of your ass hugging the outline of his dick euphorically. However, the pleasure was subsided by his need for sleep and his hips stopped meeting yours in an attempt to save energy. He realized most of the grinding was on his part and not yours, when he stopped you had. Slowly he drifted off, fighting the urge to not jerk himself off under your shared sleeping bag while you dreamt.

_______________________________________________

The second day you two had decided to take things easier and walk half of the time rather than run. While you were leading, Shikamarus gaze felt hungrier. Everytime you looked back, his eyes lingered on your ass far too long to be a coincidence. You had a feeling yesterday, but today had confirmed your suspicions.

“So, what are you planning on doing when you get home?” You asked him, turning your head to look at him. His eyes lingered on your ass for a few seconds shamelessly before snapping up and meeting yours.

“I’m going straight home, I’ve got something in mind,” he said, his lips curling into a small smirk. You were confused.

“What do you mean? Are you gonna have the party at your house?” You asked. Shikamaru let out a small laugh, his hand reaching down to adjust his crotch, his semi hard on making itself present.

“Sure, I guess I can call it a party. But it’s gonna be a party of just myself, unless you wanted to join me?” His eyes had gotten darker and filled with lust as they returned to your ass. You felt your face heat and you felt naked under Shikamarus gaze.

“Um… sure. We can have a small party before everyone gets there. You said you wanted it at your house?” You asked, trying desperately to get his attention. He looked up at your again, his hand adjusting his pants again.

“More specifically my bedroom,” he whispered coming up behind you. He brushed the back of his hand against your ass before passing you and taking the lead himself with you to follow.

____________________________________________________________

That night when sleeping with Shikamaru in the tent under your sleeping bag, Shikamaru was a mess. He spent 24 hours sexually frustrated, all while he was alone with you. He was a wreck and couldn't help himself to the cruve of your ass for a second night. He was sure you were alseep, but he didn't care if you werent.

He wrapped his arms around you, mercilessly grinding himself into your hips while you stirred underneath him. You couldn't fall back asleep with his movements and you were so turned on it was almost painful. You could feel yourself drenched with arousal as he abused your ass cheeks with his hard cock. You didn't know if you should pretend to be asleep or rock your hips into him and risk him stopping.

Shikamaru was animalistic, growling and whimpering into your ear as his arms flexed around your core, and you couldn't pretend for any longer. You smashed yourself into his groin, grinding pleasantly against his dick. An arm came out from its grip on your waist and gripped your wrist tightly. He unbuckled his pants with the other and brought your hand down to his boxers, where he palmed himself with your hand.

You couldn't help but gasp lightly, feeling how large he swelled under your touch. He hissed as your fingers traced the outline, then shoved his boxers aside for his dick to spring out. He guided your hand to his dick, where you reached out for his tip. He let out a shaky exhale as you smeared his precum around his angry tip, dragging the liquid arousal down his shaft and back up. He groaned in your ear, fucking your fist from behind as you lay at your side.

"Shit- you've got some soft hands." He let out between breaths, slowing his pace to feel every crease of your palm wrapped around his cock.

He picked up his pace, suddenly feeling too crazed with lust to savor your touch. He reached under you, pulling your other arm behind you to add to his pleasure. You whined, rubbing your thighs together sleepily for any friction you could get, the stitch of your pants working just enough to have you craving more. You closed your eyes, imagining how his cock looked soaking wet with his own precum as you jerked him off, his heavy, euphoric breaths mixing with the squelch of your grip on his shaft.

You pumped upwards, your thumb circling his drooly tip and he whined bucking himself into your finger.

"Ah- fuckkk. Do that again. Get as much as you can and slather it over my cock." he instructed, his voice straining. You did, dragging his precum and coating his shaft with the liquid. His breath hitched for a second, grapsing your hands from behind you and cupping them together in front of his tip.

"Fuck-Fuck-Fuck," He moaned heavily, grasping his dick and angrilly pumping it with his own hands. "Ngh- fuck. ahhh..." He spilled his thick ropes into your hands, the ribbons full and heavy. As soon as he finished cumming he dragged his dick into the cupped seed, fucking your hands one last time before putting himself away.

"Eat up," he smirked, whispering in your ear lazily. He fell asleep soon after and you wiped your hands off on your pants with your inner thigh. You licked a finger, tasting his cum and felt hornier than ever. You had to go to sleep that night without touching yourself, not wanting to get his leftover cum inside of you.

__________________________________________________________

The next morning morning neither of you spoke about the previous night. Shikamaru was internally cursing himself for being so unprofessional and letting his perversions get to him. You however, were craving more. You didn’t get to see him that night, how his eyebrows knotted and his eyes pinched shut as his mouth fell open letting out pleasurable moans while cumming several roles into your palms. You thought about it a lot and by the time you two reached the hidden sand you were soaking.

These scrolls were important and by no means was anyone allowed to open or read the contents inside. In order to prevent any curious eyes, you and Shikamaru were ordered to deliver them to the Kazekage himself. When you entered the building the Kazekag was sat at his desk, the room empty as he awaited your arrival.

“Ah, the hidden leaf shinobi. I take it that the journey was easy?” He asked.

“Yeah, the way over wasn’t too bad, Lord Gaara.” Shikamaru said, stepping in with you to follow, closing the door behind you.

“Thats a relief, I’m aware that your birthday was two days ago so I apologize for the abrupt mission. And please Shikamaru, no reason to be so formal with such an old friend.” Gaara said with a small smile. Shikamaru nodded. “And hello to you too,” Gaara said, switching the conversation towards you. You smile.

“Hello, Lord Gaara! It’s nice seeing you again. I wish it was under different circumstances though, with the journey back we’ll have to get on our way soon.” You sigh sadly.

“Now now, no need to rush. I haven’t seen you in a while, why don’t you sit down? I missed you.” Gaaras voice was lower, his eyes gently looking into yours. You felt hot suddenly, and definitely didn’t want to act weird around the Kazekage. You needed some air.

“Um, sure. Sorry, I’ll be back I just need some air.” You said, fanning yourself. You spun around and headed for the door when suddenly your body froze in place. You grunted trying to move your legs when you watched thick, black stripes make their way up your legs. Your eyes widened, turning you head behind you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Shikamaru asked demandingly, his eyes narrowed looking at yours. Shadow paralysis. He walked up to you and turned you around, still stuck in his jutsu.

“What are you doing, Captain?” you whined, looking back at the men in front of you. Shikamaru wandered behind you, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck.

“Fuck- I’ve been thinking about this all mission. That handy you gave me last night isn’t nearly enough, I need you.” he breathed heavy into your skin. You felt your body shake, a vibration sent down your spine as Shikamaru nibbled gently on your delicate skin. You watched through half lidded eyes as Gaara approached you, his hands sliding between your shirt and vest and he slid the vest off- it hit the floor with a light thud.

“I haven’t seen you in months,” He whispered, grabbing your waist and rubbing small circles with his thumbs. “I almost forgot how you felt,” He added. Gaara grabbed the end of your shirt, pulling it over your head slowly and watching as your skin started to reveal itself under the lifted fabric. As he tossed the garment to the floor, Shikamaru was quick to undo your bra clasps, pushing the straps off your shoulders as the underwear landed on your shirt and vest on the ground.

“So beautiful,” Gaaras eyes were blown and dark, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you into him. His head dipped down to your tits, popping a hardened nipple into his mouth and rolling it between his tongue. You couldn’t help but let out a soft breath, still unable to move the paralysis placed on you. You tried struggling with the jutsu, yet ultimately unable to undo yourself from Shikamarus power.

He grabbed your head and pulled it to the side, then pulled himself into your lips, crashing into you with a messy kiss. You moaned into his mouth, your cunt already wet with arousal as Gaara fondled your other fit in his hand. Shikamaru was able to silence your moans with his tongue as it lazily lapped at yours slowly and softly. He opened his mouth and a trail of spit connected you two together.

“Goddamn, you make me crazy. I ought to bend you over that desk and take you for myself.” Shikamaru said, grabbing a fistful of your ass. You whined, the feeling of his shadow around you tightening.

“Don’t be selfish. You can have her all you want back at the leaf, I don’t have that luxury,” Gaara said, popping your tit out of his mouth with a pop. “Ngh- I want to touch you… be inside you… taste you… I have to have you, beautiful. Right on my desk.” Gaara picked you up, Shikamarus shadow possession allowing you to wrap your legs around him.

He brought you to his desk, Shikamaru standing in front of it with you and Gaara behind. You felt the jutsu gently leave, allowing you to move better. You bent of the desk, Gaaras chest pressed against your back as his hands trailed down your stomach down to your core. He unbuttoned you pants from the back, grabbing the zipper and slowly pulling it down. He then lifted off of you and pulled your pants and panties off together. He whimpered softly as he watched your slick covered underwear fall down your thighs. You stepped out of your pants, naked and splayed out on the desk, shaking gently in arousal.

“I knew it, you were wet,” Gaara groaned, palming his erection through his pants. Shikamaru smirked, undoing his pants and sliding them half way down his thighs. You reached for his boxers, grabbing his waistband and freeing his hard cock. You whined in excitement, pleased by the sight of his hard dick already wet with precum.

Gaara thrusted his clothed dick into your wet cunt, you breathed deeply, tossing your head back to look back at him. He backed off just to undo his own pants, freeing his own sizable dick. You watched as he rubbed the head of his cock against your wet entrance and you both moan in need. He pushed slightly in, you moaned heavily as you felt him part you in half, his thick cock already nudging a spongy spot inside of you. He pushed the rest of his length in and bottomed out inside of you with a raspy groan.

Shikamaru was getting impatient, gliding his hand up and down his girthy length. He positioned his head at your opened mouth and you accepted his angry red tip with gratitude. He hisses in delight, his fingers digging into your hair as your slid him down your throat until he hit the back. You gagged around his length, then slowly released him, grabbing his dick and licking his tip to taste his salty precum, remembering what little you tasted last night.

“You look so beautiful with dick in your mouth. Ngh- feel so warm… so wet… Ahh, I can’t help myself.” Gaara huffed out, slowly sliding out of you before roughly thrusting himself into you again. You moaned around Shikamarus cock, slick running down your thighs as the momentum pushed you further down Shikamarus shaft. Shikamaru winced, his grip on your hair loosening.

“Sucking dick like a natural, I don’t even think I need to put in any work,” He smirked, resting his hand on the back of your head as Gaara stuffed you full of his rock-hard cock. He stuffed you roughly with a tight grip on your hips, you chocking on Shikamarus cock as he gasped in delight.

“Good girl,” Shikamaru praised, running a hand through your hair. You eyes watered as you looked up at him through your lashes, grabbing onto his thighs.

“So tight.. Oh fuuck you’re running down my thighs. Ahhh, beautiful girl, I’m going to miss this pussy,”Gaara grunted, pistoning you full with each snap of his hips. You drooled down Shikamarus cock, your jaw sore from his jolting thrusts inside you mouth. You tan your tongue up and down, tracing a vein that ran along his shaft as his precum continued to fill your mouth.

“Good girl, sucking me like a perfect cock whore. Shit… I’m almost there baby.” Shikamaru stifled, his hips gently thrusting into the back of your throat. You whined around his length, wishing that the pleasure would never end, regardless of your own high quickly approaching.

“Go ahead, love. Cum on this dick. I want to see you choke on his dick as you choke my cock,” Gaara lewdly growled, thirsting into you faster. Shikamaru groaned deeply as you moaned, the vibrations of your throat stimulating him in a new way as he came several ropes into your mouth. You tried swallowing each mouthful as you clenched around Gaaras cock, pulsing around him as warm, salty cum was poured down your throat.

“Fuuuck! Ahh- oh god… Your mouth is so good, you did so good.” Shikamaru praises, bending down to your level and holding your face in his hands as Gaara continues to sloppily fuck you. Shikamaru kissed you, sliding his tongue back into your mouth and tasting himself on your lips. You moan in his mouth still cumming around Gaara as his grip on your hips tighten.

“Ohhh… Yes! Almost, almost- I’m almost there. You’re s-so good,” Gaara breathed. “Cum with me,” Gaara said, hitting your spots just right. Your core aches as you came undone on his Kazekage desk, Shikamaru kissing you all over as Gaara pummeled you and then stilled, cumming deep inside of your pulsating cunt.

“Fuck! T-Thank you, Lord Gaara!” You cried into Shikamarus mouth, your legs shaking as the man behind you overstimulated you into a moaning puddle. Shikamaru planted one last kiss on your lips before he stood up and tucked himself away into his pants. Gaara lay ontop of you, occasionally pushing himself into you as he slowly softened until he pulled out, his cum spilling onto your naked thighs. He kissed the nape of you neck deeply, then stood up and pulled back up his boxers and pants.

You lie there fucked out and stupid, Shikamaru and Gaara exchanged scrolls while Shikamaru went digging through your bag for medicinal herbs that you brought with you.

“Excuse me, Shikamaru?” Gaara asked, completely ignoring the fact you were still naked and shuddering on his desk. Shikamaru raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?” He asked.

“I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday one last time,” Gaara smiled. Shikamaru stifled a laugh.

“Thanks, I think this might’ve been my best birthday so far.” He smirks, his gaze landing on you. You whimpered in embarrassment, still naked as the men in front of you softly embraced you in their stares.

[justmeinadaze]

Secret Underneath Part 8 (Steddie X Plus Size You)

Warnings: Older (Mid thirties) Sugar Daddies Steve and Eddie/ Young (Early to mid 20s) Baby Fem Plus Size Reader, SMUT, dirty talk, dp, skinny dipping, FLUFF, they love each other. They get to hang out with the readers best friend so she's protective <3

ANGST, not much (I know, weird! Lol), Boys hang out with reader and her bestie so she does quiz them a lot. Eddie talks about missing Wayne and gives reader more insight into his parents, Steve does that same.

Word Count: 4862

Series here/ Donate to Me <3

“Look, I’ve been her best friend since middle school so I’m not going to be as easy to suck up to as her parents.”, Mya announced making you smile beside her as you four continued to eat. 

“Pfft, that was easy?”, Steve asked playfully as he stuck a fry into his mouth. 

It had been a few days since the guys had shown up and in a couple more you would have to get ready to fly back home to get prepared for the new semester. The new year flew by with little to no fanfare and both men doubled down on your post by taking pictures with you and posting them on their socials. 

Their lawyers weren’t exactly thrilled stating they thought both men should lay low but they didn’t care. They wanted the whole world to know how much they loved you as a person and not because of what their ex was saying. Beside that one post you made, you still stayed away from your phone for fear of what you may read. You weren’t ready to handle any of that at a constant basis nor did you have any idea how you would handle it when you went to work but you decided you’d cross that bridge when you got there. 

Since he was the most recognizable, Eddie had his hair up and behind a cap as he ate but a few tendrils fell around his face almost dipping into the sauce of his plate before you reached over and moved it behind his ear. 

“Thank you, babe.”, he garbled with a full mouth making his friend roll his eyes as you giggled. 

“So what’s the plan for today?”

“Mya and I were thinking we could go to the little carnival down the way here. It’s an annual thing that we used to go to all the time growing up.”, you beam as your best friend leans on your shoulder. 

“That sounds like fun.”, the mogul smiles as he digs into his wallet and places his credit card next to the bill that the waiter hastily comes to pick up. 

“I can pay for my meals, Steven.”

“I know, Mya. Think of it as a Christmas gift since I wasn’t able to bring you anything.” Quirking his eyebrow towards her, she smirks in amusement before giving in and nodding her head. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Munson.”, a little voice shyly asks as a small boy appears at the rockstar’s side. “May I have your sign?”, he continues, holding up his hand in a waving motion to signal he wants an autograph. 

“Yeah, buddy, uh…”, Eddie’s eyes scan around the table, thanking you when you reach into your bag to grab a pen. “What’s your name?”

“Wayne.”

Eddie blinks and you see his smile falter for a moment before it widens again as he signs the paper the little boy handed him. 

“You know, that’s my uncle’s name. He taught me to play guitar when I was a bit older than you. Can you play guitar to?” The child shakes his head and the man laughs. “You have to learn, little dude. Maybe one day you’ll be on stage with me when I’m old and gray.”

The boy laughs as he thanks him and runs off towards his parents who silently thank him with a wave. 

“That was cute…Did you hire him?”

“Yup. You caught me, Mya. That’s actually my illegitimate son and those people posing as his parents are from my entourage.”, he replies with snark without missing a beat. 

Your best friend glances your way as you beam up at her with a “told you so” grin on your face that makes her own smile widen.

“Point one goes to you gentlemen. Let’s go have some fun.”

***

You giggle as Eddie tries to “root” for his friend as Steve and Mya go head-to-head shooting basketballs into the basket in front of them. 

“Come on, man. You were MVP in high school. She’s kicking your ass.”

“You’re not helping, asshole.”, the mogul breathily laughs.

The buzzer beeps loudly and his head falls as your best friend claps, raising her hands high in the air in victory. 

“I’m ashamed of you.”, the rockstar sighs jokingly before laughing when Steve pushes his arm. 

After extending his palm as an olive branch, Mya shakes it with big smile on her face. 

“I feel like together we could be stronger, My. What say we kick their ass in bumper cars?”

“Sounds like a plan, Steven.”

Throughout the evening, your best friend had not only been listening to the guys but watching how they treated you, taking in every little thing they did. When you went to lunch not only did they pull out your chair but hers. While walking up to the carnival area, they made sure to be on the side nearer the street for you both and always ran ahead to open any door that needed to be opened. Their physical mannerisms seemed to display a radiance of protective energy. When they weren’t attentively listening to the stories you both were telling, their eyes were scanning the area to make sure everything was alright. 

Even now, she watched as Eddie held your hand to help you into the bumper and then once you were seated he helped buckle you in before making you laugh as he pretended to speed off as the car remained still. 

“Munson is going to be ruthless I hope you know.”, Steve chuckles as he climbs in beside Mya.

“I can buckle my own seatbelt, Steven.”

“I would hope so.”, he grins after clicking the strap and leaning back as he waits for the ride to start. 

“So can she.”

The mogul’s face straightened as he turned to meet her eyes that were scanning his features. He understood what she meant and you had explained the other night that Mya knew what you were into in your private life. You trusted her with something so personal and he appreciated that. That’s how he felt about Eddie as a friend when it came to things they did. He wouldn’t have entered a shared relationship with him if he didn’t. 

“We know she can. It’s one of the reasons we love her…because she can handle herself. We love her strength and her sassy ass which after meeting you and her parents makes a lot of sense.” Steve smiles when your best friend laughs. 

“After everything happened, I looked you guys up. I tried to tell her things but she insisted she’d rather hear it from you. Obviously she knows about Gina but does she know about your dad? Does she know about the expose he did on you after giving you his company?”

“If she read that she’s never said. Y/N isn’t much of a business person and that was almost 10 years ago.”

“He doesn’t seem to have any real empathy towards you or your mother.”

“What’s your point, Mya?”, he snapped before realizing his tone and sighing. “I’m sorry. I just—”

“No, no. I get it. Trust me, I get it. That’s why I’m so protective over her. Y/N’s family has been there for me through everything and I see her as my sister. Holden took her away from us and everything she knew before breaking her heart. She looks at you two differently than she ever looked at him. She feels safe with you…so if you ever pull that bullshit again I will come after you.”, she warns as she raises her eyebrows and Steve tries to hide his smile. 

“Noted. I promise if that ever happens, which it won’t, we’ll fly down here personally for you to kill us.”

Eddie’s hand reaches for yours as he leans back and waits for the ride to start. 

“She’s definitely grilling him right now.”, the rockstar grins as he gestures with his head towards your friends. 

“Oh, 100%. I’m sorry if she comes off as rough. She’s been through a lot and has a hard exterior but her heart is soft…kind of like you.”, you grin up at him as he chuckles. “I wanted to ask you, um, are you ok after talking to that little boy? You seemed kind of sad after.”

“Yeah, I’m ok. I just miss my uncle sometimes. He’s very much like my father figure, you know, and being in Indiana…I don’t get to see him as much as I want. He, uh, he adores you.”

“Me? Edward Munson have you been talkin’ about me?”, you tease.

“Maybe.”, he grins as he kisses your forehead. “Maybe we could bring you home one weekend or even during the summer so you could meet him and some of our friends. I mean…if you want to…you don’t…have to.”

Your lips tenderly kiss his as you rest your chin on his shoulder. 

“I’d love to.”

The car underneath you suddenly comes to life gradually moving you and everyone around you forward.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s kick their ass.”

***

“Were you nice?”, you ask Mya as you walk her to her front door.

“I was nice enough.”

“So no then?”, you laugh as she smiles. 

“They do seem to care a lot about you and they are genuine which I appreciate. Holden only met with me that one time and I never heard from him again. You think I would have with how long you two were together.” 

“I’m sorry for that…for leaving you…”

“No reason to be sorry, honey. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy. I’m always going to be here for you.”

“Everything alright?”, Steve asks after you return to the car. 

“Yeah, I just really missed her.”

You giggle as Eddie crawled over the middle console making his friend playfully huff as he tumbled into the backseat to sit beside you. 

“Maybe sometime soon we can invite her up so she can hang out and see New York.”

You grin as you lean towards him to place a tender kiss on his lips. 

“Can I show you guys something?”

########################

Both men’s eyebrows furrowed when you directed them to a college nearby but even more so when you guided them to a building that was locked. 

“Ok, Eddie, baby. Can you lift me to that window please?”

“No.”, he answered sternly yet with a hint of teasing underneath. 

“Oh, come on, Daddy. I would never do anything to get you in trouble.”, you joke with a smile before Steve finally steps forward and helps lift you into the building. After a couple of minutes, they heard the lock on the other end clink open and were met with your beaming face when you opened the front door, ushing them inside. 

“This is the college I graduated from. We kind of had this club of cool kids who were able to come here and hangout. If the window is unlocked that means no one is here. I locked it after climbing through so it’ll just be us. Apparently students have been doing this for decades.”

“Where are we exactly?”, the rockstar asked as you three continued to walked down the hallway. After entering another room, the smell of chlorine hit them immediately.

They hear what sounds like a button being pressed and suddenly lights within a large pool illuminate the area. 

“Oh, wow.”

Both men watch with fascination and amusement as you remove all your clothes before diving in the water. 

“Are you coming?”

After removing their own garments as well, Steve gradually slid in whereas Eddie followed your lead and jumped in making you giggle as water splashed around you.

“We used to come in here after hours and just swim…talk about the future…maybe have a beer or two.” When you laugh, they laugh with you. “This was such a highly guarded secret and hard to make it into the club to hang out here. I always felt safe here with Mya and my other friends.”

“I’ve never brought anyone here before.”

Their heads turn as their gaze shift towards you, understanding the implications behind those words. Again, you were trusting them with something special to you and opening your heart. They needed to do the same. 

“We didn’t have anything cool like this at my college. I mean obviously we had a pool but…I went to a swanky business school which was my dad’s alma mater and I fucking hated it.”, Steve chuckles. “Ed kept me entertained through those four years, taking me to concerts and movie premieres when he got more popular.”

“Pfft, yeah it took a while. I think our first song started finding steam right when he was about to graduate.”

“When did your dad give you the company?”, you ask.

“It took about a year or so to pry it from him and even then he, uh, he struggled. He did an exposé on me a month after…the journalist asked him if he had faith in my ability. He said and I quote ‘If I had another Harrington to give it to I would but he’ll do fine I’m sure.’”

“Jesus. What an asshole. You showed him though with how far that company has gone.” Swiveling your head towards Eddie, your eyes meet his soft ones. “You didn’t go to college right?”

“Lord, no ma’am. My uncle wanted me to but it all sounded expensive and useless.”, he laughed as he swam closer to wall where you two were floating around. “Believe or not my dad went to college and he still ended up in jail. I just wanted to play my guitar.”

“I love the way you play. Even before I met you.”, you smile his way. “What was your mom like?”

“She, uh, she was kind and loved music. She was unbelievably funny, always making jokes that made me laugh.”, he grinned back at you. “To this day I still don’t understand why she fell for my dad. Probably why I’m terrified of becoming him.”

“You don’t have it in you…neither do you, Steve. With all the stories you’ve told me, you’re nothing like them. I think that’s why you both fell for Gina…because you think you’re capable of it. You attract what you fear sometimes… And just like with her and your fathers, I will kick your ass if you continue to think so negatively about yourselves!”

They chuckle as Steve grabs you and pulls you till your legs are around his waist. You sigh pleasantly as he kisses your forehead before you rest it against his own. 

“She asked to meet with me, your ex.”

His eyes shifted into that protective mode as the mogul blinked and cupped your face in his hands. 

“Stay away from her, Y/N, ok? Unless one of us is with you.”

“I’m not afraid of her—”

“This isn’t about fear, honey. She can do a lot more that physically harm you.”

“So, you can confront my ex but I can’t with yours?”

“You were with us!”, he growled before Eddie patted his forearm, signaling for him to let you go. 

“Do you want to meet with her?”, the rockstar inquired calmly.

As you tilt back against the mogul’s grasp, you shook your head. 

“I know she won’t tell me the truth. I just thought you two should know that she reached out to me personally. I haven’t looked at my phone since that thing I posted so I don’t know if she’s tried again.”

“Ok. Ok, sweetheart. If you change your mind, just let us know. We would prefer to be with you if that’s alright. We wouldn’t need to be in the same room just within the vicinity at least.”

Oh, vicinity.”, you tease trying to lighten the mood again. “Officer Munson kind of has a ring to it.”

“Pfft. Yeah it does. The way I would utilize those handcuffs.”, he groans as he grabs your waist and maneuvers you till your back is against the wall with your arms circled around his neck. 

“Like you don’t have some already.”, you grin. “I’ve, um, never made love in a pool before.”

Eddie blinks as his head playfully ticks to the side. 

“Didn’t we fuck you in a jacuzzi?”

“Oh my god, that does not count. It’s not a pool!”

“It’s an area filled with water.”

“Oh, oh, ok Steve. I’d like to see you swim laps in a jacuzzi!” As you giggle almost uncontrollably, you pull the rockstar into your embrace and hug him tightly to you. When your laughter subsides, your fingers thread through his hair as you feel his nose graze your neck. “I love you, Eddie.”, you whisper, softly smiling when he tilts back to pet your head. 

“I love you to, sweetheart. Fuck, I’m never going to get tired of hearing you say that.”, he exhales almost breathlessly before his lips kiss yours. As you reach between your bodies, his eyes close as his head dips back as you gradually run your palm along his cock. 

“You wanna see something?”, Steve murmurs, kissing your cheek when you nod your head. Tugging you lightly away from the wall, the mogul adjusts you so you’re floating on your back with his hand cradling the back of your neck. “I got you, honey. Daddy’s right here.”

Water lightly moves beneath you before you suddenly feel your legs resting on Eddie’s shoulders with his cheeks graze your thighs. His warm breath is an interesting contrast to the slightly cold water you three are floating in and you can’t help but moan as your pussy clenches around nothing. Steve’s mouth attaches to your neck as the rockstar’s tongue flicks against your clit making your eyes roll shut. 

“F-Fuck, that feels so good.”

“I think this is the closest I’ve gotten to you riding my face, princess. That was one of the—God, you smell amazing—first things we talked about, remember?”, Eddie asked in a husky voice as his nose continued to prod at your little bundle of nerves. 

“Yes, Daddy. I remember.” The mogul’s large palm reached over to massage your breast as the tips of his fingers ran along your nipple. “Please… I want to cum.”

“And we just want to play with you, baby.”, Steve smiles as your mouth falls open and Eddie begins devouring your cunt, his hands digging into your hips to hold you against him. “Maybe when we get back home, we can utilize those restraints and just keep you in our bed all day. Can you imagine that? Just…tune out the outside world for 24hrs…and keep you with us for one day to play with.”

As he spoke, his lips trailed kisses down your skin till his tongue found the erect bud on your tit causing a loud moan to leave your mouth as he lightly pulled it with his teeth before swirling his tongue along the sensitive area.

“To play with you whenever we wanted and really get to know your body.”

“I-If…you don’t know…my body by now…I’m worried.”, you breathily laugh, feeling them both smile against your flesh. 

Eddie’s tongue rapidly licked in and out of your core as your fingers roughly clung to Steve’s hair and your back arched. 

“Oh, we know your body, honey, but we want to learn and discover more of you in ways no one else ever has. Things you didn’t even know about yourself.”

Your legs around the rockstars neck trembled as you came. 

Pushing your limbs down and around his waist, Eddie pulled you up till your arms were around his neck and floated with you back towards the edge of the pool. 

“Can I have you both?”

“Yeah, yeah, baby. Let me just…” Keeping a strong hand on your back, he swims with you to stairs nearby and sits high enough so the top of his chest is visible above water. “Your knees aren’t scrapping the asphalt of the steps or anything right?”

“No, Daddy.”, you pant as you kiss his lips and lower yourself onto his length. 

Subtly rocking your hips, you allow your body to get comfortable as you wait for the palm that places itself on your shoulder. 

“Ready, honey?”

“Yes, Daddy. I love you, Steve.”

With a soft smile, his fingers lightly grip your chin to tilt your head and deliver you a tender kiss.

“I love you to, Y/N.” His gorgeous eyes remained locked on yours as he carefully began guiding himself into your ass. “Mmph—no, no, no, baby. Keep those beautiful eyes open for Daddy.”

It was so hard to follow his command as they both slowly started thrusting into you but desperately did everything you could to follow through. You loved watching their faces every time they took care of you. In a sexual realm, their faces would scrunch differently in ways you found utterly fascinating. Steve’s perfect head of hair would fall along his forehead or frame his face as his eyes would roam your body. It was almost calculated which would make sense with the business minded man he was. He would physically take in any little movement, jiggle, or moan and store it in his memory to utilize whatever he did to please you again in the future. As he got closer to his release his jaw would tighten and his eyes would close as he fully succumbed to the feeling of you with grunts and an eagerness that drove you crazy. 

Eddie was all feeling and passion in more ways than one. His hands and lips always wanted to be on you especially when he was inside you. He wanted his senses to be absorbed in everything in the moment. He wanted to see you fall apart, hear you scream his name or title, touch your sweat tripping skin, taste your lips, and feel you shudder around him as you came undone. Sometimes he wanted those things so bad that his brain would almost shut off and he would lose all self-control as he pounded into you not caring if the bed banging against the wall was too loud or both your moans mixed together could wake people in their building. 

When they were taking care of you out in the world, it was more or less the same. Steve would take note of the surroundings to make sure you three were safe anywhere you went. His eyes would follow you when they took you shopping and made mental notes of every item you mentioned or even touched as you absently grazed it with your fingers. You figured out pretty quickly that he learned all your tells for when you were hiding things especially to make them feel more comfortable. 

 “You don’t like this, do you?”, Steve asked while you three were watching tv one Saturday. 

“No! I like this show a lot.”, you defended making him smile at your incessance. 

“Uh huh. You’re doing that thing you do with your hair when you’re zoning out.”

Narrowing your eyes his way, you can’t help but giggle as you sigh. 

“I like the show…I just don’t like the host. He comes off like a huge asshole being mean to these contestants who probably worked really hard to be here.”

“Why didn’t you just say that, baby. We can watch something else and he IS an asshole by the way.”, he jokes.

“You watch stuff you don’t like to make me happy.”, you pout. 

“Says who? Everything you’ve shown us we love.”

“Like RuPaul’s Drag Race.”, Eddie added making you laugh as he started singing the theme. 

Eddie wanted to experience everything with you and did everything he could to keep a smile painted on your lips. Whether it was something small like a joke or a grand gesture like taking you to a concert where he danced and jumped around with you by his side, he savored it. With every hug, kiss, cuddle, or a gentle pet to your head, he felt like he was in heaven and would do anything to make you happy. 

“Hey, um, I’m working on this song and I was wondering if you could tell me what you think.”

“Ok.”, you beam as you take a seat in front of him on the floor near his windows. 

As he softly strummed his fingers along the guitar and his voice filled your ears, you realized the song he was playing was about you. When his eyes met your teary ones, he chuckled as he reached out to caress your cheek. 

“It’s beautiful, Eddie. I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s not finished but—”

“But it’s perfect already. Thank you so much.”, you coo as you tackle him and he laughs harder, falling onto his back with you in his arms. 

Eddie’s open mouth kisses against your chest had you mewling as you leaned your cheek on top of his head and your hands clung to the bottom of his neck. Little waves around you seemed to sway you forward and back into them as the pumped their hips a bit faster against you. 

Reaching around, you pressed your palm to the back of Steve’s head, holding him to your shoulder as he warmed your skin with his grunts of pleasure. Trembling between them, you whimpered their title as you came, loosely holding on to them as they chased their highs.

“Jesus fuck—“, Eddie whined with a strain in his voice before wrapping his arms tightly around you as he filled you up. Steve followed shortly after suffocating his moans into your neck as his fingers dug into your biceps. 

No one moved and you were fine with that as you held them to you. Tender kisses and soft murmurs of love gave you a comfort you never wanted to lose again as you silently prayed they would continue to keep their promise to you that what happened before would never happen again. 

“Do they have showers? Definitely not a good idea for you to go out in the cold with cold, damp hair.”

“Aw, thank you, mom.”, you tease causing Steve to playfully bite you as you laugh. “Yeah, they’re in the side there.”

###############

Your mom smiles at you from across the table as you sip your coffee and stare past her into your memories of the day before with a little smirk on your lips. 

“I know that look.”, she murmurs getting your attention. “When your father took me out on our first date, I couldn’t stop smiling when I got home. Your grandma noticed and said ‘Yup. That’s the boy she’s gonna marry!’” You both laugh till it tapers off and she meets your eyes with a softness you know all too well. “You can’t marry them, honey. You know that right?”

You slowly nod.

“But you would if you could? Reputation be damned.”

After thinking for only a moment, you nod again. 

“Things with that bitch Gina Frost are probably about to make things harder. Add in their fans, her fans, and the world who ALWAYS has to have an opinion.”, she rolls her eyes. “Are you ready for all that.”

Biting your lip to stop the small quiver as your eyes become watery, you honestly shake your head causing your mother to nod. 

“But to you their worth it and you trust them to be there for you every step of the way.”, she responds matter of factly as if she already knows the answer. 

You firmly nod your head. 

“I already warned them that I won’t do…this…again but I trust them when they say they’ll never put me in that position again. I love them, mom.”

“Yeah… It’s disgusting isn’t it? Love.” 

“Oh, absolutely. Just fucking gross.”, you giggle as she laughs with you and grabs your hand. 

“What’s gross?”, your father asks as he comes in from smoking and takes a seat by your mother. 

“You are, dear.”

“Mhmm. I love you to.”, he beams as he leans forward to kiss her lips. “Now where are those pretty boys of yours. Breakfast is getting cold. EDWARD AND STEVEN! I DON’T KNOW HOW THEY DO IT IN YOUR MANSION IN NEW YORK BUT HERE WE EAT BREAKFAST AT 8:30AM!”

“I was trying to let them sleep in, dad.”

“Mhmm, no special treatment here. They want to be a part of the family then this is how we do things.”, he scoffed making you smile at his gruffness.

He liked them. 

Eddie appeared first with Steve gently pushing his back to guide him into the room and into a chair. The mogul leaned over and tenderly kissed your cheek before taking a seat on your other side, immediately placing his arm around the back so his fingers could casually run through your slightly messy, bed head hair. 

As you threw one of your legs over the rockstar’s, his eyes cracked open meeting your glowing ones as you tried to hide your laughter in your coffee cup. Lightly pinching your cheeks, he pulled your lips to his before leaving his palm on your knee where he would occasionally rub your skin through throughout breakfast as he slowly woke up. 

###########

@aol19 @paradisepoisons  @paleidiot @dashingdeb16

@lilaclazer @joannamuns9n @thwippyparker @emotionaldreamer

@aactuaaltraash @alastorssimp @mygirlchaos @starksbabie @imagine-all-the-imagines

[aventurinemybeloved]

Summary: Aventurine wouldn't mind being your personal mannequin forever if it meant having you this close to him

Fem!reader who's a popular fashion designer all throughout the universe, currently just "friends" with aventurine here, more like sugar daddy tho- very self indulgent because I have my oc in mind while writing this lol

"Not that I'm questioning your process when it comes to your craft, but aren't you tired?"

"Hm nope, not at all are you?"

"I've handled far worse than just standing for a few hours, don't mind me friend, continue"

While that wasn't exactly a lie, it has been a couple of hours since Aventurine was made to be a makeshift mannequin for you, this was supposed to be a day to relax and take both your mind off work.

But it seems that inspiration has struck the minute you laid eyes on a particular fabric store that just got a new stock on a handful of interesting designs, without a second thought you rushed in, your companion had looked away for one second and the next he sees that you've already made yourself comfortable shuffling through the many options to choose from.

As he made his way back to your side, the faint sound of you mumbling under your breath could be heard clearer and clearer, while he didn't quite catch all of it, he was able to piece some things, one of which you wishing you had your mannequin back at the boutique right about now.

"Hey, why not use me for a bit?"

While Aventurine obviously isn't a mannequin, he can sure act like one if you need it, and that you did so you agreed without putting much thought into it, making a mental note to make him a little something as thanks.

And now here you two were, in the middle of the store as you try to pin fabric with your hands on Aventurine's body, he expected this to happen after all he's not the type to willingly volunteer for something without it benefiting him in some way, but he was not prepared for how close you'd be.

Practically an inch away from him, chest against his as you maneuver the fabric in your hands all over him trying to come up with a design in mind, his nose catching a whiff of your shampoo as the top of your head was practically in his face, he's mastered the art of keeping a poker face but a couple hours of this, no one can blame the man for cracking as time goes on.

Luckily for him it seems you've finally finished whatever it was you were doing, he can't even remember even though you were talking about it earlier, his mind growing muddled with serotonin.

He managed to snap out of it as you call over a worker to place an order for your chosen items, and of course pay for it, Aventurine beat you to it though handing his card while softly smiling.

"It's on me"

"What? Aventurine I can pay for it myself, there's really no need to-"

"I insist, it's a treat for how much I enjoyed being your little helper"

Just as you were about to contradict him, insisting even more that you should be the one paying since he already helped you, the worker has already swiped his card handing it back to him and walked off to prepare your order.

You could only facepalm, this wasn't the first time that he has thwarted your attempts at paying for your own things, he's done it so many times you've lost count, and while it's a fact that all of it combined wouldn't make a dent in his wallet, you still couldn't hell but feel guilty.

Not for long though as you could feel a hand gently patting your head, peaking up at him you could see a soft smile on his face.

"You know the deal~" he said in a singsong way

You playfully rolled your eyes

"Yeah yeah, Just let me know when you're free and we'll hang out again"

It was weird to you at first how that was the only thing he wanted after spending so much on you, but overtime you've sorta started to understand it, and want it as much as he does as well.

[whimsiwitchy]

I hear the secrets that you keep (series)

chapter three: you make me nervous

Pedro Pascal x F!reader 

series masterlist

series summary: 24 year old y/n is an insecure and struggling actress in Los Angeles until she finally books a leading role in a big Hollywood movie next to her leading male, Pedro Pascal. A spark of friendship flickers between the two and slowly begins to blossom into something more. As y/n is navigating a new found fame and a new found romance, she fears that a lie she has been sitting on might ruin everything.

Warnings: plus size reader (no specific description of reader, slight descriptions of weight: stomach fat, stretch marks, etc.), hefty age gap (24 years/14 years), female anatomy description, she/her pronouns, use of gendered terms (girl, girly, etc.), y/n used, descriptions of nudity, swearing,  use of the word fat, warnings may change as the story progresses. 

authors note: Hi everyone. I just posted chapter two a few hours ago but my mind was buzzing with ideas lol. This chapter has a lot of awkward energy so I apologize in advance. Enjoy <3

chapter summary: y/n attends the table read for Risky Disco and gets to know Pedro. 

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

The week leading up to the table read seemed to drag on. Even though you kept yourself busy, it was like every time you looked at a clock, it ticked slower and slower. You were somewhat grateful for the delay as it gave you more time to prepare yourself for your first day working on Risky Disco. Not only did it delay your first day of work, it also delayed having to see Pedro again. You felt so silly. One ten minute interaction was invading your entire nervous system. To prepare yourself to see him again, you started watching interviews and clips of him acting. You wanted to know what his personality was like so you wouldn’t make a fool of yourself when you two are bound to cross paths fairly soon. Whenever you weren’t working your server job, you were reading through your script or watching videos on Pedro. You felt kind of weird finding out things about him when he would know nothing about you, but hey that’s the price of fame right? People knowing things about someone without that person knowing anything about them. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The table read was set to start at 9am. So naturally, you were up at 5am to get ready for the day. You took a quick shower and started to decide what to wear. Trying to keep comfort in mind, you scanned your closet for an outfit. Table reads usually include a lot of sitting so you knew you didn’t want to wear anything too tight around your stomach. You hated when you sat and your jeans would dig into your stomach or when your ‘baggy’ jeans tightened around your thigh when it flattened against whatever you were sitting on. You really wanted to look as cute as possible though, for yourself of course, not for anyone else…

You decided to wear a pair of sheer black pantyhose, with black shorts pulled over them, accompanied by a simple black v neck long sleeve shirt. For shoes you wore your trusty pair of classic docs. Once you were dressed, you worked on your hair and makeup, keeping it fairly simple. Looking at the time, it was now 7am. You made a quick breakfast and drank a cup of coffee. After you finished eating, you grabbed a tote bag and filled it with all of your essentials: your script, chapstick, lipstick, perfume, deodorant, and wallet. You then filled up your reusable water bottle, grabbed your keys and made your way out of the door. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The table read was taking place in the same building as the audition, making it a lot easier to find where to go and park. After parking your car, it was 8:30. You decided to go ahead and go inside. When you walked in, you spoke to a receptionist who told you what room to go to. As you neared the room, you realized that you were the first person here and for some reason that was embarrassing for you. Instead of going in, you lingered near the door and tried to look busy on your phone. After five minutes of opening and closing different apps, you heard someone walking down the hallway. You kept your head down and pretended to text someone so you didn’t look like such a loser. 

“Hey, y/n right?” 

Your entire body tensed up, you know that voice. You know that voice a little too well after all of your ‘research’. 

“I’m Pedro, I read lines with you during your audition.” You finally looked up and you almost let out a gasp. He was wearing a pair of light denim jeans, a basic black t-shirt, and a leather jacket. You let your eyes meet his and you saw that he also sported a baseball style cap with a pair of glasses. In conclusion, he looked good. Too fucking good. 

“Oh yeah that’s me. Hi, it’s nice to actually meet you.” You let out the words better than you thought you would. He gives you a smile and raises his hand to offer a handshake. You reach out and latch your hand to his. His hand was soft yet rough at the same time and it engulfed yours in a perfect way. You both let go and stand in silence for a moment. 

“So, just us so far?” he asked as he looked around. “Yea, I guess so. I feel like such a weenie getting here so early.” You cringed at your choice of words but Pedro let out a laugh. “Well, I definitely wouldn’t say you're a weenie.” he said with emphasis on the word ‘weenie’. “You’re professional, early is good.” You gave him a thankful smile. “I had this theater teacher that would hound us for not being on time. She would always say ‘early is on time and- ""-and on time is late.” he finishes the phrase for you and the two of you both let out a small laugh. “You hear that a lot in the acting world. Yet no one seems to follow it.” He says while looked down at his phone to check the time. 

Silence falls over you two and you start fidgeting with your fingers as a distraction. “Hey, why don’t we go ahead and sit down. We can show off our skills of being on time to all of the late weenies.” He smiles and you laugh at his use of weenie again. Pedro opens the door for you and you let out a quick thank you. As you walk in, you see a large table with name tags in front of each chair. You glance around the table, searching for your name. Once you found it, you made your way to your chair and Pedro took a seat right next to you. 

He was so close to you and it was too intense. First he comes in looking like sex on legs, now he’s sitting only a few inches away from you. He smells so good. You wish you could just- “You don’t walk much do you?” he asked as he turned to look at you. You do the same. “Sorry, I don’t want you to think I don’t want to talk to you. I do. I just get weird around new people and don’t really know how to act and I just have horrible people skills in general sometimes. You also kind of make me really nervous.” You shut up and quickly turn to face forward with a blush on your face. “I make you nervous?” He asked. You gave him a quick glance and saw that he had that stupid smirk on his face. You actually can’t believe you just said that out loud. You had never been someone who got the nervous rambles. You usually just give a short answer and keep quiet. You were so humiliated it was unbearable. Luckily, the room began to fill up with other actors and crew members. You felt Pedro shift beside you and your leg started bouncing out of nervous habit. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The table read was surprisingly uneventful. You had been nervous to read lines back and forth with Pedro but somehow your mind locks in when it’s time to act. You could still feel the intensity, especially when it came to the scene that led up to the steamy moment between the main characters. You just ignored the butterflies and kept reading. 

Once it was over, the director gave a little speech and the crew gave us a few notices. Letting everyone know to check their emails frequently for any changes made to the schedule. As soon as they released everyone for the day, you gathered your things and began to make the walk back to your car. Just as you were grabbing your door handle, you heard your name being called. When you looked up Pedro was jogging over to you. “Hi.” He said as he stopped in front of you. “Uhh hi.” You said awkwardly, still embarrassed from earlier. “Would you maybe want to hang out, get to know each other a little bit? We’ll be spending a lot of time together on screen and I would love to get to know you outside of filming and stuff.” All you could do is stand there and look at him. “I’ll try my best not to make you nervous.” He teased as he smiled brightly at you awaiting an answer. “If I agree to this, you have to promise to not make me nervous.” You held your pinky up and he linked his with yours, locking in his promise. You both dropped your hands. “So uh, what do you want to do?” “I honestly didn’t think that far ahead, I was just trying to catch you before you left.” You look down at the ground and think. “I mean you could come to my place. It’s small and there’s not much to do but we can just hang around and talk I guess…” You trail off at the end looking up at him. “Yea that sounds perfect.” There's a pause… “Uh, do you want me to give you my address or something?” “Oh yea here, let me give you my number so you can send it to me.” You pull out your phone and go to create a new contact. You hand your phone to him and he types in his number. When he hands it back, you notice that he set his contact name to ‘Pedro :)’. You smiled a little and opened the message app and sent him your address. “I just sent it. Did you get it?” He grabs his phone out of his pocket. “Yea I got it.” another pause… “Uh okay cool well, I’ll see you there I guess.” “Yea see you there.” He smiles. “Just text me or something when you get there so you don’t get lost in my apartment complex.” 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

When you got home and hadn’t received a text from Pedro yet, you ran inside and quickly cleaned up as much as you could and sprayed some air freshener. 

‘I’m here :)’

Shit. You checked your appearance in the mirror before running out of the door and down to the parking lot. When you saw him, you started rethinking your entire life that led up to this point. What did you do to deserve having a sexy ass man want to hang out and get to know you?? I mean it’s for work purposes but still, it counts in your head as something more. You saw him get out of his car and make his way over to you. “Hi, um, follow me.” God why did you have to be so weird. “Okie dokie, lead the way.”. Once the two of you reached your apartment, you opened the door and walked inside. “You can take your shoes off if you want, I don’t really care but if you’d be more comfortable you can.” You look at him and he’s smiling at you. “Sorry, I don’t know why I keep rambling.”. You sigh and usher him to follow you to the living room. He takes off his jacket and hat. The sight of his biceps in that tight ass black shirt almost has you drooling. You try to collect yourself as quickly as possible before he notices anything. You take off your doc martens and plop down on the couch. You pat the couch and he sits on the other end. This is so fucking awkward oh my god. 

“Do you want anything to drink or something?”.

“No it’s okay, thank you though.” 

“No problemo.” 

Silence.. 

“Is there anything specific you want to know or um..” You look at him and quickly look away. “Sorry I'm really not good at meeting new people and being myself.” Your leg starts to bounce. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m the one who should be sorry. You told me you had trouble with new people and I sprung this on you.” His eyes move around the room. “You don’t have to be sorry. I promise I want to get to know you too, I just don’t really know how to do that.” 

He thinks for a moment. 

“How about we start with what we already know about each other, then we can ask each other questions based on that? Sound good?” You nod. 

“I can go first. I know your name is y/n. I also know that you’re 35 and that you’re an actress.” You squint your eyebrows together. 35? Where the hell did he get that from? You think for a moment.. Oh fuck. You completely forgot that Angie said you were 35 to get the audition.  

“Oh um yeah. Well I know your name is Pedro, I think you’re 49 but I’m honestly not that sure, and I also know that you’re an actor.” oh yea totally believable that you didn’t know this man's age  by adding an ‘I think’ super smooth…

“How long have you been acting?” 

“Well I moved here like six years ago, almost seven at this point. I did some theater in high school. So however long that is. This is my first big role though.” “That’s surprising.” “What is?” “That this is your first big role.” “Why do you say that?” “Sweetheart, your audition was incredible. You were a natural.” 

Sweetheart 

“Oh um thank you. I’d like to think I’m good.” “You are good.” He sets his hand on your thigh and squeezes as he speaks and immediately retracts his hand. You can still feel the warmth of his quick touch and the spot tingles. Your heart is beating at an unhealthy speed. You look down at your thigh and back to his stupid handsome smiling face.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The two of you continued to talk and get to know each other. You spoke about acting, family, interests, hobbies. Once the conversation flowed more, it was easier to let loose and talk to him without stuttering every two seconds. 

Pedro was laughing at something you said when your stomach growled. 

“Oh my god that is so embarrassing.” You hide your face in your hands. “No need to be embarrassed sweetheart.” There was that name again. “I should leave soon, I didn’t realize it was so late already.” You really wanted him to stay. “You don’t have to go. I was probably going to order something if you wanted to join me.” You offered hoping he would say yes. “I don’t want to be a bother, I’ll get out of your hair.” “Oh. Okay.”. He stood up and stretched his arms up, making his shirt raise just enough for you to catch a glance at his lower tummy. You quickly looked away and stood up as well. 

He put his hat and jacket back on. “Well I should head out.” “Yea.. yea um I’ll walk you out.” You both started walking towards the door. “I’ll see you soon yea? Next time you better not be all shy again you hear me?” “No promises. You make me nervous, remember?.” He chuckles. You open the door for him. He gives you a quick goodbye and then he's gone. You close the door and make your way back to the couch to sit down. You ordered some food and tried to process everything that happened today. 

As you were eating, you got a text. 

Pedro :) 

I had a lot of fun today, we should do it again. 

You start to text a reply but before you can hit send, another text comes through. 

Pedro :) 

Did I mention that you looked really beautiful today? 

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

Thank you for reading <3

next chapter

[sinning-23]

Piercings Pt.2 (Sanji x Reader)

First of all… THANKS SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE N SUPPORT ON THE LAST ONE! Nice to know we all love some Sanji lol.

Also if you want a pinch of context I suggest reading Pt.1 UHHHHH but if not enjoy this lol smut is one of my fs or things to write so uhhhh yeah! I hope I did good lol!

⚠️!THIS IS AN 18+ FIC MINORS BE TF GONE!⚠️

❗️Warnings❗️: Sanji being smug, choking, biting, cunnilingus, unprotected, p in v, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstim, sanji speakin that french

Pt. 1 here

Enjoy!

After the kitchen fiasco, you opted to keep yourself out of there until further notice. The wall ended up being scorched as well as some of the utensils he used. All the windows needed to be opened to clear the smoke out and it didn't help that the smell of charred food lingered for a while.

It has been about 4 days since then and every day you can't seem to keep your hands off each other. He's got his hands on your hips, claiming he just needed to get by with a quiet, "Pardon me, dove." His lips always dangerously close to your ear.

You were no better though, also claiming that you'd dropped something and needed to use his thighs for support when getting up, looking up at him under pretty lashes. This tension was that of a frozen lake, one misstep and you'd fall into him, hoping he embraces you like that of icy water.

Speaking of which, the burn you endured ended up being minor and the cold water did most of the trick. He insisted on bandaging you still. Just an excuse to touch you more.

Touch.

All you two ever did now was touch

And tease, and poke, and prod, in hopes of the other finally cracking and putting all that tension to good use. When you had docked at a smaller island in hopes of finding a marketplace (you did) Sanji didn't even ask if you'd join him.

He just took your hand in his, because it wasn't even a question at this point. You're with him unless you stated you wanted otherwise.

Walking past the vendors, his hand stays at your hip, more possessive than anything. You poin tout something you like? It's yours. See something you want to try? It's yours.

These days you're growing more and more concerned for his wallet. Anytime you'd try to decline he's simple shake his head, draw your hand to his lips, and kiss your knuckles.

"Anything for you, chérie"

The crew could sense this.....energy loomin' over the two of you but of course nothing was really said...that is until Nami nudged her head in the direction of Sanji when you two happened to be on the main deck this afternoon. You quirk a brow as she leans in to try and keep the gossip between the two of you.

"What really happened for the kitchen to catch fire? I mean?" She questions with a smirk, making you laugh, nervousness laced in the tone.

When you two first told the story, Sanji said he had distracted himself and took too long preparing other parts of the mean and he lost track of what he was doing and how long.

You, on the other hand, said that you accidentally bumped the stoved handles making the flames higher, and maybe a towel or something caught fire.

It was all bullshit.

When Sanji had taken it upon himself to plant kisses down your neck, he left something quite noticeable that wasn't there before. It was all bullshit and everyone knew it. You distracted him, and he just couldn't help himself.

"I-I told you what happened Nami. It doesn't matter anyway! The kitchen is back to normal thankfully." You sigh, trying to figure out what exactly you came out here to do?

Oh, that's right.

Find some way to get your hands on Sanji.

"If you say so, but,” Nami shrugs, pausing when she see's Sanji follow to the back of the ship, his eyes focused on you, pupils blown wide. He falters but only for a moment, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Then he leaves, your breath stuck in your throat.

"I think someone's waiting for you to follow them so..." Nami observes, palm coming to hold your shoulder.

"Don't set anything else on fire." She teases, seeing you full on sprint to where he was.

You look around, the hall empty. He just went this way didn't he-

You're snatched up, mouth covered in the quiet of the hallway, a hand firm on your hip. Before you can even process your attacker, a set of lips is hungry against your own, a hand at your throat. You can hardly breathe from the shock, both teeth and tongues against one another as you embrace.

Sanji’s got you close against him, his back against the wall with your chest to his, one leg keeping your thighs apart as you lean into him. He still has one hand around your throat, squeezing just enough to make you whine, wanting more pressure.

The height difference makes you lean upward, itching to have all of him. Despite the hall being quiet, your little secluded corner is awfully loud with the sounds of your labored breaths combined.

"Sanji...Sanji wait-" You speak between kisses, his hands under your shirt now, immediately massaging the area over and around your back dermals.

"Ne parle plus, je veux juste te goûter. "

That shut you up, quick, the sound of his mother tongue slipping past his lips when he can't seem to keep his hands from wandering.

"What if we get caught." You gasp, feeling him bite down particularly rough on your collarbone.

"Y/n, know that right now, I don't particularly give a fuck. I need you." He huffs, still tasting every in inch of exposed skin he could find.

His lips are soft, brushing over your neck with a smirk. He knows the mess he left over your skin, bark bruises, and indents of where his teeth had been adorning it.

"They know the whole kitchen thing was bs." He chuckles darkly, his next sentence sinking straight to your cunt.

"I'm sure they're well aware of who you belong to now. I made your neck even more of a work of art honey."

You're practically soaking through your panties now, and are in dire need of friction. In an attempt to secretly get off, you grid down against his thigh...

But hes quck to notice.

"Oh, that's why you’re worried. Let's go." He exhales with a smirk, pulling you to his room and swiftly closing the door behind him.

It's not messy by any means, the bed is made neatly with a pack of cigarettes on the nightstand. You would’ve loved to look around more but Sanji is back on you and there was no way in hell you’d complain about that. He’s quick but calculated, sliding his hands under your shirt before pulling it off completely.

There's no time to be flustered, you'd both wanted this for quite some time now and you could both keep up with one another. Your skin prickles with he sudden chill of being topless, your nipples hardening slightly. It's just enough for him to see what else you were hiding.

Beneath your bra, were of course your nipples, but there they were, pierced, the bars through them being decorated with jade at each end. His breath hitches and god had he gotten impossibly harder at the sight. You're sitting on the edge of the bed now, Sanji kneeling before you with pupils blown wide.

All the permissions needed was the slight smirk on your lips and your back arching as if to invite him to touch and taste as much as he pleased. Without hesitation, he's got one in his mouth, tongue swirling around your already sensitive bud. The other he squeezes, thumb brushing over the area.

You can't help but sigh in pleasure, tangling your fingers in his hair while he makes it his mission to kiss all of your torso, noting the matching belly button ring. How did he not see this before? Well, most of your shirts were loose anyway. God he loved how adorned your body was with jewelry, like you were some kind of treasure just for him.

He can tell you're growing impatient with the way you push your hips forward, most likely trying to the feeling to relieve a little pressure with the way your pants pressed against you there.

"Let me taste you, please."He aks, breathless, lips still somewhat swollen from kissing prior.

You nod unable to speak with how damn pretty he looked. On his knees, eyes glossy and lustful, asking for permission to eat you out?! How could you say no? You lift your hips, sliding the jeans down just enough for him to pull the rest down.

You were right, your panties were damn near soaked, your arousal wetting the front. Sanji only moans at this, knowing it's all his doing. The feeling of him pressing kisses to your clothed clit makes you shiver, and he doesn't stop, tongue wetting the area as if to tease.

"Please Sanji, I need-" You pause for a moment, a bit embarrassed to ask for this. He only chuckles and runs his finger up your still-clothed folds, then massages the plush of your thighs.

"What do you need honey, tell me and I promise you I'll make it happen." Hes eager, kissing, sucking and biting at your inner thigh now, the feeling making you dizzy with desire.

"I need your mouth on me...please." You whine, trying to close your legs to relieve some of the pressure but he only spreads them apart again, strong hands keeping you there with a dangerous look in his eye.

"You'll take what I give you. Now be a big girl, ask for it, and stop chasing it, sweetheart." He thinks to himself "My mouth is on you. See?" He demonstrates, kissing your thighs again, one had on your hip, massaging circles there while the other tossed your leg over his shoulder, the action only spreading you wider.

Little shit. He knew exactly that you meant.

"No, you know what I mean. Please. Eat me, Sanji." You plead, feeling him smirk against your front.

He's got your panties off in no time. Almost immediately latching to you as he slurps you up, tossing your other leg over his shoulder now too. Your thighs act as a pair of headphones essentially, your fingers tugging at the blonde locks as he moans in response.

You can feel it now, your orgasm coming faster than you thought with how well he was eating you up. Like a starved man and his first meal in ages. He lapped at your juices, taking a chance at sliding not one, but two fingers into you.

"F-uck!" you stutter, feeling him curl upwards, still sucking at your clit.

He knows you're close, but he doesn't care, keeping that same pace to work this out of you. You can feel that damned piercing, rolling slowwwwly around your clip. Another cues slips past your lips. "Ohh, such a dirty mouth honey? Are you gonna cum for me? Can't even control yourself." He teases, watching you grip the bedsheets as your stomach muscles clench.

There it is.

Somehow his lips are back on yours, swallowing up the moans from your orgasm as his fingers slow in pace, trying to get you to come down from that high. Multitasking came easy to him, so for him to keep fucking you, now 3 fingers in while also using his free hand to push his own pants down was no hard feat.

How many times did he practice that??? Your hands are gripping his shoulders, nails digging into him in surprise when you feel the tip slide against your slick folds.

For a moment your eyes meet and damn do you have a chance to really, really look at him.

His face is dusted pink, eyes bright red. His eyes are glossy, pupils wide, lips shiny and slightly parted as he tries to catch his breath. He's no different than you now, admiring how you look, how you breathe, the way you cling to him like he'd vanish somehow.

It's intoxicating.

Your lips meet, softer this time, your heart beating like crazy with your stomach twisting in delight, full of butterflies. You're soft, and so is he, so much more gentle now in realization of what's about to occur. This means more to you now. It’s not a one time thing. You have no time to overthink because his voice, husky and passionate.

"Are you okay with this? Do I have permission?"He asks, pitch almost a bit higher, likes he’s holding back a whine.

Such a gentleman through it all. It makes your heart swell. You nod, whispering out an awestruck 'yes' before connecting your lips again. And the stretch when he slides in makes you both shiver, his hips stuttering into a pace, both his groans and your heavy breaths filling the space.

Impulsively wrapping your legs around his waist makes him thrust deeper. The feeling makes you arch, a louder moan slipping past your lips and it makes him chuckle a bit before succumbing to his own pleasure with a moan.

"Tu te sens si bien ma chérie" He whispers, your foreheads pressed together more intimately.

"Fuck, you fill me up so well." You whimper, slightly tugging the hair at the nape of his neck.

The action makes him moan back, teeth gritted as he thrust into you faster, his free hand coming to circle your clit. It's almost too much, another orgasm close behind. You'd never felt so full, his dick hitting parts of you that didn't know about. Perfect, like he was meant for your cunt. Your walls flutter around him and his thrusts begin to get sloppy.

"Oh gods, y/n I can't. Please let me fill you up chérie. Please-" He's pussy drunk, but you can say the same about yourself when he keeps hitting that spot. You're both bound to burst.

"Cum for me Sanji, please baby I need you to." You purr, bitting his shoulder, kissing the area to soothe it.

He's got his face in the crook of your neck now, a strangled moan leaving his lips as his thrusts slow. He doesn't stop though, still trying to work one last orgasm out of you and succeeds.

Your body is already spent from when he ate you out but this, definitely put you over. You cling to him, labored breaths all you can hear. He doesn't leave your cunt yet, trying to stabilize first.

"If you were worried about getting caught, I think we were loud enough for the crew to hear so." He chuckles, still fatigued. You shake your head with a smile pressing kisses to his face.

He takes his time pulling out, cum spilling out of you when he does. Your ears don’t miss the slight choked back moan when he does. It's quiet but it's comfortable. He leaves for a moment, bring a towel back to clean you up with. There are plenty of kisses here and there, most likely a pre-apology for marking you up even more then before.

He works quickly, dressing you in one of his shirts, which proves to be too big on you but neither of you care, his heart fluttering at the sight of you in it.

....

"So, nipple piercings and a belly ring, huh sweetheart?"

Tag List:

@minishimi @legalize-arson @vespidphoenix @kira-scarllet @princess-eddie @hobiesrockstargf @peachyminx @thefandomqueen2882 @kira-scarllet @coconut-jam-and @muppet-wannabe @karmazwrld @

[byuljoonie]

Cozy // Ksj

You hate me, because you want me…

pairing: seokjin x fem!reader

genre: one shot, coworkers to lovers, slice of life, fluff, slow burn, boyfriend material, smut, desperation, fierce seokjin

word count: 6.7k

warnings: size kink, slight age gap, smut, extreme dirty talk, unsafe sẽx (oopsie), spit play, fingers, missionary, stomach bulge (he’s huge), begging, slight exhibitionism (in office), dom!seokjin sub!reader, degradation, dumbification, a little gaslighting, masochism, fake business mumbo jumbo

note: surprise shawty !!! I didn’t know when I was coming back but boom here I am…with the gift of a seokjin smut that I worked hard on for y’all♡. Yes this is another Beyoncé inspired one shot and definitely not the last lol. Sorry for any grammatical mistakes. I hope everyone is doing alright, especially with what’s going on these days. Playlists in bio, masterlist in bio, and have a great week ily! -dubu

You walked into the small coffee shop, the familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloping your nose as you approached the counter. You flashed a warm smile at your favorite barista, Jimin, he was busy preparing drinks.

"Hey, Y/N! How's your day going love?" Jimin asked sweetly. He was writing names on cups near the cash register, preparing them for their awaiting owners. You smiled, happy to hear his cheerful voice on this hectic morning.

"Well, it's my first day at the new job, and I'm feeling a bit anxious,” you said nervously fiddling with the coin pouch in your wallet.

"I wouldn’t be too worried, Y/N. You know how long I could ramble about you. You're going to do an amazing job, just be yourself!"

“Thanks, Jimin. I really needed the pep talk and maybe a shot,” you said teasingly, grabbing your latte from his delicate hand. As you turned to head towards the door, Jimin suddenly stopped you.

"Wait, Y/N, before you go, I have to say that your outfit today is on point. You look fantastic,” Jimin said giving your body another unapologetic once over.

You blushed and thanked him again before continuing your exit. But your attention was momentarily diverted, and you accidentally bumped into a tall and incredibly handsome man, Seokjin. He was staring at you as if you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I should have been more careful. Are you okay?" He asked charmingly.

You froze briefly, bracing yourself as his large hand rested on your waist. "It's okay, I'm fine. And, um, yes, I'm okay. Thank you,” you stuttered out anxiously, skin igniting at his touch.

"You have a captivating smile, beautiful. I hope your day gets better, though I think mine has unexpectedly reached its peak,” he flirted shamelessly. You couldn't help but blush even more, feeling a rush of mixed emotions as you realized you needed to leave.

“I’m sorry I have to go!” You said hurriedly, pushing past the gorgeous stranger. Unfortunately for Seokjin, his quick wit was no match for your hasty fleet. His phone sat idle in his hand, waiting for the entry of your name and number.

Your heels clicked against the pavement, the sound distracting you the entire 20-minute walk to work. The massive HYYH sign greeted you as you approached the tall building. The sleek silver letters glistened in the sunlight.

You sipped the rest of your drink, his face flashing through your mind as the lukewarm liquid made you wince in distaste. You wondered if the coffee shop was a symbol of unrecognized opportunity, maybe he would go back tomorrow.

It was your first time seeing Seokjin, he had the kind of smile that felt like the universe was sharing a secret with you. You set in your mind to frequent the coffee shop until you met again.

As you walked into the building, you were greeted by a towering, skyscraper that seemed to touch the clouds. The lobby was a bustling hub of activity, with professionals in sharp suits and clean attire briskly moving about. The scent of freshly brewed coffee hung in the air, mingling with the subtle smell of fresh flowers placed strategically around the space.

The gentle hum of conversation and the soft clicking of heels against polished marble floors filled the air. You couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and excitement as you took in the sight of the place. The glass walls offered an impressive view of the city skyline and the bustling streets below.

You approached the secretary's desk, where a well-dressed woman with a warm smile was multitasking like a pro. Her computer screen displayed a meticulously organized calendar, while she coolly juggled incoming calls and managed appointments.

You took a deep breath to calm your nerves, then stepped forward with a smile. “Good morning, I'm Y/N Y/L/N, the new hire. I'm here to meet Mr. Min, it’s nice to meet you."

“Oh hello, I'm Sara Mr. Min’s secretary. He's been looking forward to your arrival. Just give me a moment to let him know you're here."

You nodded and glanced around at everyone going about their work. You felt a mix of excitement and anticipation.

Sara excused herself, holding up a finger as she made a call. You turned to have a seat across from her desk, your bag lightly tapping your hip as you walked.

“Good Morning! My name is Jung Hoseok and you’ll be shadowing me this morning. I assume you’re Y/N?” He smiled nicely.

You stood up quickly, almost toppling over to the floor. Hoseok let out an airy chuckle, grabbing your hand to help. He wore a black suit, no tie, with a crisp white button-down beneath his pressed blazer.

A colorful Murakami pin sat on his left collar, the shiny gold plating complimenting his tan skin. He towered over you, seeming no taller than 5’10. You shook his hand awkwardly, embarrassed at your primary school behavior.

“Hi, yes I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you,” You said softly, handing him a homemade muffin neatly wrapped from your bag. “I made a small batch of Blueberry muffins for my colleagues, I hope you’re not allergic,” you said smiling gracefully.

His face lit up with delight. He happily took the muffin from your waiting hands, walking you over to his desk to set it down. He thanked you once more before he began the tour. He briefed you on what a typical day at the office would entail for you.

Your primary responsibility is to enter and organize data into the company's systems. Hoseok provides you with detailed instructions on the specific data formats and procedures the company uses.

Due to your degree in philosophy, you will occasionally take on duties in the office library. This includes cataloging, organizing, and assisting workers in finding relevant resources for their research and projects.

Your new coworkers warmed up to you early, your soft smile and warm eyes captivating everyone. You passed out your muffins as you passed by desks, calmly introducing yourself in contrast to your shaking hands.

Hoseok completes the tour by leading you back to the outside of Mr.Min’s office. “Our boss is Min Yoongi, he inherited the company from his father a few years back. The corporate music world was ready to chew down another young bachelor, but Yoongi was different,” Hoseok said appreciatively.

You were intrigued at the mention of him. “He’s strict when it comes to his work and production, but the environment is so organic his predictions are always right,” Hoseok said gesturing for you to stand near the waiting area.

“The former COO and business partner of Mr.Min is also around today. He stepped down from his stressful position as COO, but Yoongi refused to let him leave the company completely.” Hoseok finished, stumbling over which name he should use to address the boss.

“I would warn you though he’s office eye candy, well alongside me,” Hoseok said cockily, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear like a prince. You giggled at his brazen behavior, loving the interactions so far.

Suddenly a deep laugh rumbled from your boss’s office, footsteps grew closer before the large door swung open. In his well-tailored suit, Yoongi looked sharp and polished. The suit, likely straight from the designer, fit him perfectly, draping smoothly over his slender frame. The color of the suit complimented his complexion.

His hair is parted slightly to the side and falls near his face. The jet-black shade is stylishly arranged. He locked eyes with Hoseok, a small smile appearing on his face.

“Good morning again Mr.Min, your new hire is here. This is Y/N,” Hoseok said lightly, smoothing a hand over his suit front. You approached Yoongi cautiously, trying not to trip over your heels.

“Ah, welcome to the company Y/N, I assume Hoseok has already shown you your duties and you’re ready to work?” Yoongi asked firmly, eyeing you suspiciously. Your hands began to perspire, his intense gaze made you uncomfortable.

He let out a dry laugh, his gummy smile peeking through slightly. Hoseok laughed along with him, urging you to do the same during your first impression. You forced out a soft laugh, almost choking on your saliva.

“Hey if my jokes aren’t funny you don’t have to laugh, but I know they are,” Yoongi stated playfully smirking at you. You let out a visible sigh of relief, finding his dry tone funnier than the joke itself.

“Thank you for the opportunity sir, I look forward to working for you,” you said reaching out to shake his hand. The handshake was firm and secure, his touch lingering on yours.

“Hurry the hell out of my office!” Yoongi said loudly, a few stifled laughs being heard from colleagues in earshot.

“I was tying my shoe, do you want me to trip and break my back Min Yoongi? Damn-“ Seokjin complained as he emerged from the office, locking eyes with you immediately.

You both froze in shock, Seokjin swallowing his sentence before he could finish another thought. You eyed him wearily, drinking in his dominant appearance.

“Yeah, this is Y/N. Today is her first day bird brain.” Yoongi said teasing his taller counterpart. Seokjin studied every ounce of you, staring at the way your skirt hugged your hips. He couldn’t pull his attention away from you, he felt his chest tighten.

“It’s nice to meet you, sir, I hope we can get along well,” you said monotonously, offering a small smile as you shook his large hand.

“Call me Seokjin, see you around,” Seokjin said to you dismissively. You were partially stunned but kept your composure. He turned back to Yoongi engaging in conversation like you’ve faded from existence.

Hoseok excused the two of you from the conversation, walking you over to your new desk by the far side of the office floor, unbeknownst to you right next to Seokjin’s office.

“Alright, this is your desk! It’s honestly the best spot in the office, near the restrooms and out of sight of Yoongi.” Hoseok said while peaking over the cubicles to see Yoongi walking out with Jin.

“He seems great, even Seokjin,” you said lying through your teeth. You felt betrayed by destiny, the handsome stranger you intended on meeting turned out to be a total jerk. Oh and best friends with your new boss!

“Mm yeah, Jin couldn’t take his eyes off of you, weird,” Hoseok said smirking coyly. You squinted your eyes at him, silently threatening him to not get any ideas. He raised his hands in mock surrender, bidding you a farewell to attend to his assignments for the day.

Your first day was going great, you finished your first assignment already, and time seemed to be passing expeditiously. A few of your coworkers stopped by your desk to chat and thank you for the delicious muffins.

Although, to your dismay, Seokjin’s office was in perfect view of your cubicle. You’d tense up anytime you passed each other, his cologne filling your senses. He barely paid you attention, though he’d look annoyed anytime a colleague would stop at your desk to speak.

After lunch Yoongi held a small conference for your division of the company, letting Seokjin highlight the main points of the meeting.

“Ms.Y/L/N, what do you think?” Yoongi asked politely, wanting to hear your honest feedback on Seokjin’s idea.

You chose your words carefully, not wanting to offend him in any way. You agreed with his idea but ultimately determined your way was the better route to take. Yoongi agreed, asking your colleagues if they had any questions.

Seokjin cocked an eyebrow at you, wondering where your sudden confidence to challenge him came from. He began to protest, telling Yoongi to think it over before he proceeded.

“I’ll think about it but don’t be surprised at the results tomorrow Seokjin,” Yoongi said patting Jin on the shoulder and walking out of the conference room.

Your team files out quickly chatting amongst themselves, some even congratulating you on your effort. You picked up your laptop and tea heading towards the door before anyone else could bother you.

“Good job Y/N,” Seokjin said sourly, softening his expression when he noticed how tired you looked. Your anxiety had dissipated as the day went on, but your brief importance in the meeting sent your nerves through the roof.

He hated how reactive you made him, he wiped the sweat from his brow. Staring you down in a trance, he wondered what things could have been if you stayed longer in the coffee shop this morning.

“Thank you, sir,” you said quietly turning back to walk out of the room. A disappointed sigh escaped Seokjin’s lips.

＊＊＊

The office rings with the steady rhythm of keyboards and the soft murmur of hushed conversations. A month has swept by, leaving in its wake the familiar aura of routine, yet within this unchanging space, friendships have blossomed.

As the youngest member of your team, bad jokes and unserious drama have become your daily life. Laughter usually echoes through the office as your colleagues playfully tease you.

However, you’re the one who calls the taxis for everyone and makes sure the tables are in one piece after a night out. Your motherly instincts are a drastic contrast to your underlying needs.

Amidst the chaos, a peculiar dynamic unfurls with Seokjin. A palpable, fiery tension simmers beneath the surface, not so lost on the perceptive eyes of Yoongi and a select few coworkers.

Meetings transform into arenas for silent battles, where staring contests serve as the unspoken language of competition. Projects become a canvas for rivalry, with each of you silently dying for the unspoken title of office princess.

You sat quietly in the library, deciding to stay behind and read on your lunch break. Nobody frequented the library besides you, Hoseok, and another colleague you’ve grown accustomed to, Taehyung.

The dim strip lights presented a low humming sound in the quiet space. The door opened and closed every so often, but you didn’t bother to look up from your novel.

The buzz of your phone pulled you from your haze. You had a message from Yoongi telling you to come to his office immediately. “Why?” You accidentally whine out loud. “Why me?”

You eventually pull yourself out of your chair, forcing a small smile on your face as you make your way to his office. You fixed your outfit in the reflection of a passing window before knocking on Yoongi’s door.

He promptly called you in, telling you to close the door behind you. You notice Seokjin sitting cross-legged in a perfectly fitted Dior suit. The grey color looked deliciously tight on his shoulders.

You could easily handle a meeting with Yoongi, but sitting next to the older man that makes your palms sweat is a different story. You pulled your skirt down a final time before sitting in the chair furthest from Jin. The both of you now facing Yoongi and his ceiling-to-floor windows.

“I’m sorry sir but may I ask why he’s here?” You say hesitantly, perspiring palms opposing your challenging question. Seokjin scoffed at your starting words.

“Believe me I’m just as confused as you sweetheart,” Seokjin said bitterly, grabbing a pen from his suit pocket to twirl in his nibble fingers. You narrowed your eyes at him, turning your attention back to a smirking Yoongi.

“Well, as you know Y/N there’s a new position opening and I know a few people are interested. I’ve been thinking of ways to go about filling the leadership position. You do seem to be qualified, but so is Mr.Kim.” Yoongi said trailing off his sentence, waiting for your reaction.

You sat there bamboozled, why would Seokjin go after the job when he already has a high-paying leadership position? You try to push the thoughts away, but you can’t help but think he was trying to outdo you.

“I‘ve decided to give you a project, but unfortunately for you two, you’ll be working on it together. That way I can determine who will get the leadership position. Disperse the roles yourself and try not to hurt each other.” Yoongi said cheerfully handing you both a thick, crème colored folder.

Your blood runs cold, and you begin to shift uncomfortably in your chair. “Sir, with all due respect, I think it would be best if we work separately. That way we can both prove our best efforts without stepping on each other's toes,” you said gritting your teeth firmly.

Seokjin sat quietly, Yoongi’s gaze unmoved by your attempts to sway him. He shook his head and muttered a “nonsense,” in your direction.

“Y/N clearly doesn’t want to work with me, she’s not a team player. I’d say I’m fit for the role Min.” Seokjin said smugly, piercing the dense air.

You shoot dangers in his direction, anger seething behind your once warm eyes. Yoongi cleared his throat, apprehensively looking between you both.

You took a deep breath and counted to 5 in your head. Your mild ego got the best of you, you refused to let the handsome asshole win.

“You know what, I’ll do it. I just think it’ll look bad on Mr.Kim’s part when I undoubtedly get the position,” you say letting out a benevolent sigh. Flipping through the folder in your manicured hands.

“That’s the attitude I like to see, good luck to you both,” Yoongi said dismissing you from his office.

You leave the office first, waiting behind to talk to Seokjin. He emerged from Yoongi’s office momentarily after you. He tensed at your presence, ready to rebuttal the words you had aimed at him.

“I’ll meet you near your office after work to exchange information, I have to go back to work in the library,” you said kindly, staring up into his brown eyes. He nodded in agreement, walking away without a word.

＊＊＊

You stood by your desk, waiting for Seokjin to leave his office for the evening. You were usually the last two in the building besides the friendly security officer Jungkook. He was around your age, boyish, and beyond strong.

He would walk you to the door at the end of every shift, comfortable silence filling the space between the two of you. You told him you’d be staying later tonight to work on something.

Seokjin’s door creaks open slightly, the light flickering off before his tall frame emerges from the shadows. He looked gorgeous, even tiredness looked good on him.

“Sorry if I took too long, I had to make some calls.” He said walking up to you with a few long strides. You unconsciously stumbled back until your ass touch the corner of your desk. He smirked at you knowingly.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” he asks, a small chuckle slipping from his pink lips. He reached into his pocket, presenting his open phone to you and cocking his head to the side.

“You gonna put your number in?” He said coolly, presenting his other hand awaiting your phone. You didn’t speak, afraid of how weak you’d sound at the moment.

You bite your bottom lip, covering the once-forming pout. You grabbed his phone and quickly put your number and full name in.

“Why so professional, princess? I thought our reign as quiet enemies was over since we’re partners now.” He said, a faux pout playing on his lips. You took your phone back laughing at the name he entered for himself.

“Mr.Handsome?” You questioned immediately, throwing your phone into your handbag. You shook your head at him, loving the lines near his smiling eyes.

“I think Hoseok would take offense to that. He said he’s office eye candy.” You said smirking up at Jin. He laughed loudly, filling the quiet office floor.

“Oh we’ll see about that,” he said rolling his eyes and putting his phone away. “Alright I’ll leave you alone, you want me to walk you down?” He asked politely, shocking you slightly.

“No it’s okay, I think I can manage. I’ll call a taxi right now since it’s too late to walk home.” You said pulling your phone out to call a cab.

“A taxi at this time of night? That’s dangerous, I’ll give you a ride home.” Seokjin said, staring down at you softly.

You nod and murmur a quick thank you. You trailed him as he called you with a soft “come on.” His long legs were no match for your slow walking. He turned around and waited for you to catch up to him, presenting his arm to you.

You latched on nervously, swallowing down a whimper at the feel of his muscles. The walk to the car was short, he had a special parking spot for his car near the elevators. The lights were red and the engine roaring as he walked around to open the door for you.

“Thank you, sir,” you said getting in so he could close the door. You heard him laugh as he walked around to get in his vehicle.

“Call me Jin, Y/N. I don’t bite unless you want me to.” He said winking at you and then pulling out of the parking garage.

“Are you flirting with me, Seokjin?” You asked playfully, telling him where you lived. He hummed, glancing over at you for a second.

The ride to your place was quiet but tense. You both kept secretly looking at each other, praying the other would say something first. The moonlight shined through the windows, illuminating his dewy skin.

“We’re here, Y/N.” He says staring at you intensely. You didn’t notice because of your obvious staring at him.

“Oh, thank you again Seokjin.” You said nervously, “I’ll contact you tomorrow for the assignment.” Before he could say anything else, you made your way inside your apartment building.

The next morning you wake up to a text from Seokjin. The message entails his suggestions for working together.

You planned to meet the following weekend at his place. Working separately and then coming together to mend the final results.

You spent the next week working vigorously to come out on top. You find yourself entangled in a web of conflicting emotions, grappling with the frustration of your lingering crush on Seokjin.

The week unfolds with a constant replay of his past insufferable behavior, each memory stoking the flames of anger within.

Questions swirl in your mind: Why is he suddenly trying to befriend you? Is it a ploy to manipulate the joint project? The uncertainty of his motives adds a layer of complexity to your thoughts.

You search through your clothes, silently cursing yourself for not doing laundry sooner. You had to settle on a thong that easily showed on your hips in your joggers.

An oversized black T-shirt is the only shirt available too. You prayed you didn’t look too casual for your work date. You called a cab to Seokjin’s place, grabbing your coat before running to your elevator.

The drive to his place was shorter than expected. He stayed 15 minutes from you, in a taller modern high-rise.

You tried to ignore the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, but the closer you got to his door the more they persisted.

You knocked firmly, lifting your bag over your shoulder, not realizing it’s pulled your shirt up. Exposing your hip and panties peaking over your pants.

The door swung open a few minutes later, and a very handsome seokjin standing at attention with a warm smile.

He takes in your appearance, eyes widening at how beautiful you look. It took him a few seconds to finally meet your gaze again.

“Hi, princess come in.” He says motioning for you to walk in.

“Princess?” You question breathlessly, taking your shoes off upon entry to his apartment.

“Sorry, you look beautiful today. Couldn’t help myself.” He admits, guiding you over to his comfortable couch.

“Hmm, I like your place. It’s gorgeous.” You say switching the subject calmly.

“Thank you, I like classy but cute things.” He grabs his laptop from the coffee table, typing in a password to gain access.

“Let’s get started?” He asked nicely. Noticeably scooting closer to you on the couch. You nod in agreement ready to work and ignore your increasing heartbeat.

As you find yourself working together, observing the once confident demeanor now replaced by a sense of shared vulnerability, a silent revelation dawns upon you.

Seokjin heard your stomach growl and suggested he buy you guys lunch. You clapped happily at the thought of food causing Seokjin to smile at you.

“I’ve wanted to eat at this place for weeks. Now I’ve finally got a good reason!” He said excitedly placing your orders on his phone.

“It seems that I’m the reason for a lot of your happiness this week,” you say teasingly, poking at his cheek.

He tenses for a second, hoping you won’t notice his momentary lapse of judgment. You felt the shift in his demeanor and decided to back off.

“Hey, it’s okay. Come sit closer to me.” He said, patting the space next to him. You moved back next to him, staring down at your lap.

“Did I say something wrong, Jin?” You asked nervously. Glancing at him as he never moved his eyes from you.

“No, no of course not. Sometimes I just get nervous around you, Y/N.” He confessed truthfully. “Yes even at my age.” He playfully smiled at you, causing you to laugh.

“You’re only like 5 years my senior, but why are you nervous around me?” You asked confused, moving closer to him.

“Because you’re beautiful.” He crooned, closing the last gap between you on the couch.

“Jin, I-“Before you could finish your sentence a knock was heard on the door. The food had arrived.

The subtle shifts in his behavior, the intense stares, the conflicting emotions – it all aligns. Seokjin's suffering alongside you hints at something deeper.

Could it be that he harbors feelings for you, perhaps even more intense than your own? The realization unfolds within your mind, casting a new light on the complexities of your relationship and prompting a wave of thoughts.

You and Seokjin ate at his dining table, casual conversation flowing around. He told dad jokes that were beyond bad, but your sides hurt with laughter.

You finished your work quickly after lunch, ecstatic that you completed the project a few days before the deadline.

As you pack up, Seokjin surprises you by insisting on driving you home. The car ride is a mix of comfort and tension, his intense gaze leaving you both on edge.

In his eyes, there's a subtle shift, a hint of something more than annoyance—lust, perhaps? As you reach your destination, you hastily thank him, excusing yourself before your emotions escalate.

Once inside, you send a quick text expressing gratitude, hinting at a future meeting at the office. Seokjin's response is unexpectedly cool, almost as if he's retracted the emotions that briefly surfaced. You went to bed confused and slightly hurt at his reaction.

Presentation day arrives, and both of you excel. However, Seokjin abruptly leaves the office right after, claiming illness. You went on with your day, spending it mostly in the library. Trying to distract yourself from your probing thoughts.

The following day, he arrives late, a difference from his usual punctuality. To your surprise, Yoongi announces that you and Seokjin will share the lead position.

Nerves hang intensely between you and Seokjin. He mostly hides in his office, only emerging briefly, not even sparing you his once-secret glances. The atmosphere is charged, and the not-so-secret glances now make the air thick with unspoken emotions.

Despite the festive atmosphere, your mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Seokjin, the way he smiled, his laugh, everything about him.

Hoseok approached you with a mischievous grin. "Why so serious? It's YOUR party, Y/N! You need to loosen up a bit." He handed you a drink, urging you to take a sip.

The warmth of the liquid courage spread through you, emboldening your resolve. Feeling a surge of determination, you decided to act on your feelings for Seokjin. The office felt like a maze as you navigated through the lively crowd, making your way to the stairwell.

Two flights up, you stumbled slightly but pressed on. You couldn’t take the elevator you didn’t need any distractions. The door to Seokjin's office stood before you, and you took a deep breath to steady yourself. Knocking lightly, you entered, finding him engrossed in his work.

“Y/N? Are you okay princess?” He questioned, turning off his computer and giving you his undivided attention.

"Seokjin," you began, your words slightly slurred. "I've been thinking...can we talk?” You asked finally, the nickname sending a chill down your spine.

He eyes you inquisitively before agreeing. He stands up to pull out the chair across from his desk, motioning for you to have a seat. You walk forward slowly loving the way his eyes follow your every movement.

In the dress you once hated to admit you wore for him, you felt beautiful in your tipsy state. Seokjin takes a few steps back, leaning on his desk. He crossed his legs pulling up his white button-down sleeves over his taut arms.

He coughs suddenly, raising an eyebrow at you for ogling him so freely.

“Well, um we worked great together on the assignment,” you began nervously.

As you delve into the details of the successful project collaboration, you pay close attention to his expressions. Seokjin, maintaining a professional demeanor, acknowledges your points but insists it was purely professional.

Frustration seeps through as you scoff at his denial, sensing the unspoken tension beneath the surface. Slowly, you rise from your chair, your eyes locked onto his, his bulge inches from your face for a few seconds too long.

A silent challenge was exchanged in the room. The towering presence of Seokjin adds an extra layer of intensity to the confrontation as you refuse to back down, daring him to acknowledge the unspoken truth that lingers between you two.

“Don’t lie to yourself, Jinnie. You hate me because you want me.” You say placing a hand on his chest, testing him.

Seokjin, a mix of shock and curiosity in his expression, puts his hand on your waist. "I want you?” He says staring down at you darkly.

He placed his hand under your chin, licking his lips in devilish delight. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Y/N. The thought of you in my arms drives me wild. You feel this, baby?” He cooed, and he guided your hand down his body. Stopping your hand over his hardening cock.

“You see how you make me feel, hmm?” He began lowly, “You were all talking a minute ago, what happened?” He asked pressing his lips to your cheek.

You felt like putty in his hands, his warm breath fanning over your glowing skin. You felt his cock twitch in your hand, you swallowed a whimper in response.

“Please, sir,” you whispered pathetically. You squirm in his strong grip, clenching around nothing.

He pulled away from you looking down at you. “Use. Your. Words. Princess.” He said punctuating every word by pulling your face closer to his, leaving you mere inches apart.

“Want you to touch me please, Jin.” You begged breathing becoming erratic.

“Good girl,” he said, pulling you in for a long-awaited kiss. His pillow-soft lips felt like heaven. You moaned into the kiss, pushing up on the tips of your toes to deepen the kiss.

He turned you around, pushing your back against the desk. He leaned down putting all of his weight on you.

“Before we go any further, I want you to know I can’t control myself any longer Y/N. I can’t be decent, I’ve needed you far too long.” He confessed breathlessly.

“Well don’t be decent, sir.” You said tugging him by his collar to pull him into another passionate kiss.

You feel his hand sneak beneath your dress, searching for your panties. His fingers hover over your core, pulling away from your kiss.

“No panties? Such a dirty slut” He growls placing his hands on your hips and hoisting you up onto his large desk. He pushed you down, pulling your dress up to expose your already wet pussy to the cold office air.

You nod and mutter a quiet “just for you.”

He taps on your lips with his index and pointer fingering, humming at you to open up. You do as you’re told, parting your lips for him without hesitation.

“You’re so perfect for me, pretty girl. Got such a pretty pussy,” he said bracing his other hand beside your exposed hips.

He smiled down at you sweetly, pulling his fingers from your mouth and depositing them into his mouth.

“There’s not a single part of you that I wouldn’t taste, I’m gonna ruin you,” he murmurs around his fingers.

He unbuckled his belt in one swift motion, pulling his cock out in desperation. You looked at him in shock, his size making you grow afraid. You’ve had big, but never this girth.

He pumped himself slowly, moaning at the tight grip he had on his cock. The head was pink and leaking, you looked down the length of your body, your mouth watering at the sight.

“Can’t wait to stretch this tight cunt,” he said rubbing his palm along your pussy. “wanna make you limp to the car, baby.”

You whined at his touch, anticipation building as he runs his tip through your folds, then along your crying slit.

“Fuck—Jin,” you groaned out, enjoying the delicious pain of his tip probing your slit. He pushed your legs apart further.

“You’re so big, can’t take it,” you choked out pathetically, almost screaming as he slowly pushed into you.

“Gonna make you take it,” he grunts, stilling when he’s halfway inside you.

“Just breathe, princess. You’re being so good for me.” He groans into your neck, leaving sloppy wet love bites behind.

You wrap your arms around his neck, breathing heavily as he finally fills you up. You feel his hand sneaking its way down your body, rubbing small circles on your clit.

You clench around him in response, legs starting to ache as he weighs down on you.

“That’s it, hold on baby,” he croons, still not moving.

“P-please, Jinnie. Need you to fuck me so bad” you cry into his neck.

He lifts himself slightly, looking down to take in your thoroughly wrecked appearance. He groans at the sight before him.

“Fuck- you’re so tight,” he moans quietly trying to keep his composure. “We have to be quiet, baby. Don’t want you to lose your job now do we?” He asks smirking at you.

“Don’t care, just need you to move please,” you say breathlessly.

He pulls his hips back, not giving you a chance to react before he snaps forward again. Watching your face as he fills you up.

Your back arches off the desk, wet noises and grunts filling his office space as he fucks you into oblivion.

“Been wanting to defile you for so long. Need to fuck the brat out of you darling” he groans, desperate to feel you around him with every thrust.

“Look at you, so small and precious,” he moans in your ear. “You like taking my cock like this, hmm?” He coos, leaving a kiss on your earlobe before he rams back into you.

The desk shakes vigorously, your hips stuttering upwards as he presses down on your tummy. He growls at the feeling, loving how you trust him enough to let him invade you in such a professional setting.

“Gonna cum-fuck jinnie,” you moan loudly, a whimper slipping from his lips as you constrict around him.

He slows his pace, still fucking you roughly as tears begin to fall from your eyes.

“Such a good girl, cum for me princess” his hand slips down your front, rubbing your clit sloppily.

With a song of his name slipping from your lips, you feel your orgasm rip through you. Pussy pulsing around his cock continuously.

He moans loudly, feeling your cum coat his cock. He places a hand on both of your hips, squeezing as he fucks into you.

His eyes squeeze shut in pleasure, hips moving in a broken rhythm as he comes undone. He opens his eyes momentarily to watch your face as hot strips of his cum fill you.

“Fuck—you look sinful right now, Y/N.” He groans, hands leaving behind bruises as he squeezes your hips.

You feel his cum leaking from you as he fucks sloppily into your ruined cunt. Breathing heavily before he finally stops moving.

You shiver when he leaves you empty, feeling dirty as you lay on his desk. His work is completely forgotten, papers crumbled under your bodies and some even tossed to the floor.

“You’re so gorgeous, darling.” He whispers, leaving a kiss on your lips. You wriggle beneath him, giggling into the kiss before pushing him away.

“We should go home..” you say pushing your dress down, your tipsy state completely dissipated. He nods in agreement, grabbing his handkerchief from his pocket to help clean you both up.

“Trying to take me home already? I want dinner first” he teases as he picks you up from his desk. Letting you hang on to him to steady yourself.

You laughed into his chest, wincing as you walked over to fix your reflection in his mirror.

“I’m sorry, princess. Was I too rough?” He asked concernedly, rushing over to hold you up by the waist.

“I’m perfect, Jinnie.” You said leaning into his touch, staring at your reflections in the mirror.

As you and Seokjin stealthily exit his office, trying to keep your composure, you inadvertently collide with two of your perceptive coworkers, Lisa and Taehyung.

They exchange knowing glances as you nervously explain, "Oh, hey! We were just leaving, I don’t feel good. I think I drank too much.”

Lisa smirks and teases, "You don’t feel good, huh? Seokjin offering to take you home seems awful NICE of him." Taehyung joins in, saying, "Yeah, we've seen the way you two look at each other. Just spill it already!"

You chuckle awkwardly, attempting to downplay the situation. "Nah, it's nothing like that. I'm just feeling a bit under the weather, and Seokjin insisted on being a good colleague, offering me a ride home."

Lisa raises an eyebrow, her expression saying she's not entirely convinced. "Sure, sure. Well, take care, both of you," she says with a sly grin, and they continue on their way.

Once out of earshot, Seokjin laughs opening the door to his sleek car, a low hum of the engine filling the air. You slide into the passenger seat, exchanging a glance with him.

“So much for being inconspicuous, huh?” He asks playfully, resting his large hand on your thigh as he turns into your building's parking lot.

“I blame you for just standing smugly behind me. Where’s your COO attitude?” You say laughing at his remarks.

“Hey! I’m an ex-COO. I’m merely an office worker infatuated with my junior.” Seokjin admits casually, stepping out of the vehicle to open the door for you.

Your heart fluttered at his words, a small smile now gracing your lips. The walk to your apartment is shortened due to your in-unit elevator.

You place your things down telling Seokjin to follow you to the room. You welcome him to get comfortable on your bed while you shower.

“Can’t I join you, beautiful?” He asks pulling you down onto his lap. You smile up at the older man, nodding in response.

“You know, Y/N.” He started lovingly, “I’ve been wanting to tell you how much I’ve wanted you for so long. The first night you stayed at my place, I already knew I wanted you to be mine.” He confessed to you.

“I would sit in the library on my breaks, just to spend quiet time with you. Mostly sneaking glances at you while you sat cutely absorbed in whatever novel you’re reading.”

“May I take you on a proper date, darling?” He questioned smoothly, running a hand down your cheek.

“Yes, if you promise to be mine.”

[finalgilmoregirl]

a Jess fic somehow related to winter/Christmas?

a/n : sorry for basically falling off the face of the earth lol, here’s something small i’ve had in my drafts for almost two years. no gender specified, no y/n

i’ll be home for xmas ☆ jess mariano x reader

there was nothing like the holidays. the cold weather, no school, warm drinks, and the beautiful snow that was soon to cover stars hollow. however this year's winter had been hard to enjoy ever since jess had left to california to visit his dad. you understood why he wanted to leave town of course and had been fully supportive of his plans, but now that he had actually been gone, you felt a void in your life. i mean, calls from payphones could only accomplish so much.

you thought you could handle it. its not like the two of you were completely dependent of each other, you saw each other around town almost every day and if you went a few without talking to each other, it was nothing to worry about. now, you wish you savored your time with him, maybe went on a few more dates with him.

you currently remained laid in bed, relishing in the warmth your countless blankets gave you. it was past 11 in the morning and as you didn't have school and your parents were at work already, you were in no rush to leave your solitude. that was, until your stomach reminded you of its presence and you realized you really couldn't just stay in bed all day without suffering from hunger.

slowly sitting up, you sucked in a breath as the cold air from your bedroom made its way to your body. its now or never, you thought. bracing yourself, you ran to pick up a sweater you had discarded on your desk, quickly putting it on to provide you with some heat. and after finding your slippers, you finally made your way to the kitchen.

as you prepared yourself to make a hot drink, you glanced at the calendar on your family's fridge.

december 22nd.

christmas was just days away. you of course were looking forward to it. good food, presents, classic christmas movies on every channel. but to think that you wouldn't be able to enjoy any of it with jess by your side was a bit of a disappointment. you had only been dating for around eight months, making this your first holiday season together.

what would he have gotten you? you couldn't help but wonder. clothes? cd's? something random, yet thoughtful like a candle of your favorite scent? you chuckled at the thought of jess browsing the candle aisle at a department store.

you took your drink to your room as you looked through your closet, deciding to go for a walk, maybe even picking up a pastry at luke's or the local bakery for breakfast.

picking out some warm layers you quickly got dressed, not wanting to leave your body vulnerable of the low temperature of your home.

as you laced up your winter boots, you spotted something in the corner of your eye. from underneath your bed you saw a book peaking out. as you picked it up you quickly realized that it was one of the many jess had been pushing you to read.

it was the catcher in the rye, a classic, you remember him saying as he handed it to you.

you had gotten only a few chapters in, schoolwork taking too much of your time up for you to actually enjoy it, however now seemed as a perfect time as any to continue.

you placed in in the crook of your arm as you placed the essential wallet and keys into your jacket pockets and prepared to leave your house.

you ultimately decided against going to luke’s as you approached the middle of town, knowing that jess’ absence from the restaurant would feel more prominent. you instead bought hot chocolate at the bakery and sat by the window, so you can take in the beautiful snowy view in the moments you weren’t reading.

you couldn’t help but start thinking of jess again. about how he and luke probably would have came over for christmas dinner. you’re parents were actually quite fond of them, your mother fawning over how sweet jess was to you, and your father surprisingly having a few things in common with your boyfriend’s uncle. maybe next year you thought, sighing as you took another sip.

you were two more chapters into the book before you decided to take a break, your hot chocolate being long empty. a walk sounds nice.

you plan was interrupted however, as the moment you stepped back outside, you saw him.

jess was standing on the frosty lawn of the town’s center with his back turned, looking around, looking for you. you gasped and slowly began walking towards him, maybe you were mistaken. he wasn’t supposed to be back until new years!

“jess?” you called out, and as you approached he turned at the sound of your voice, a smile forming as he saw you. the moment you realized for sure it was him you ran, almost knocking him over with the force you hugged him with.

“hey” he laughed, a small tease in his voice at your dramatic reaction.

“what are you doing here?” you asked him.

"they don't have snow in california." you chuckled at his answer, still trying to wrap your head around his presence.

"and i um", he hesitantly added on, glad your face was buried in his shoulder. "i really missed you."

you stepped back an inch, just enough to see his face and the warm color that began to shade his cheeks. his eyes traveled all over your face, taking in the features he thought about every moment he was away from you.

you smiled widely, "are you blushing?"

"what? no!" he quickly defended, eyebrows furrowing at the laugh you tried to hide at his response. "i'm just not used to the cold anymore!"

you let out a louder laugh at that, softly kissing him before placing your chin back on his shoulder as you resumed your hug.

"yeah, okay." you responded sarcastically. then sincerely, "i really missed you too."

happy holidays ☆

[pengweng-quack]

Bloodbound

Carlisle Cullen x Human!OC

Summary: Place Carlisle in the Edward situation of falling in love with a human, and see what happens

Chapter 3/?

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

Notes:

This is on Ao3 under the same title and username if you'd like to read it there (https://archiveofourown.org/works/54527830)

Posting (just like before) is random lol, hope you guys enjoy this story

Much much longer than Being a Witch with Vampires by the way, so we're in a long ride (or you are, because I already know the story)

Word Count: 2047 words

General warning: I used some religious references in this story so read with caution if you're not so keen into reading that

TW for this chapter: None

PM or Comment to be added on the taglist for this one!

Masterlist

Pulling over at Celine's house, Carlisle spotted her walking out of her front door, clad in a light blue top paired with a khaki skirt. Without hesitation, he hurried out of his car, eager to escort her to the passenger seat beside him.

“Why are there so many cars behind us?” Celine asked, looking behind them, where Rosalie and Emmett’s cars are behind his

“They heard that I asked you out on a date.” Carlisle answered, having prepared the answer in his mind already “Wanted to be in support. I got them to not follow us where I had planned to bring you though, I think you’d want the privacy.”

“That’s cute.” Celine said with a grin on her face. Carlisle moved faster, reaching for the seatbelt on her end and buckling it, the faintest of their skins touching sending electric shocks on his body

“It was a shock, receiving your call.” Celine said as Carlisle started driving, Rosalie and Emmett’s car getting smaller from his rear mirror “I mean, I’ve gotten hints that you were into me, both from your actions and to what everyone at the hospital told me, so like, I wasn’t shocked shocked but that doesn’t mean that I was like expecting you to ask me out or some—

“You’re cute.” Carlisle could only say, looking at her briefly before focusing his eyes on the road

“How long have you liked me anyways?” Celine asked curiously

“I wish I knew the answer to that, believe me.” Carlisle said, a fond smile growing on his face “I’ve just always…liked you in that way.”

He wanted to bare his soul, to confess that she held his entire being in her hands from the moment they met. That she had reminded him the long-forgotten sensation of having a heart. But he held back, a harsh reminder echoing in his mind that their date had been born of necessity, to protect her from the looming threat of a vampire like himself.

They were pulling up in a nearby bar, Carlisle couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment that this wasn't how he had envisioned their first date. Nevertheless, he reminded himself that this moment, imperfect as it may be, was still a precious opportunity to get the chance to be with Celine. He got out of the car, making his way to her side to open the door for her.

“Always the gentleman.” Celine chuckled, following him in the bar and to the bar area so they were nearer to the bartender

"Of course, only the best behavior with the best girl." Carlisle flirted, sitting on the chair next to her "Know what you want?"

"Oh yeah, one Sangria please." Celine ordered to the bartender "You?"

"Just beer." Carlisle answered, thinking of how he'll make it look like he was drinking. He didn't especially like beer in general, having remembered his past when he was still human

"Oh, so the doctor does drink." Celine teased, admiring the doctor out of his coat

'He looked marvelous' She noted, the navy-blue polo shirt seemed to be tailored perfectly fit for him. Its snug fit hinted at the dedication he put into maintaining a healthy lifestyle, even amidst his demanding schedule. His biceps were subtly flexing as he reaches for his wallet, showing to Celine that even if he's older, his physique says otherwise.

"Open a tab under Cullen." Carlisle said to the bartender, giving him his card, as he gives their drinks to them

"I will admit, it has been a while since I've been on a date." Celine said, taking a sip of her Sangria "So, I apologize if I get a bit too awkward for your liking."

"Don't even think of it. I've been single myself for quite a while now." Carlisle replied, fake drinking his beer, the fizzy effect of his drink resting on his tongue. He carefully spat the beer back in the glass, disgusted with the feeling

"How long?" Celine asked

"Since I adopted Edward, Emmett, and Alice which is roughly 20 to 21 years ago, I think?" He lied effortlessly. He felt bad lying to her, knowing that she sincerely liked him enough to go out on a date with him

"Why'd you adopt if you're alone?" She asked again. Now Carlisle was caught off guard, what story will he say that won't sound creepy for her?

"It was an ex-girlfriend's request." He came up with, looking at Celine so she won't get suspicious. She had a gentle smile, nodding at him to continue

'Now I feel twice as bad' He thought. She was so genuine, listening to his story, when most of it was filled with nothing but lies

"Told me that if I wanted to propose, I would have to give her 3 children." He continued, fake drinking again as he thinks of what to add "I adopted them all at once, Edward technically being my oldest, followed by Emmett, then with Alice being my youngest. But they're all near each other's age, so sometimes I accidentally say that they're triplets."

"What happened?" Celine asked, genuine curiosity on her face

"Turned down the proposal. Said that I wasn't enough for her. Now, my sister helps me in taking care of them." He answered quietly, looking away from her in shame. Shame for making such a fabricated story to her.

"Do you regret doing it?" She asked quietly, her hand resting on his cheek and softly making her face him, almost flinching with how cold he was "Do you regret adopting them?"

"Oh no." Carlisle answered, her eyes captivating him "Among the thousands of things that I've done wrong in my life, they are the only things that I've done right."

"You must really love being a father then." Celine said. Carlisle noticed how her smile faltered for a bit, before making it wider again

"Of course, it makes me feel fulfilled." Carlisle answered, smiling back at her "How about you?"

"How about me?" Celine asked, ordering another glass of Sangria for her to drink, having finished the first one "I'm not a parent, I can't be really."

"Why'd you say so?" Carlisle asked, now curious. He watched Celine finish her second glass of Sangria before ordering another one, it was easy to figure out that she was stalling.

"You don't have to tell me; I'll understand if it isn't something you want to talk about."

"I really can't conceive kids. Got tested multiple times already, all results had the same answer, that I'm infertile." Celine revealed in a low tone, feeling ashamed of it

"Well, don't you think that makes us a perfect pair?" Carlisle asked her, not wanting her to think that having kids was something he still wanted "If you ever want to be a mom of some sort, obviously. You don't owe them in being their parent."

"I mean, what if you want to have kids of your own one day?" Celine asked back, nervousness lingering in her tone

As Carlisle observed Celine's vulnerability and anxiety during their conversation, he couldn't help but empathize with her underlying fears and insecurities.

He understood her reasoning in revealing personal information on their first date, recognizing her desire to prevent him from becoming too emotionally invested if she couldn't meet his expectations. Though the nervousness and anxiety lingering in her at the conversation of having children still made his heart break

"A child of my own isn't something that I would worry about." Carlisle answered her "I'm contented with my three children already. I think any more will just make me look like a womanizer, don't you think?"

"I think I like you a little deeper now." Celine blurted out, having just finished her third glass. She was turning red now, the alcohol taking effect on her “I’m sorry, I wasn’t—

"Alcohol talking now?" Carlisle teased her, feeling her lighten up from the deep discussion that they had

“Are you feeling alright? Do you want some water?” He asked again, not being able to help but worry for her reddened face

"Always the doctor. I’m just not really good with alcohol." Celine murmured; her eyes rested on him. She didn’t voice anything out but it was obvious that she wanted something

And Carlisle needed to give it to her.

“Everything alright?” Carlisle asked, looking at her with concern

"Dance with me?” She murmured quietly; an alluring twinkle in her eyes

"Of course." Carlisle answered lowly, willing to entertain her every request

'This was what Alice meant when she asked if I could deny her' He realized quietly, staring as she asks the bartender for a glass of water to soothe her temperature.

She stood up and pulled him to the dance floor, a particularly sexy song playing. Initially feeling awkward beside her, Carlisle couldn't shake the sensation that someone as extraordinary as her was merely taking pity on him.

But amidst the uncertainty, there was an undeniable sense of rightness, as if they were two puzzle pieces finally clicking into place to complete the picture.

Carlisle decided to let loose, following how Celine moved her body. He was wary to touch her, scared that he'll crave more of the temptation.

But Celine took over, gently coaxing his hands to rest on her waist. As she drew herself closer to him, her hands finding their place on his shoulders.

Her scent was intoxicating, she was intoxicating.

Soon, their bodies were close from touching. Carlisle's hands found a comfortable place on Celine's waist, his grip tightening slightly as he pulled her nearer to him.

In the intimacy of the moment, he could feel the magnetic pull between them, her eyes beckoning to him with unspoken desire, her every touch a silent invitation.

“May I?” Carlisle asked quietly, moving his face closer to hers. They felt alone right now, everything and everyone becoming a blur.

Celine didn’t answer by words, but her pulling him down and kissing him on the lips was an answer that was more than enough for him. Every fiber of his being screamed for restraint, urging him to resist the allure of his primal instincts.

But in the heat of the moment, her kiss felt too irresistible, too perfect to deny himself of.

With a sense of surrender, Carlisle allowed himself to be consumed by the passion that enveloped them, losing himself in the intoxicating rhythm of their kiss.

In that moment, nothing else mattered but the connection they shared, a bond that transcended words and defied logic.

For in that moment, Carlisle sensed a flutter in his chest, his cheeks tingling with warmth, as the essence of his vampiric nature ebbed away. He felt remarkably human, enveloped in the tender emotions evoked by their kiss, granting him a precious taste of humanity after 359 years his of vampiric existence.

In that moment, he knew without a doubt that he was exactly where he was meant to be, and who he was meant to be with.

Carlisle pulled his hand from her waist, placing it softly on her cheek, pulling away from what had been his taste of temptation. A smile grew on his face, having just kissed the woman who had unexpectedly entered his life, bringing with her a sense of joy and fulfillment that he had never before experienced in his 382 years of existence

“Let’s go somewhere…private.” Celine whispered, looking at him with fake innocence in her eyes

“You’ve had something to drink.” Carlisle whispered back, resting his hands back on her waist out of habit “And as tempting as you are right now, I do not wish to bed you while you have alcohol in your system.”

“The alcohol leaves my body very quickly so I’ll feel like I didn’t drink before we get home.” She replied knowingly, looking at him, her eyes screaming nothing but desire

“Please indulge me in this.”

Carlisle knew what she wanted, and he wanted it too, but he could hear Edward and Rosalie in his head. They were screaming for him to stop, for him to be rational, for him to think. But he couldn’t, he wanted her.

He needed her.

And she wanted him too.

And what would that make him if he didn’t give her everything that she wants?

[miupow]

okay have to ask about *your* dad!txt thoughts since you've been in my askbox hehe

-ari

omg my dad!txt thoughts... i have so many but i will try to keep this short (i didn't)

txt as dads~

dad!soobin

╰⪼ has four or five kids, and none of them were planned TT they're all close together in age too, one after another.. soobin just can't keep his hands to himself when it comes to his wifey ><

╰⪼ certified girl dad omg but he'd have both... twin girls then a boy, then another girl, and then another boy hehe and they're all so sweet and shy like him :(

╰⪼ his kids walk all over him!! he just can't say no to them when they whine and pout :( gets them whatever they want and will do whatever they ask him to. tea parties and makeovers? nerf gun battles and dramatic storybook readings? doesn't matter he'll do it cos he loves spending time with his kids :>

╰⪼ he's just such a family man TT he loves his little ever-growing family sm and makes it known every day :(

dad!yeonjun

╰⪼ two kids cos he's a single child and wants his kids to have siblings :3 two girls, both spoiled absolutely rotten! they eat his credit card for lunch omg but he doesn't care, anything to make his baby girls happy ^^ they're such brats tho i know it TT have their daddy wrapped around their little fingers

╰⪼ even more of a girl dad than soobin oml... his daughters are his princesses and he'd move mountains for them if he had to!! literally melts anytime his daughters ask for something, he has to get it cos then they'll cry, and he can't stand to see his babies cry...

╰⪼ such a protective dad :( always holding them close, freaks out any time they fall or get hurt, even if it's just a little scrape. swoops them up in his arms n coddles them >< omg if kids were being mean to them at school or something.. full rampage on the poor teachers

╰⪼ always covered in glitter or has bows in his hair, carries their baby photos in his wallet, always running home as fast as he can every day so he can spend time with his favorite girls ;(

dad!beomgyu

╰⪼ he's such a boy dad nothing can convince me otherwise.. honestly that workman episode just solidified it for me. i think he'd have just one son, his mini me :( literally identical in every way, they even dress similar TT

╰⪼ his son is a little hellion tbh but it's okay cos he's cute.. just so energetic 24/7 and never seems to run out of energy TT somehow beomgyu manages to keep up with him.. i know the house is a mess

╰⪼ gyu has such a deep connection with his dad and i feel like it would be the same for him and his son :( they do absolutely everything together, with his son riding on his shoulders

╰⪼ i think beomgyu would be the least prepared to be a dad but i think he'd be such a good one :( before his son was born i think he would have a lot of anxiety about it :(

dad!taehyun

╰⪼ girl dad taehyun hits different im ngl, but i think he would have both a girl n a boy, two kids like yeonjun. they're both so polite and softspoken like their daddy :( n they both have his big brown boba eyes... crying

╰⪼ his kids would definitely be the most well behaved and respectful TT he would make sure that they behaved themselves and had good manners! they'd have good grades and play soccer and just be so intelligent.. he'd just have the best kids

╰⪼ science experiments and ant farms and bottle rockets :( his kids are so curious and he loves to watch them learn and grow <3 he always helps them too, his favorite way of spending time with them. they climb all over him like he's a jungle gym but he doesn't mind cos he's strong enough to hold them both even when they're older :>

╰⪼ like yeonjun he'd be so protective over his son and daughter, always wary about them getting hurt. he's that helicopter dad at the playground who wont take his eyes off of his kids lol. if anything ever happened to them he'd be absolutely beside himself

dad!hyuka

╰⪼ oh hyuka ;( two boys and a girl, opposite of him and his sisters. he'd be such a good girl dad because he grew up around girls but i think his sons would be such mini mes always following him around.. the huening gene is so strong they would look just like him :( he and his sons would be so protective over their daughter/baby sister too

╰⪼ just loves his kids so much :( he'd be such a good dad i can't even put it into words omg, would dedicate his life to them from the moment they were born. the fact that he was a dad would be the most important part of his identity from then on

╰⪼ i think he'd have kids later than the other boys so he'd be a lot more mature when they come into his life, a lot more prepared for the responsibility. omg that's all he would do is prepare when his wife told him she was pregnant, obsessed with learning as much as he can so he can be the best husband/father he can be

╰⪼ just dad hyuka. literally haunts me every waking moment

[judebelle]

CAN WE GET A TRENT & JUDE SMUT PLEASE, like a threesome if u write that but if not then write for either or.

can it be somewhat like Trent or jude is on live and reader is their friend and they start flirting/teasing getting handsy and they end the live getting down to business

PLOT TWIST THE LIVE NEVER ENDED SO THEY TRAUMATIZED THE FANS LOL

livestream - t.a.a x j.b. x reader

a/n : LMAOOO YES I LOVEEE THIS IDEA

c/w : smutttttt, threesome, second hand embarrassment, cursing, flirting

pairing : trent alexander arnold x fem!reader x jude bellingham

word count : 1.3k

- - -

you, trent, and jude were sitting on your couch in your large penthouse. you were a famous model and it was known that you and these two brits had been close friends for some time now. but come on, the tension between the three of you was undeniable. you were perched in between the two boys on your broad couch, holding your new and expensive phone, reading comments on your instagram live.

user23982365 - their friendship >>

liverfool.fan123 - JUDE COME TO LIVERPOOL

neyswife - guys i'm actually y/n

messigoat4life - everybody knows...

sarahisfree - You cute? 😍

y/nsusedtissue - y/n if u had to choose, trent or jude?

you let out an exaggerated sigh when you read that last comment. "neither of them. absolutely neither of them." jude shot you a faux shocked face. "yeah we all know who she'd pick." trent said in a knowingly voice accompanied with a small grin on his face.

"yeah right. she would much rather choose me, mate." jude scoffed jokingly as he slid his hand onto your left thigh - out of frame on the livestream. your eyes slightly widened but you coffered it up with an eye roll, going back to reading the comments. although, as your eyes skimmed the comments innocently, jude's hand creeped closer and closer to your hot core. this earned jude a short glare from you, warning him not to go any further. you would be lying if you said that it didn't make you feel things, but as soon as trent started massaging the flesh of your right thigh, you knew where they were going with this.

the short and flirty glances you three were sharing didn't go unnoticed by fans watching as they commented all sorts of things that you didn't care to read at that moment. you just needed trent and jude.

"okayyy- well uhh.. i think we're going to turn this thing off and um, yeah we'll see you guys another time. bye!" you directed a small wave and smile to your phone before impatiently placing it face-down onto the long table in front of your couch, before turning to see your two friends grinning smugly at you.

"what? is there a problem-" you cut jude's gloating off as you smashed your lips against his, taking his face into his hands as trent dipped his hand into your shorts, stroking your wet core. you let out groans of pleasure as you and jude continued kissing while you massaged the bulge in his pants.

you pulled back from an exasperated jude before turning your head to trent, granting him the same heated kiss you just shared with jude as you moved his hand out of your pants. after you pulled away, you nudged jude back onto the couch and got on your knees in front of him. simultaneously, you were giving trent a look that told him everything he needed to know. he quickly got up and knelt behind you before pulling out his wallet from his pocket and pulling out a condom.

jude gave him a questioning look from over you, who was undoing his belt. "what?" trent asked. "always be prepared." trent spoke as he opened the package, spreading the rubber on his hard cock. jude smirked when looking down at you, moving your hair out of your face an lifting his hips as you shimmied down his pants to his knees.

you looked behind at trent before seductively pulling your shorts down your ass, deciding to stick it out while you were at it as trent bit the corner of his lip at the sight of your thong.

you turned back to jude and palmed his dick through his boxers hard, making his eyes flutter closed. as you pulled out his dick, you heard trent shift out of his sweats behind you. you felt trent put his hands on your hips, slowly pulling you back so that you were in a doggy style position, your hands rested on jude's muscly thighs. as soon as you felt trent enter slowly into you, you wrapped your lips around jude's cock, your moans muffled compared the the groans from the two boys that were caged around you.

trent slowly rocked his hips into you, going deeper and deeper every thrust, while jude rested his hand on your head that was above his hips, his dick in your mouth. jude's panting and whining that were begging you to go faster didn't go unnoticed by you. you hollowed your cheeks around him and bobbed your head up and down, causing jude to press down on your head harder while your hair was fisted in his large hand.

trent picked up the pace behind you as well, letting out groans of pleasure. he was looking down at your hips, watching his dick go in and out of your ass as his hair fell in front of his glazed eyes. "fucking hell.." he muttered as he started going faster and faster. trent was holding your hips in place so that you weren't moving too much around jude, who was bucking his hips into your mouth.

the moans you were letting out at trent's actions vibrated around jude's cock sending him into a frenzy. the sound of skin slapping, gagging, and moaning filled the echoing house as you tried your hardest not to take your mouth off of jude. soon trent was ramming into your from behind as jude took control in the front, holding your head in place and fucking into your mouth.

"fuckin' hell-" and "shit!" was the only words to be heard amongst other similar profanities from the boys' mouths as yours was too full to speak. but both of these boys knew how good they were making you feel, their ego's growing larger and larger by the second.

you didn't know what was better, the fast and deep thrusts coming from trent that were hitting that spot inside of you so well, or the way that jude was fucking your mouth as he made filthy, naughty noises above you. you started to feel your orgasm approaching as trent really sped up behind you, making your body go numb. thank goodness trent was holding you up or else you would've collapsed right there.

it was straight out of a porno. the three of you all came one after another. trent first, digging his hands into your hips as he hissed at the feeling of you clenching around him before he came hard. the mixture of the sting from trent's palms and the noises coming from jude tipped you over the edge as you released on trent's dick, and moaned around jude's. the vibration from your moan was harder and stronger compared to your others which drove jude crazy. finally, he bucked his hips into your mouth as he came, his head falling back onto the sofa.

all three of your gasps filled the musky air as you all were recovering from the best sex you had ever had. it seemed as though after the loud sounds from your fuck session had died down, the sound of aggressive vibrating on the table behind trent grew louder.

all three of you furrowed your eyebrows while trent pulled out of you and turned his torso around to look at your phone that looked like it was about to explode. you could only guess what trent saw on your screen as his eyes widened before he started aggressively tapping on the top corner of your screen as you received message after message from friends trying to warn you about what the whole world was seeing.

maybe you should have double checked the live stream.

[gretavanmoon]

E09

Spinning Now: "Ex" by Aer (2014) (and a little bit of "Wonderin' Why")

Pairing: Sam x OC

Word Count: 12.2k

Warnings: Drinking, Cursing, Manipulation, Cheating, Sadness, Bad Coping Mechanisms, Hella Angst

Smut including: Kissing, Touching, Oral F!Receiving, Fingering, Unprotected Sex, Reluctant Dominance if you squint

+ So these songs aren't ones that were suggested by you guys, but Aer has always been one of my favorite groups, and these two songs have kind of always gone hand in hand for a little storyline playing out in my head. Not much thought went into this, but sad surfer boy Sam just felt too appealing to pass up lol. Give them a listen if you don't know them, they'll make you want to live in a little beach town with nothing better to do than skate & surf <33

◇ ◇ ◇

A glance to your watch lets you know it's nearing eleven, but the bloom of warmth in your chest from your scotch on the rocks is making you forget about your impending 9AM clock-in. The bartender, Marcus, raises an eyebrow at you as you slide the empty glass his way, silently asking for a refill. 

“Same thing, Sammy? Since when did you start drinking scotch, anyway?” he asks, refilling your glass with a handful of ice before pouring the Johnny Walker overtop of it. You return his question with a menacing glare; he knows exactly when you switched from whatever draft IPA was on tap to… this. You watch the ice cubes swirl around in the glass as it fills, keeping silent as your bare foot taps on the wood-slat floor beneath your barstool. “Oh. Right, nevermind,” he responds with a bite of his tongue before being approached by another patron. 

You sigh as you turn in your stool beside the ice machine, running a hand through your saltwater-damp strands, feeling the effects of forgetting to put sunscreen across your cheeks this morning. The icy liquor hits your teeth as you sip from the edge of the glass, letting the fire ignite inside your chest again. The feeling is one you’ve become fond of as of late, but you know the headache that will accompany it will have you kicking yourself in the ass tomorrow. The wind is blowing the palms Eastward, and the warmth of the humid air feels like a storm may be preparing to blow through, if you had to guess. 

Sand is still gritting between your teeth every now and then as you people-watch at the crowded beachfront bar, Donovan’s, watching as locals and tourists alike dance and sing along with the house band. The multicolored spinning lights are bouncing off the faces of the strangers mixed in with your acquaintances, and you suddenly feel a little envious that you aren’t out there enjoying being alive with them. 

A year ago, you would have been right in the middle of it all, stealing the microphone away from the front man, belting out the words to Sweet Caroline or Margaritaville, but now, things are different. Now, you stick to the sidelines in a way that you never have before. Your entire mind, body, and soul have been overtaken by a completely new human being, someone that you aren’t familiar with, drifting further and further away from your true self as the sun rises and sets over the ocean.

Are you happy with yourself?

No, not necessarily. But what the fuck is your other option? You can’t run away to a new place, and you can’t ignore the elephant in the room, so instead of taking control of your life, you let it have you. You bask in the fact that this degenerate side of your lifestyle has become more addictive than any drug you’ve ever done, and you have to admit, it’s more delicious than you could have ever imagined.

◇

A few years ago, now, you’d ridden into this tiny little beach town with your surfboard riding behind you on your baby pink Schwinn bike. You’d come here with nothing but an oversized backpack stuffed full of ratty t-shirts and a few pairs of board shorts, a straw hat, and your lucky koozie in your back pocket. You barely even had more than $300 in your wallet. You’d spent the first week sleeping on the beach and avoiding high-tides, riding around town looking for a job and a place to stay that had a decent roof. 

Finally, after four or five days of searching, you’d landed a job as a surf instructor at the Ten Down surf shop, working Wednesday through Sunday for minimum wage plus tips. You were over the moon, of course, working in the field of what you knew and loved best, the ocean. 

Growing up as the only child of a single dad was oftentimes more difficult than it was enjoyable, but your father took the hardships in stride. He’d raised you alone, working while you were at school and then teaching you how to surf in the evenings. Even if your father struggled, you never knew it. He was a wild character, always the life of the party and had more wisdom in his pinky finger than you had in your whole body. All your memories of him are fond, and he taught you more about life than you’d ever learned on your own. 

He was street smart, intelligent in ways that didn’t make sense to other people. And damn, if he didn’t love the ocean. Loved it so much that he devoted his life to it. And in the end, it was the ocean that took him away from you. Why he thought venturing out during a storm by himself is beyond you still to this day, and you’ve only just now started to forgive him for it. Maybe it had something to do with your mom not being there to help raise you. Maybe he thought he was more powerful than the waves he rode. You’ll never know.

It was only a week after you got hired at Ten Toes that your co-worker Scotty figured out that your home was somewhere up underneath the pier, and asked if you’d like to crash on his couch with him and his housemates. You couldn’t turn down his offer, of course, knowing that if you had to sleep one more night with the sandflies you might actually move back to your shitty hometown. The house was small, but big enough to hold his three roommates and you on their sofa. 

In hindsight, that might have been the absolute best year of your entire life, thus far. Everyone you lived with was on the same level as you… surfing to live, and living to surf. You shared meals, met their families, partied way too much, and spent every single night together watching the sun drift down below the waves from your seats on your boards. You were making money, you were having more fun than you ever imagined possible. You were in a constant state of bliss, that is until she came around and turned your entire world upside down. 

The day your manager introduced her as the new hire at the shop was the first day of the rest of your life. Her sweet and timid hand taking yours into a handshake, taking your breath straight from your lungs as she introduced herself as ‘Cora’. You became enraptured by her, the way her green eyes poked through her lashes, the way her freckles sat perfectly across her tanned face, the way her long hair reached far past her waist…

She was the newest hire at the shop, just like you had been the summer previous, so you understood completely how it could be a little difficult to grasp how things went, there. So you took her under your wing a little, volunteering to show her the ropes and walk her through her probie-period of learning. She was shy at first, hardly giving you more than a few sentences a day. But you committed each of those sentences to your memory, hanging on her every word like they were the last ones you’d ever hear uttered from her perfectly pink lips.

Over the period of that summer, your shy coworker became your good friend, and as the blaze of the summer started to drift into the coolness of Fall, your good friend became the one you ended up falling asleep with under the pier, this time by choice. 

You fell fast and hard for one another, freefalling blindly into what felt like a bottomless pit that the two of you would never tire of floating through. Everything was perfect, she was perfect. Every waking hour was spent with her, surfing, hiking, biking, socializing… and the sleeping hours were spent wrapped up in each other, tangling your limbs and intricately weaving your emotions into what you could only describe as pure and effortless love. 

She came out of her shell once she became comfortable with you, spending more and more time away from her own roommates to crash out on the futon in your room you were able to acquire when one of Scotty’s buddies moved out. For the longest time, it felt like life couldn’t get any better, like you’d truly hit the peak, and there was no way you’d ever be able to be any happier than this, here, with her. 

‘Love, Sammy… you love me?’

‘With everything I am, baby, I swear…’

And you did, you really and truly did love her. All the other failed relationships of your past dulled in comparison to what you had with Cora. You didn’t have to try with her, the ease of your lives came and went just as easily as the waves crashed onto the beach and drifted away again, always unfaltering and headstrong.

You weren’t even upset when she decided to get a second job at the only 24-hour restaurant in town waiting tables during the lunch and dinner shifts. In fact, you were happy, seeing as how the two of you had begun to save up a little money to rent a place of your own. 

You weren’t upset when she began to pick up more shifts there at the restaurant than she did at Ten Down. And you weren’t even pissed when she started bringing home more money than you, even after you’d been employed at the shop for almost two years. You shrugged it all off, because you were a team, in this together, sharing everything under the sun as you survived the world with her. 

You weren’t pissed. Not even in the least. 

Until one night in early summer when you woke up on a Saturday morning ready to rush to the shop for your surf lesson, pulling yourself from the sheets only to realize she wasn’t asleep next to you. You checked the bathroom, the other guys’ bedrooms, outside on the porch… she was nowhere. And her bike wasn’t parked outside. 

Her phone went straight to voicemail over and over and over, and her texts pulled up green as you began to realize her phone was off. Panic set in as your mind began to rush with possibilities of if she was hurt or harmed… thoughts back to last night reminded you that you’d crashed out early after a smoke session with Scotty, sending her a sweet goodnight text that assured her not to work too hard. 

After telling Scotty to call you if he heard back from her, you took off on your bike down the sandy street toward the restaurant, hoping to talk to someone who may have closed with her last night. 

“Nope, they cut a couple of us at 11:30 and sent us home, I haven’t seen her since…” one of her coworkers told you, only sending your panic into a deeper spiral. You called her roommates, her friends, hell, you ever texted her mom to see if anyone had spoken to her since yesterday. But all came up empty handed. It was like she had vanished. 

You decided to ride to the shop to see if by some miraculous chance she’d be there, ready to work her shift. Your feet pedaled hard as you zipped through alleyway shortcuts and across parking lots to get there faster, your heart pounding in your ears as you continually checked your phone for any updates. Your tires slid sideways across the pebble gravel as you let your bike fall against the tin building, and you rushed inside in a huffed mess of nerves and sweaty exhaustion. 

You yelled through the building at your coworkers, announcing your arrival. Your voice was chopped and strained as your hands shook with anticipation. 

“Damon, Marie! Have you guys heard from–” 

You were stopped in your tracks as you met eyes with her, seated at the check-in desk sipping coffee from a bright orange mug.

“What the FUCK! Cora, where– why…where have you been?” you squealed as you approached her, your hand reaching out to touch her to see if you were imagining things. “Why weren’t you at home?” Your last sentence came out as a hushed whisper only meant for her, as your other two coworkers walked away from the scene. 

Her normally chipper and honest demeanor was replaced by something you weren’t familiar with as her eyes fell from yours, her words skipped and uncertain as she tried to explain herself. 

“It’s nothing, Sammy, baby… I– I went over to Cameron’s for drinks with some of the restaurant crew after work last night… I had too many drinks and decided I shouldn’t ride home, shouldn’t walk, it’s nothing, I just…stayed there.” Her story would make sense if she had ever fucking done something like that before. 

“Cameron’s? Baby, you hardly know him, and where is your phone? I’ve been calling all morning…” you pestered, still out of breath. 

“It’s dead, it’s in my bag…” she said, leaving her sentence with no more explanation as she nonchalantly sipped at her coffee. 

“And you didn’t think to charge it? To text me from someone else’s phone to let me know where you were? Fuck, Cora, I almost sent out a search party out for you…” your voice began to raise. “You never–why did you…?” You were at a loss for words as you tried to understand her reasoning. You knew she would have been just as worried if it were you… well, you think. Your blood was boiling for a whole other reason now, as you knew she deliberately chose to keep you in the dark for the entire night, and well into the morning.

She stood from her stool as she glanced to the double glass doors behind you, meeting eyes with her family of three for their early morning surf lessons. She placed her hand gently on the center of your chest as she still avoided eye contact. “Sam, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Please, don’t be mad…” She left you standing there in the middle of the shop like a dumbfounded idiot, her explanation offering you quite literally nothing. Your hands dropped to your sides as you fought with admitting defeat. That was really fucked up of her…

Things only got progressively worse after that. What once was a loving and beautiful sex-fueled relationship turned into one of secrecy and absence, the action of her not returning to your bed each night becoming something you got quite used to. 

Drag-out fights left her crying in your arms, pulling her back into your shanty of a home you’d finally found for $400 a month. Both of you soaked from tears and the rain outside after you told her to just go… only to have her tumbling back into your bed, ravishing each other like it was the first time you’d ever laid your hands on her. 

‘Don’t make me go, Sammy… this is our home… it’s ours…” she’d beg as you fucked into her, sprawled out across the mattress. 

‘I’m not making you go… you keep choosing to leave…”

But yet, the vicious cycle continued. The best thing in your world, the most joy you had ever felt, continuously choosing to stay away for days on end like some type of terrifying nightmare. After so long, you stopped following her location on your phone. You stopped making sure she was okay, wherever she was. You stopped letting her into your house when she’d come back begging for another chance.

Fuck it, you’d decided, losing all the fight you had left in you when you heard through the grapevine that it wasn’t her partying that kept her at Cameron’s, it was Cameron himself. 

That was the fight to end all fights. The worst one yet, when she did everything but admit that she’d been cheating all along. God damnit, you should have known. All the red flags were whipping across your face, your gut screaming at you day in and day out to listen to it. But you didn’t, because you loved her. Until that fight. 

That was a long, long time ago. And after that, she never came back home.

◇

Tonight, as you work on your third scotch and deliberate on going and scooping up a girl on the dancefloor and sneaking her away for a night of revelry, your mind feels more jostled than normal. 

For the past five weeks or so, Cora had inched her way back into your life after a year of separation, friendly at first, and seemingly more mature than when she had left. But, like the addictive drug that she was, she cast her spell across you, hypnotizing you into falling back into bed with her on multiple drunken occasions. 

‘I’m still trying to fucking heal from you Cora, none of this feels right…’

‘I know it doesn’t baby… I’m so sorry… but nobody can love me as good as you… nobody can get me right like you can…do you know what I mean? I still crave you, baby… Don’t tell me you don’t miss me…”

After five backslides, you’d begun to fall into a routine with her again, not giving one single fuck if she was with Cameron or not. She’s still beyond addictive, a substance so disturbingly pure that you swear she isn’t as tainted and devious as she seems. Her entire being is laced with some kind of other material that you swear could end up being your demise. 

The sex is even better than it was before, rounds upon rounds of the most beautiful love you’ve ever made, but you know deep down that it is far from such. There is no love in that home. No laughs shared, no blissful reconnections that end with breakfast in bed. No early morning dates out riding the waves together… No, all you do is indulge in each other’s bodies after nights of too much weed and too much alcohol, using each other to get exactly what you want and nothing else. 

You can’t seem to pull yourself away from her spell, sneaking her into bar bathrooms and out onto the beach to hide her in the dunes, spilling yourself into her without a care of any repercussions. You’re drunk on her. A slave to your impulses, a traitor to your own devices. It hurts. It really fucking hurts. You know your heart still lives within her, but hers is so far gone that you don’t think it has a home at all. And you know for a fact that it doesn’t belong to you, anymore.

You think you’ve successfully managed to slip through the cracks on her list tonight, not having seen her for a few days, now. You don’t frequent this bar in search of her, like many of your friends think you do. You were here first, this is your spot. But apparently it’s hers again, too, much to your simultaneous dismay, and deep-seeded pull to fulfill your dependency on her. It’s a double edged sword any way you toss it. 

“Haven’t seen her tonight, Sammy, maybe you’ve escaped her wrath yet again,” Scotty jokes as he slides into the barstool beside you. Scotty knows everything about you, and you him. You’d never admitted it to one another, but you’d probably call him your best friend. After living and working side by side with him for the past three years, you’ve been forced to like each other no matter how opposite you may be. You both share a love for surfing and it’s a language you both can understand, so when it comes to your fateful relationship with Cora, he gets it. 

“Yeah, maybe so,” you agree with a sigh. “Kinda weird for a Saturday though. She’s usually got her fingers in my belt loops by now.”

Scotty scoffs a laugh, running a hand through his waves. “God damn, you’re still tied up in her eh? You ever gonna let yourself be happy?”

You sigh a deep breath of disappointment in yourself. “Tied up’s not the words, Scott. I’m fully aware that I’m a sick individual who can’t seem to stay the fuck away from her. Why am I like this?” You ask your friend over the loud music. “Should I seek help?”

“No helping you, little brother!” Scotty teases as he rustles the hair on your head. “She must squeeze that thing right,” he jokes. 

“Yeah, she fuckin’ does,” you agree, avoiding eye contact with him. “That’s all it is now, man. Swear.”

“Don’t lie to me, Sammy boy. I know you better than that shit. You telling me you have no emotions when you sleep with her? No feelings anymore?”

You grit your teeth, holding back the truth. “I dunno, I mean… we were serious, man. I loved her. Now that we’re doing this shit again…” Your inner monologue with yourself fights to the death once again, your head and your heart fighting an endless battle with one another. “It just is what it is right now.”

“She still with ol’ boy?” He asks. 

You shrug. “Don’t know. Don’t care,” you say blankly as you take another sip from your glass. 

“So you’re just fucking, now. No strings attached?”

“That’s it, my friend,” the admission feels lifeless, as you know you still hold a candle for her.

“You know she’s using you right? This can’t be healthy for you…I know she broke your fucking heart, man,” Scotty goes on, adding a little empathy to his tone. 

You simmer on his words for a second, knowing they came from a place of complete honesty. He’s entirely right. 

“I’m guilty, I’ll admit to that,” you say. “My heart’s losing but. My body’s winning,” you cheese a smile at him, feeling transparent as you admit to letting a woman use you for just your body. 

“Livin’ the fucking dream, my guy,” Scotty laughs hard as he places a hand on your shoulder, finishing off his beer. “You want another?” He asks as you turn back to lean on the bar, finally feeling the effects of your intoxication hitting you hard. Numbing the pain you so often succumb to. 

“Ah, maybe one more. Gotta open tomorrow,” you say, winking to the bartender to add one more to your tab. 

“You still uh, you still think the deal’s gonna go down?” Scotty asks as he leans his head in closely to yours. 

“Hope so, everything is on track for it to be official by beginning of next season,” you explain. You hadn’t told many people yet, but the original owners of Ten Toes had decided to take an early retirement, and since you and Scotty had become their most trusted and knowledgeable employees, they offered you the business as a partnership. “You think we can do this?”

It’s a large endeavor, and you are terrified beyond belief, but you try your best to see it as the opportunity of a lifetime, taking the reigns of an already successful business and making it into your own. All the pieces are already there, all you need to do is sign your name, and your dream career of being an entrepreneur is yours for the taking. 

Scotty takes his new beer in his hand, leaning it in to cheers against your glass. “I think we can do this.”

You nod at him as the two of you share a moment, letting the realization fall on you once again. “We growing up, finally, Sammy boy?”

Just as his question rings through your ears, you catch sight of her. The pretty blonde who holds every single key to all the chambers of your heart. The one you’d settled down with, the one who could truly care less about anything besides stringing you along for no more benefit than her own agenda. 

She catches your gaze from across the bar, pulling her hair behind her ear as she begins to saunter your way through the crowd.

“I hope so, Scott. Maybe tomorrow, though. Looks like I’m staying an immature asshole for tonight.” You tilt your chin her way, causing Scotty to follow your gaze her way. 

“Fuck. She showed. Thought you might actually get a night of freedom,” Scott complains with the slightest bit of clip to his tone. You know Scotty is worried about you, wants the best for you. And you do, too, but for tonight you’re going to allow yourself to think with the wrong head yet again. And with that tight dress she has on, you’re going to fucking enjoy it, too.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, man,” Scott says with defeat as he slides his half-drank beer mug across the bartop. 

“Night Scott.”

Her eyes haven’t left yours since you caught sight of her, the breeze blowing up the ruffles at the bottom of her stark white dress. She’s making her way closer, her perfectly tanned legs sauntering across the floor as you finally break your gaze, turning to the bartender to order her a drink. 

You feel her presence behind you, the smell of her perfume already wafting across your nose. She pulls the stool that Scott had just inhabited a few inches closer to you, leaning her chin down into the crook of her folded arms.

“Where’s Cameron?” you ask lowly as the bartender slides her glass in front of her.

“Hello to you too, Sam,” she barks from behind her arm, sitting up to squeeze the lime into the vodka.

You cut your eyes her way, knowing that sometimes it wasn’t unlike her to show up at this bar and flirt her way into your embrace, only for Cameron to show up an hour later and whisk all of her attention right away. It’d only happened a couple of times, but still yet, it stung. 

“I said where is Cameron?” you bite, really not feeling like pursuing this if he was going to show up. 

She sighs a quick breath of aggravation. “Not here. Not coming.”

You sip at the scotch that’s discontinued burning your lips, now numbing not only your mouth but your ability to make decisions, too. “You came all the way over here by yourself, again?”

Cora flips her brown leather bag up onto the bar, her multiple keychains hanging off of it clanking against the wooden bar. “Yeah, Sam, I did. I’m actually… back in town, kind of…” she trails off, smoothing her waist-long locks against her hip. 

All the blood rushes from your head, straight into your extremities. Fuck. Back in town?!

“What do you mean kind of?” you ask, beginning to tap your toes against the bottom rung of your stool again. 

“I mean I’m working on getting back over this way… looking for a.. place…” She speaks almost as if she’s embarrassed to be admitting this to you.

“What, things not working out in la la land?” you scoff. 

“Can you cut the shit, Sam?” she slams her glass down. “God, everything has to turn into some bullshit argument with you. Every single time.”

You can feel the resentment billowing up in your chest. You know that she has regret, and she lets it show every time you’re together. But you revel in the fact that she made her bed, now she has to lie in it. And everytime she ends up back in your bedroom, you press the dagger a little further, knowing that hurting her just as much as she hurt you is enough to get you through. Until the next time, of course. 

“I’m not arguing, Cor. Just asking.” You make a point to keep your words short. If an argument is going to happen, again, it won’t be by your hand. 

She huffs. “I just… want to be on my own right now. Figure my shit out. Plus the surf sucks down there, anyway.” You can tell she’s lying. 

You smile behind your glass. “Cameron only lives fifteen minutes away, doll. Can’t imagine it’s that much different.”

“Why are you pushing the Cameron agenda? We’re not even–”

“Not together? Do you think I’m stupid, Cora? People talk, and I talk back. It’s not a fucking mystery,” you run your tongue behind your teeth as you feel the rage boiling up in you again, knowing that this fourth scotch isn’t doing much to help. “Everyone knows what happened, what you did to me. So just admit it, you’re unhappy because the grass wasn’t greener. Now you want your old life back, that what it is?”

You know this isn’t a discussion that needs to be held at this bar. You know that your words are flying a lot faster than you’d intended. But you deserve to bitch.

“Sam, you really don’t want to do this,” Cora hums as you hear the band move from one song to the next, the crowd finally riling up at the late hour.

Your skin is burning with rage at the realization that she’s seriously thinking about moving back here again, after everything that had happened. After knowing what she did to you. Cheated, lied… then allowed herself to play you like a marionette, a puppet she could call on whenever she needed a quick fuck. 

No. No. This is your home, now. 

“No, I kinda do, Cora,” you raise your voice a little, turning your body toward her to face her completely in your stool. You could feel the intoxication slurring your words and blurring your vision. “Admit it. You left me because I obviously wasn’t what you wanted, so you ran away without even having the decency to tell me why… to even break things off before you hopped into bed with Cameron. Admit it! You came here looking for me tonight, didn’t you? Looking for the same goddamned thing you always are.” You were borderline yelling at her, now. But it felt good. It felt good to finally get it all out, the alcohol doing away with all your inhibitions. 

She cowered away a little, sitting back in her seat as her face got more red with each passing second. But you’re smarter than that, this is all part of her act. 

“You think I came here just so you’d take me home again, Sam?”

“Yeah, Cora! What the fuck else would you be here for?! This happens way more than it should. Honestly, it’s slutty behavior, and it’s not a good look on you, it never has been.”

Just as your last word leaves your mouth, you feel the icy stickiness of vodka splashing you across the neck and chest, the lime slice thudding against your stomach as the cold liquid drips down into your lap, followed by a hundred slivers of ice. 

You throw your hands up into the air as you scoot your stool back, catching the attention of a few people seated nearby. “What the fuck, Cora?! Are you fucking crazy??” you scream, brushing off the vodka that dripped down your chin. 

“Fuck you, Sam!” she yells as she grabs her bag and jumps from her seat, rushing down the steps back out onto the beach. You glance to Marcus, wordlessly telling him that you’ll pay your tab tomorrow.

You follow her down the steps out onto the beach that is nearly empty, now. You can feel your feet tripping over themselves as you chase her to the pier, the tide already coming up well above the beams. The wind is whipping furiously, now, and the storm you predicted earlier is most definitely on its way. 

“Cora! Stop!” you shout, ordering her to slow down. 

“NO!” she yells over the howl of the wind that was now blowing tiny specks of sand against your legs. “Leave me be, Sam!”

Finally she makes it to another set of stairs that lead up to the road, not far away from what used to be your home with her. “Cor! Please!” you beg. You don’t know why you’re chasing her, your chest still dripping with the vodka soda she decided to douse you with. Why? Why follow her at all? Fuck her, fuck this… but your legs carry you, yet.

She stomps up the stairs, finally turning and crossing her arms across her chest when she reaches the top. Her eyes were red, but no tears wet her cheeks. “What? What, Sam? What do you want me to say?” she barks. 

Your body is like a magnet to hers, pulling you instantly into her bubble. You reach up and brush away the invisible tear that you know is bound to fall at any second, willing yourself to catch it before it decides to escape. “I want you to fucking admit it to me, Cora! Be fucking real with me for once! Tell me everything, not just the parts of the story that benefit you!”

She rips herself away from your hand, turning and walking through the parking lot. “I fucking can’t Sam! I won’t! I know I’ve screwed everything up, and it’s all my fault!”

You chase after her again. “Why, Cora?! Be a fucking adult and tell me! I deserve at least that much, don’t you think?” Your breath is heaving again as you practically beg her to just speak to you.

She continues running through the lot and down the street as the clouds continue to push across the dark sky, threatening rain. You can smell it in the air as a few flashes of lightning flash over the sea again. 

She finally stops at her car, standing beside it as she furiously tries to dig her keys from the bottom of the bag. You finally catch up, maneuvering your body to stand between her and the door. She’s in full-on sobs, now, choking back the cry that you’ve seen her put herself through time and time again. “Let me go, Sam,” she begs through clipped chokes.

“No. You’re going to talk to me. I’m–I’m sorry I called you… that. I shouldn’t have said that, and I deserve to wear this fucking vodka,” you say reluctantly as you brush it off you again. “I’m not letting you into this car until you talk to me. Tell me the truth. Once and for all, Cora.” You could feel the sadness sticking in your throat, all the old emotion you had for her bubbling up again. Old love is a strange thing, the way it intertwines itself in your bones, strong and stoic until the person that shared it with you comes back and makes it fragile again. Like cracked glass, you begin to shatter for her. 

“Tell me you cheated on me. Just say it. Tell me you love him more than you ever loved me, and I’ll let you go,” you say with defeat, hot tears filling your eyes. “I just need to hear it, please… I can’t do this anymore, Cor…”

Her hands come up to cover her eyes as she turns and paces, your final request hitting her as hard as it hit you. You can’t do this any more, you can’t chase her for months on end, only for her to race back into the arms of someone else. It’s time to end it, if it’s going to end at all. Still, even after all this, you’d do anything for her. 

Finally she gets herself together again, standing tall and sturdy before you. You watch as her hands slowly make their way to wrap around your waist, her chest still heaving, too. Just the feeling of her skin on yours is enough to make every muscle in your body relax. Her hands gripping into your back, her cheek pressed to your still-soaked chest. “I’m sorry, Sammy. I’m so sorry…” she cries.

“Sorry for what, Cora? Please…”

Her arms tighten around you as her mouth finds your neck. “Please don’t make me say it… I can’t stay away from you…”

You slump with defeat, but the wet kisses she’s started to lay onto your throat begin to cloud your judgment. “Please say it, baby. Just be honest with me for fucking once…”

Her teeth bite into your ear lobe making you hiss, and she leans into you, pressing her core right against you. God damn her. It isn’t fair, all the times you’ve let her get the best of you, using you and manipulating your feelings. She knows all your weaknesses, and your most prominent one is her. Your eyes peep open through the tears, seeing the palms still blowing sideways in the wind. It’s going to pour at any second. 

Her hand snakes its way between you as she takes your already hardening dick in her palm, not caring if anyone is even around to see. Fuck her and her ability to melt you into putty every single fucking time. “Cora…” you grit as she squeezes you in her hand. “Tell me you still want me…”

“I think it’s pretty fucking obvious, isn’t it baby?” she laughs through a sob. “I want you, I’ve always wanted you.” 

You can’t stop yourself from grabbing her face forcefully in your hands, pressing her tear-soaked lips to yours in a fiery and wanting kiss. Her nails grip into your back, raking across it and back over your stomach as she continues to squeeze your still-covered cock. Your mind is racing with thoughts, but what’s fucking new? Here we go again…

Raindrops begin to patter on your head and on the hood of her car as loud thunder rumbles in the distance. You kiss her hard, just like you always do after some time apart. She’s delicious in every sense of the word, her skin still glowing from the sunscreen oil she applied to her shoulders earlier in the day. The sand still caked on her long blonde strands, the taste of the lime still sour on her tongue. Everything about her, delectable and addictive, and once again, you can feel yourself dancing with the devil.

“This is such a fucking grey area, Cora. I hate when you do this to me…” you mumble as you break away, the rain falling harder, now. 

“Let me make you happy, Sammy, please. That’s all I ever want,” she pleads, kneading you in her hand. 

You grip her shoulder, turning her to put her back against her car door, switching places completely. You push her back, pinning her against the door. You can feel the sexual tension rising with each passing second as you grit your jaw, wanting nothing more than to devour her right here where you stand. “What would make me happy is if you tell me the truth. But that’s not going to fucking happen, is it?” you ask, raking your eyes over her face.

“The truth is that I’m a fucking fool for you, Sam. And I always will be,” she admits, her teeth biting at your lip as the two of you pant into one another, the need growing heavier by the minute. You thrust your hips into her touch, your body begging you do something.

“I don’t think you’re the fool here, Cora.” The rain begins to fall in giant beads, bouncing off the metal car hood as the thunder rips through the sky. “Park across the street and come meet me up in the shower,” you order her as your hand grips her ass, pulling her even closer into you. 

“Are you su–”

“Don’t make me think about it,” you say as the rain begins to soak through your shirt. “Just get in the car.”

◇

You know the hot water is going to sober you, and the last thing you need right now is a clear head. You strip the soaked shirt from your limbs before you even make it inside your house, flicking the kitchen light on as you search the cabinet for a glass. You pull the scotch down from the top of the refrigerator, pouring a few fingers as you take a long drink, letting the liquor get you back where you needed to be. This is all so fucked... You feel so fucking weak.

You reach into the freezer and grab the ice tray, popping a few cubes free and dropping them into your drink. You roll your neck on your shoulders as you take a deep breath, making your way upstairs to the bathroom. 

You eye yourself in the mirror as you push your hair back from your shoulders, and your reflection meets you with a disapproving look. As the years go on, you notice yourself looking more and more like your father, his pointed features becoming more apparent as you mature toward the age he was when he passed. Your eyes are red, your skin is blotchy, and your expression is way past defeated, knowing that here you are again, about to drunkenly make the same mistake you’ve made time and time again. 

You can still feel the scratches she left behind on your skin as you step into the steamy shower, the hot water stinging where her fingernails tore at your skin. The feeling of her hand on you over your shorts, the remnant taste of the lime on her tongue. You’re still so attached and devoted to her, when all she’s ever done is give you quite literally, nothing. You’re the fool.

After a few minutes of standing motionless in the water, you hear your bathroom door creak open, and her footsteps enter the small room. 

“S’me,” she mutters, and you kick yourself into gear.

“Get in here,” you demand, your attitude on one hundred as you surprise even yourself. You hear her begin to undress. 

The curtain pulls back, revealing her completely nude self as she steps in to join you in the shower. “Hey…” she says meekly as you fill your hand with shampoo. 

“Hey.”

You step to the side, letting her get under the water. You watch as chill bumps cover her body as her temperature adjusts, her head falling back to soak her hair as she shudders a little. You watch her perfect tits bob a little as her arms reach back to wet her hair, her nipples hardening as the water rushes over them. Your eyes drift down to her chest, her stomach… her tan lines more apparent now in the dim lighting of the bathroom. Perfect. Always so perfect.

She finally wipes the water from her eyes as she steps out from the streams, and you motion for her to turn around as you put the shampoo from your hand into her hair, beginning to massage it softly into her scalp. 

After a few seconds, she finally speaks. “Why’re you so good to me, Sammy? After everything…after me treating you the way that I do…?”

Her words take the breath from your lungs, making you second guess this whole thing. “I think you know why, baby.”

“But I don’t deserve your attention, much less for you to be washing my hair for me.”

You bite back what you want to say, instead channeling your dad and his wisdom. “Sometimes showing your love selflessly to someone who doesn’t even want it means more to them than telling them that you do. You might not remember all the times I told you how much I loved you, but you’ll probably remember me showing it.”

It’s silent for a beat as your fingertips rub into her scalp. 

“Loved,” she murmurs.

“What?” 

“You said loved. Do you not…”

Ah, fuck. 

You swallow hard, unsure how to even answer that question. “I don’t know what you even want to call it anymore, Cora. It’s… a mess, you know?” You level with her. You feel her nod as you turn her to rinse her hair. 

As you meet her face again, she avoids your gaze as her eyes jump to the ceiling, blinking away guilty tears. Maybe she’s finally beginning to understand…

“Of course I still feel something for you, I probably always will. We spent years together. Things like that don’t go away in the blink of an eye. But, you mistreated me, Cora. And now you won’t even admit to it. You don’t even want to be civil enough to give me the benefit of knowing the truth. And that tells me… maybe you never even loved me back in the first place.” Your words of admission make her bite both of her lips in, her chin beginning to shake as she fights back the tears again. Her eyes stay trained on the ceiling above you. 

“I did, Sammy. I swear I did. I do…” she whispers. 

You shake your head as the last of the bubbles fall from her strands. “No. See, no. You can’t love me anymore. You can’t love me and then sneak back into the sheets with someone else. It doesn’t work that way. Don’t you understand that?”

She wipes the water from her face again, her eyes red with disappointment in herself, but you hold steady. “What we had, it was good. It was perfect. I wanted it all with you, Cora. I wanted the flower pots on the porch, the planning dinner while we make breakfast, the surfing from the time the sun comes up until it goes down again. Sharing a home with you, sharing a closet, sharing my deepest fears and all my memories… you were it. It was going to be you from then on out. But you tarnished it. All my trust in you is gone, especially now since you still won’t even give me what I need. I need reciprocation. You don’t bring me happiness anymore. You bring me doubt, and suffering, and bad decisions… So no. You can’t love me. I…I can’t let you.”

She stays silent as your words sink in, the water now steaming up the air between you. 

“...Yet here I am in your shower with you. In our old home. That you invited me back to, knowing and going along with the exact reason I came here in the first place…” she shakes her head. “You’re just as helpless as I am, Sammy…”

She steps closer, gently craning her neck to meet your lips again. What started as a peck, a barely-there tap that spoke more words than you needed it to, quickly turns into a rushed and fervent kiss, your tongues dancing and fighting against one another as her hands grip into your damp hair. She’s so completely overwhelming to you. You’re unable to even form thoughts as you feel her lips on yours, so velvety and sweet. Four hands, already gripping and pulling at each other again, her breasts pressed against your chest as they slide over you. 

“Tell me, Sammy…” she pulls away. “Do you still crave me? Do you still think about me when you lay down at night?”

Her hand grasps at your hair, pulling it back as she starts in on your throat again. The feeling of her, so addictive and so blinding. Her mouth and tongue gliding against your skin as the hot shower continues to pour over you making you dizzy as that last shot of scotch begins to soak into your bloodstream, giving you just the right amount of confidence to get through this again. 

You swallow and bite back a moan at the feeling of her mouth on you. “Of course I do,” you admit, as much as you don’t want to. 

“Have you ever had someone fuck you the way I did? The way I do?” she goes on, her lips making their way down your shoulder. 

You refuse to answer, knowing that all she’s doing is using her siren song to lure you back to right where she wants you. But the funny part about it all is that you’ve already succumbed to it.

Instead of speaking, you slip your hand between her folds, making her entire body quiver as your finger finds her clit within seconds. She steps her feet apart a little as you pull her wetness up, coating her all over. “God, Sam…” she purrs as her head falls back. You move your hand to let your thumb go to work, wasting no time in letting your fingers enter her completely. Everything happens fast, your sexual pull to her undeniable and unable to be ignored. She cries out, her sounds bouncing off the plexiglass walls of your small shower. 

Her hand finds your dick again, stroking it right in time with the circles of your thumb against her. You grit your teeth, sending your middle two fingers even deeper inside of her, flicking your fingers against her most sensitive spot. “Oh my god…” she cries again, her hand gripping hard on your shoulder to hold herself up. 

You know how her body works, and you know that she is liable to get off at any second, so you drop to your knees, knowing that you’d do anything in the world to taste her release on your tongue right now. You’re blinded by desire for her, her words from earlier  falling completely to the wayside. 

You pull her leg over your shoulder while she leans with her back against the wall, her hands ruffling hard into the roots of your hair again. “Baby, fuckkkk…” she wails as you let your tongue dip into her, pressing it as deeply as it will go. The water is falling directly onto your face, and you feel like you might be drowning, but you don’t need air right now. If you’re going to suffocate, you’re going to suffocate just like this. 

Her hips jut forward onto your face, rolling slowly as she begins to corner your tongue right where she wants it. If she’s going to try to say she still loves you, you’re going to make her eat her words. You reach one hand behind her, gripping at her ass as you feel her body begin to shake. You knead your fingers into the muscle, pulling her further onto your mouth, flicking your tongue against her clit as you add just the right amount of suction. You pull your hand away, signaling with the two fingers that were just buried inside her to come on, let you have it. 

“That what you want baby? Want me to come on your face?” she asks, panting through her words as she pulls your hair incredibly tight. 

“Mhmm…” you reply, making sure to vibrate the word directly on her clit. 

Her hands hold your head in place as you feel her stomach muscles tighten, and you do all that you can to hold her upright. Finally you feel her letting go, coating your face and tongue as she mutters obscenities into the thick air. Her hips tremble in your hold, but the taste of her is immaculate, the sight of her letting go for you forever being burned into your brain. 

You hate it. You hate this.

With one final pull of your tongue across her, you stand back up, taking her tits in your hands as you delve your face onto her collarbone, sucking hard at the skin purposefully leaving behind a bright pink cherry hickey. “There. See if Cameron notices that tomorrow,” you jerk, knowing that it will piss her off. 

“Fuck off, Sam. Are you fucking serious?” she bites as her words come through a little more heated than the blissful expression her face gives. 

“Yeah, I’m fucking serious. Now, do you want me to fuck you in here, or on the bed?” you ask, pressing a hand to her stomach to push her against the wall again. 

“I–I…”

“No, none of that. Tell me what you want,” you reply with a little bit of a slur, watching as her eyes glint with surprise. 

“Fine,” she breathes. “Both.”

“Both? Fuck, baby. You’d think after how the night has gone you’d ask for the bare minimum, but. God, pulling more out of me than I even bargained for. Just like always, huh?”

You know you’re being a jackass, but you really don’t care. If you’re only fucking her for the sake of it, and she isn’t going to give you the truth you’ve been searching for, might as well do it up, right?

“Spoiled. Always so fucking spoiled,” you bite again.

“Sam…”

“Shh. Stop talking. Turn around. The only word I want to hear is my name leaving your mouth,” you demand.

She does what you ask as she turns around and faces the wall, pressing her cheek up against it as you pat between her thighs, having her step apart a bit as you take yourself in your hand, pumping a few times before lining up with her. You take a second to pull her hair to the side, sucking her skin into your mouth again as you finally push yourself into her. The angle isn’t the best, but you make it work, bending your knees a little to press into her as far as you can. 

“Motherfuck, baby…” she coos as you thrust further inside, savoring the feeling of her wetness coating you once again. 

“Hmm-mm. My name, baby,” you say as she begins to arch her back a little, leaning away from the wall to give you deeper access. Her right hand comes back to pull at her own asscheek, stretching the skin as she cuts her eyes at you.

“S-Sam…mmy…” she utters as you begin to furiously pound into her, the muscles of her ass like shockwaves across water.

“There it is, baby, that’s all I wanna hear…” you grunt as you gather up the hair that’s splayed down her back, picking it up into your hand and wrapping it around your fist.

You use it as leverage to arch her back further as you let your other hand slap across her ass, the sound of the smack startling her into a fit of needing moans. “Fuck, Cor… you feel so fucking good...just like always…” you say as your hips continue into her, messy and slick as the water continues to make everything a soaked mess. 

You swear you could do this for the rest of forever, but even through the thickness of the air around you, and through the clouds clogging up your inebriated mind, something about sex with her suddenly feels different. Even in the heat of teetering on the edge of an orgasm, you feel like the earth has shifted, a giant crevice metaphorically forming in the ground between the two of you, separating you by what felt like miles.

Something is off. No, not off. Gone.

Completely just… gone. Just like that. 

You look down at the gorgeous body of the only one who has ever made your heart beat fast, and suddenly you see her just as she is– a woman.

A woman who has lied to you, cheated on you, tested your patience and made you question your every move. Manipulated you, used you in every sense of the word. And though she told you tonight that she still loves you, could you even trust her enough for it to be the truth?

This isn’t what you want. This isn’t even close to the happiness you know you deserve. Scotty is right. He’s always been right. 

But as your body and human instinct begin to defeat the thoughts rushing your mind, you shift gears, pulling her hair up to meet her ear with your mouth. 

“You said both, right?”

You pull yourself out of her, hearing her cry out at the loss of contact. You reach behind you and turn the water off, reaching outside of the curtain to grab two towels. You toss one to her and dry yourself off a little with the other, quickly running it through your hair as you rip the curtain open. “Hurry up, go get on the bed.”

She gives you a side glance as she squeezes the water from her hair, stepping out and into the bedroom. You follow her, your bodies still dripping wet and red from the heat of the water. If you’re going to do this for what you’re deciding is going to be the last time, you’re going to do it right. 

“I said on the bed,” you bite as you watch her hesitate. “This used to be your house, why are you being shy?”

“I… I don’t know, you’ve never really acted like this before, just… I picked out this comforter, and you still have it…”

You stand for a second as the flashes of lightning fill the room, the sound of the rain absolutely pounding on your metal roof. You shrug, unknowing of what else to really say. “I mean, why would I get another comforter?”

She shrugs again as she sits down on the bed, slowly inching herself backwards as you watch her hair drip onto the sage green material she once was in love with. 

“Look, Cora, you came here to hook up, right? Are we gonna finish up, or what?” your tone surprises you, you don’t even really know who you are right now. And she’s right, you’ve never really acted like this before. But in all honesty, this is the very first time ever that you feel like getting yours, so she can leave. And never come back. You’re washing your hands of this bullshit. The rose-colored glasses are being thrown into the fire, and you don’t even care to stick around and watch them melt.

“Yeah, Sammy. Come here… show me what I’ve been missing,” she says with a pull of her pointer finger. 

You damn near roll her eyes at her. What she’s been missing? Is she fucking serious?

You shake your head and scoff, kneeling down to crawl across the messy bed covers when an idea pops into your head. 

Love, huh?

You can make love…

You lean down, pressing slow, sweet kisses to the insides of her thighs as you move from there to her still-dripping cunt again. You let your tongue ghost over it again, making her shiver at the contact that you’d so graciously blessed her with earlier. “You cold, babe? Want to get under the covers?”

She nods her head, and you pull the puffy green cover over the two of you, instantly warming the chilled air around you. “That better?” you ask, trying to throw on the charm.

You kiss all over her body, gently running your tongue over the places you know will make her shiver and squirm, paying special attention to take your time. Your hands rub into her as your tongue drifts, making your way up her body slowly as the thunder rolls in the background. You make your way up to kiss her, letting your lips dance passionately across hers as you feel her body beginning to want more from you. She cranes up, her hips jutting as you can tell she’s getting antsy. Her hands finally wrap around your waist, pulling you roughly into her. 

“Want you, Sammy…please…” she begs as she breaks away from the kiss. 

“Patience, baby… you want me to show you?” you ask, leaving the question open-ended on purpose, the sentiment of love suddenly feeling like poison in your mouth. 

She nods hard, wrapping one hand around your neck, and the other around your dick, massaging her hand up and down the shaft as she tickles her fingertips around the head. It makes you shudder, and you feel yourself become impossibly hard in her hand. 

You reach down and roll your fingers through her folds again, making sure she’s still where she needs to be. “So wet for me, baby… always so soaked. You think about me sometimes, huh? Think about me and get all excited…make yourself get like this…” you breathe into her ear, your voice just a whisper as you taunt her. 

“Yes, baby. Always, all the time… miss you so bad…” she says, but you hear no ounce of honesty in her tone. None. 

Finally, her hand guides you to her opening, and you press forward again, filling her slowly at this new angle as her head shoots backward into the pillow, her mouth gaping open as you enter her, inch by delicious inch. You grit your teeth as you watch her face in awe, her doe eyes finally coming down to meet yours as you hit the hilt.

“Baby, god, please…” she groans, pulling hard at your hips. Watching her already falling apart like this is exactly what you want. You begin to slowly fuck into her, rolling your hips deviously slow as you rock into her, paying special attention to take this slowly again. 

You back up, pulling her knees up to her chest and holding them there as you roll your hips into her again, hitting her at another impossibly deep angle, low and slow. “Jesus Sam… you’re so fucking good, baby… please keep going…” her moans are pleading and her eyes flit open and closed; you can tell she’s absolutely enjoying every single second of this. 

You’re enjoying it, too, but that crevice in the ground is only becoming wider, sending you further and further away from feeling any type of connection with her. Suddenly you’re on another planet completely.

You let her legs fall to the sides again as you go back to missionary, resting either elbow on the sides of her head, putting you face to face again. You take her in a kiss again, licking your tongue into her mouth as you let it quiet her whimpers. 

“Like this baby? This how you like it?” you ask, rolling your hips with even more passionate force.

“Mhmm.. yeah… just like this… just me and you…” she pleads, taking her tits into her hands as her breath picks up. 

You lean back again and cross one of her legs diagonally between you, hitting her from the side now. Her hands grip into the sheets as you hear the wetness between your skin smacking together, her breathing picking up significantly. “Oh my godddd, what the fuck…” she cries, her body absolutely falling apart for you. But still, you hold strong, not letting any emotion at all come through. And to your continued surprise, it's fairly easy. 

“Roll to your belly,” you demand, and you pull out just long enough for her to do so. You enter her again, and she stays flattened against the mattress. You maneuver her legs so that they’re closed together, making her feel ten times tighter than she did before. You fall against her back, letting your body weight do most of the work as you continue quick thrusts, now.

After a few minutes, you watch as her hands grip into the comforter again, holding on for dear life as she whines, turning her head sideways to look at you. For the first time in your life with her, you see love in her eyes, but not the kind that you yearned for so heavily. Not the kind that was going to give you everlong happiness. 

“Sammy… I’m close baby…” she says, and you feel her walls fluttering around you. You reach a hand under her, finding her clit again and rolling it under your middle finger, giving her double stimulation as you continue from the back. “Oh my god please, yes…” she cries, and within seconds, her body is silent and shaking as she hits her peak, her breath hitching in her throat as she does so.

You aren’t far behind, the sound of her getting off striking a chord deep within you to carnally follow after her. But you are careful. 

You deliver a few especially forced and quick thrusts before pulling all the way out, letting yourself go across her back. You pump yourself with your hand as you make sure you finish all the way, still yet feeling nothing at all for the woman beneath you. Had you finally broken her spell?

You collapse beside her, lying on your back so as not to get the bed too messy. You’re panting and tired, fanning yourself with your hands as you feel the humidity from the storm rolling in through the open windows. After a few seconds of catching your breath, you sit up and go into the bathroom to get her a warm washcloth, returning within seconds to get her cleaned up. 

“Thanks, Sammy,” she mutters, her tone very different than it was just a few minutes ago. She rolls over to face you, pulling the thick blankets over her body. You both lie there in silence for a few minutes as you contemplate what to do, now feeling a little clarity from the alcohol leaving your system. 

“Why did you… ya know…” she asks shyly. 

“What?”

“Why did you pull out?” she asks, taking you by surprise. 

“Well, you’re not my girlfriend anymore, so. Think that’s a good reason.” You’re glad you’re able to keep up the careless demeanor that so graciously fell upon you earlier. 

She’s stunned silent for a second. “I’m not anybody’s girlfriend, Sam.”

You laugh through your nose, the notion of her answering part of your request only just now coming from her. “Hah, good to know. Fucking two hours late.”

“How many times do I have to say I’m sorry before you’ll believe me?” she asks, rolling up to lean on her elbows. 

“I guess as many times as you want to say it, I don’t know,” you quip, not really feeling like entertaining this same goddamned conversation for the thousandth time. 

“Well,” she says lowly, “I am. And I’ll keep saying it. For as long as it takes.” You bite your tongue before looking into her eyes, her bright green irises staring back at you with absolutely zero emotion. She’s still not telling the truth. She’ll never fucking tell you the truth.

“Yeah, here’s the thing, Cora.” You roll over to lean up on your elbows, too. “You can say you’re sorry a million times, but it doesn’t mean shit when you don’t have the intention of changing your behavior. I’ve begged you to be real with me, and I’ve never gotten it. I haven’t gotten your true self in ages, Cor. I don’t even know who you are anymore. I’ve given you a hundred chances. And the fact that you want to move back here is a little unsettling for me, to be honest. Scotty and I are about to inherit the business, and I swear to god, I can’t have a distraction like you around if I’m going to run this business the way it deserves. I know you’re not being honest with me. I know you, and I feel like I know you even less now. I deserve happiness. I deserve to get what I give, and I know you’re not the person to give it to me. I’m not perfect by any means, but at least I’m willing to listen, and change my ways if I need to. I’m frankly tired of the back and forth, Cor. I’m exhausted. Showing you how much I care for you and then you rushing back to Cameron, it’s not what I want. It’s never gonna be what I want.”

“Why do you always have to bring up Cameron, Sam?!”

You smile, her actions proving exactly what you intended them to.

“Because you becoming defensive when I mentioned him just now instead of becoming defensive of literally all the other shit I just said… really put it into perspective. That’s all I needed to hear.” 

“What the fuck do you mean?!” she cries, her voice strangled. 

“I mean, you’re practically numb to all the other shit I said until I bring him up. Only then do you try to defend yourself. Only then do you even hint at being truthful with me. I’m fuckin’ done, Cora.”

You begin to stand from the bed, grabbing a t-shirt from the closet and throwing it her way before pulling on a pair of shorts. 

“That’s not what I mean, Sam! You know this! Where are you going, are you leaving?” she says in succession. 

You run your fingers through your hair, turning back to look at the one who was once the love of your life still naked in your bed, begging you to come back, but all you can feel is the couch downstairs calling your name. 

“You can sleep here, I work early tomorrow. Just make sure you lock the door behind you when you leave,” you say as you open your bedroom door, listening as she calls your name from behind you over and over until the sound of the rain drowns her out.

It fucking hurts, it really does. But the rush of relief you get as you make your way down the steps and into your living room is almost enough to knock you over. Finally. Finally… your pull to her no longer feels like a rope wrapped tightly around your hands. Having sex with her just now brought you a disconnect that you’ve never experienced before. No longer did it feel like she was woven into the deepest depths of your soul, but instead she was just a section of your life that you experienced. And now, you’re ready to move past it. 

Did that really just fucking happen? Did you finally do it? 

You curl up on your cozy couch as you listen to the heavy rain now turn into a drizzle, the orange glow from your salt lamp in the corner making you feel more at home in your house than you ever have. You know you’re about to get the best sleep you’ve ever gotten, dreaming about something other than her haunting your mind. You feel like the whole world is now at your fingertips, ready to be taken advantage of, and lived.

◇

As your bare feet struggle to stand on the wooden bartop, you balance yourself in the center, leaning back to check with Scotty and Marcus. 

“How’s that? Is it dead-center?” you ask as you bite a nail between your teeth, a hammer in one hand while you hold on to the ceiling with the other.

“Little to the left! There…there! Perfect!” Marcus yells out as you position the nail in the saltwater-worn wood of the bar. You pound the nail in, and grip the string that’s fastened securely on the back of the old photo frame. You hang it over the nail, making sure the picture is hanging balanced and straight. 

You hop backwards down off of the bar, standing back with the other two as you place your hands on your hips. “Damn, that does look good, doesn’t it?” you agree as you look at the photo of you and your dad hanging perfectly over the bar, you about 9 or 10, his hand on your shoulder as you pose with your very first surf board.

“He would have loved it, my man,” Scotty says with a pat to your back. “I never even met him, but I know he would have.”

You nod. “Yeah, thanks for letting me put that up, Marcus. I’ll see it more here than I will at home…” you tease as you join Scotty in your respective bar stools.

“That’s an understatement,” Marcus agrees with a laugh. “You two are here more than I am.”

Cora never came back downstairs that night, nor did you go up to tell her goodbye when you left for work that next morning. She didn’t leave any notes, send you any texts… and when the day came for you and Scotty to sign the paperwork setting you up for the rest of your lives, she was the absolute last person on your mind. 

She never came back into town, either. If you had to guess, she probably moved the complete opposite way, much to your delight.

Now, you don’t think of her when you’re out on the water, you don’t think of her when you smell her favorite sunscreen. She’s still a memory, of course, and if she called you today saying she needed you to fix her bike or sell her a new board, you would. But that would be the end of it. 

You’ve taught yourself what it means to be loved by yourself, and yourself alone… knowing that at the end of the day, you’re the one that has to comfort yourself to sleep, and no one is going to love you more than you. It’s fucking corny, you know, thinking of life in that way. But it makes sense, and fuck, if it isn’t liberating.

Life’s peaceful air feels different now. Even surfing feels more fulfilling than it ever has. You’re headstrong, you’re confident. You feel like you’ve gained more knowledge and wisdom from owning this business than you ever thought you would, all in part to the memory of your dad, and what would have made him proud. 

Even Scotty is proud of you, your best friend on earth. The two of you together are a force, bringing in more money to the company than it had ever seen before. You’d never tell anyone that, though. And you’ll never flaunt it. 

You’ll just sit at Donovan’s every night in your bar stool beside the ice machine, laughing with Scotty as you scream Sweet Caroline, and drink anything but scotch.

◇ ◇ ◇

xoxoxo J

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