#probably too fluff for kinktober but well

[niningtori]

an iron man | oneshot

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: beomgyu has only ever known how to live function as a rental sexbot. he fucks whoever and whatever comes his way with a forced smile plastered on his face. that is, until you, a self-proclaimed trainwreck, come along.

genre: android!au, sexbot!au, angst, romance, fluff (more than i ever thought i could ever write i fear...), skippable smut at the very end (will be marked)

warnings: very brief and vague mentions of beomgyu being forced to engage in sexual acts he does not want with previous clients, skippable smut at the very end (will be marked)

smut warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming, praise, dacryphilia, sub!gyu

word count: 14.7k (trust i will not be writing this much again if this flops BWNWJSJEJDK)

notes: terrified to post this one because this is probably my favorite thing i've ever written and if it gets a bad reaction i might die :,) also very unsure if this is the best time to post it since it's during kinktober so i'm not sure if the demand is there but i love this work so so much i pray you all like it. if you don't read anything else from me, i hope that you read this bc i rlly care ab it :,) please don't be mean i beg

beomgyu doesn’t know how long he’s been living like this. living is an odd term, too, and it’s not just because “life” is ill-defined for an android, but because to call what he experiences a life feels like a bastardization of the term. his power is turned on at some point, usually late at night, he fucks or gets fucked by somebody he probably doesn’t know, then he does the same shit all over again. so yes, he may be “alive”, but he wouldn't dare to call what he experiences living. living is too precious of a term to be used so cheaply on a sex android who’s made available for rent for the highest bidder of the night.

he’s seen how people live through his scattered vignettes of human life. he only gets them when he’s powered on, but he soaks them up with pleasure because they’re the only thing he’s ever known. some people do it wildly, living unattached to everyone and everything. their lives are not completely dissimilar to his, in a way, except they have a choice in the matter. they have time to find themselves, what their likes and dislikes are, and they get to connect with people in a way he will never have the power to. others, though, live the kind of life he really wants. they live by loving and being loved, knowing and being known. he wonders what it’d be like to know somebody outside of whatever secret deviant sexual pleasures they have. he wonders what it’s like to be known, too, but he guesses you would need to have something for someone to care enough to know about in the first place. he has no such thing.

it’s a night like any other when he’s powered on by a total stranger. he briefly takes in his surroundings and notices that it’s a really nice place, but you wouldn’t be the first rich person to rent him — not by a longshot. next, he takes you in. now, there’s no reason for you to dress up, really. you have no need to tempt him, as he will be able to feign attraction no matter what you look like, but he still finds it odd that you seem to have forgone any effort to appeal to him, if only because most people’s fantasies require them to look and feel sexy; but you don’t look sexy at all. you look like you’ve just gotten home from a long day at work, and honestly? you kind of smell like it, too.

“do you think you could do the dishes for me? i’m exhausted,” you ask with a perfectly-timed yawn. what… ?

he short-circuits for a moment as he tries to think of an appropriate response. he’s never had anyone try to get him to do chores for them, but maybe this is some sort of weird roleplay? maybe you want him to act as a house husband for you before doing the deed, which isn’t necessarily a problem since he’s well-versed in acting, but there’s just one issue.

“i don’t know how,” he tells you honestly.

“you don’t know how to do dishes?” you ask curiously, 

“it’s not in my programming,” he replies. if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’s embarrassed because of the way he hesitates and looks away from you when he says it. he can’t possibly feel that, though, so it must just be your imagination.

“oh… that’s alright. okay, do you know how to clean a room? mine’s kind of dirty,” you try. 

“n-no,” he says, and he wishes the earth would just swallow him whole. he’s never failed at living up to expectations, and never so badly, at that. just what kind of fetish is this? 

“that’s okay,” you sigh, and he may not fully understand it, but he can sense your disappointment. “well, what can you do?” and the question is not asked maliciously, but with what seems to be genuine wonder. ah. he knows how to answer this one. slowly, he walks up to you and loosens your hair. you look up at him in shock, but he just cups your face, swiping his thumb across your lower lip. 

“i can do whatever you want me to, baby,” he whispers alluringly. “just tell me how you like it.” you’re so stunned at his switch in demeanor that you forget how to speak for a moment, but you quickly recollect yourself and pry his hands off of you.

“i don’t want you to do anything,” you insist. “i’m just tired. if you can’t help me clean, that’s alright. you can watch something if you’re bored. i think that’s it. well, goodnight.” beomgyu is malfunctioning at the moment. he thinks the gears in his head might be sparking while he tries to understand this new development. you don’t give him time to process it, though. you just slam your bedroom door shut behind you. he thinks he hears you lock it, too.

genuinely at a loss at the thought that he has nothing and no one to do, he sits himself on your couch. he tries not to make himself too at home at first, just barely making a dent on it and scooting to the very edge of the cushion as to not appear to be too relaxed. what if this is some sort of test? what if you’re actually going to come out soon so you two can fuck? until then, what should he do next? thoughts like this plague him until he accepts the fact that you are actually sleeping. your obnoxiously loud snoring is a dead giveaway, and he finally, finally feels brave enough to fiddle with your remote control. 

he scrolls for something to watch. movies and shows have been on as background noise during sex before, so he’s somewhat familiar with them, but he’s never gotten the opportunity to pick for himself or actually pay attention to what's happening on screen. he settles on a romantic movie about a robot who joins human society. the robot falls in love with a human girl, but in the end, the robot has to leave the girl because the town won’t accept him, even after using him. she marries a human man and has children, and eventually grandchildren, too. she still loves the robot even though he’s gone, which he thinks is supposed to make him feel sorry for her, but all he can feel is pity for the robot, who spends the rest of his life alone. 

it’s enough to make him cry, which he shouldn’t be able to do in a non-sexual setting, but he does it, anyway. it’s just so unfair to him. the girl is able to live a normal life while the robot is doomed to be alone forever. why? because he was born different? it’s not his fault that he was invented, but he spends the rest of his time on earth paying for the crime of existing in a world not built for him. the more beomgyu thinks about it, the more wronged he feels. he’s outright sobbing by the time you plop down on the couch beside him. he jumps up and straightens his posture while trying in vain to regain his composure.

“yeah, this movie makes me cry, too,” you quietly remark. he’s silent, not because he didn’t hear what you said, but because he genuinely doesn’t know how to act after being caught red handed.

“can i ask you something?” you ask in lieu of his lack of a response.

“yes,” he feebly answers.

“why are you crying?” you question with a tilt of your head, but something in him tells him that you already know.

“because the movie made me sad,” he admits after a pause.

“are androids supposed to feel things like that?” 

“... no,” he replies after a pause. 

“then why can you?” 

“i… i don't know. just please don’t say anything to my owners,” he pleads. he knows that if the company that owns him were to find out about this, he’d be scrapped in a heartbeat. or worse, they’d analyze him like a labrat to try to find the anomaly within him. his “life” as a sexbot will be over, and he’d really rather be a box of scraps than live as a case study in a lab somewhere. 

“it’s okay,” you tell him with a reassuring smile as you watch him trying not to spiral. “i won’t tell them. it’ll be our secret.” beomgyu has never had a secret to share with anyone before, so he feels an overwhelming amount of excitement at the idea that he will finally have one. his chest feels warm at the thought.

“thank you,” he says with a grateful smile.

“no problem,” you reply with a yawn. “i’m tired, so i’m heading back to bed. i just wanted to get some water. goodnight, for real this time.” 

“goodnight,” he murmurs softly. you return his words with a sleepy smile and go back into your room. he finds that he’s smiling even when you leave. 

he spends the night consuming as much media as he conceivably can before he has to leave. usually, he'd be powered off after he’s done being used, so he greedily savors every moment he can. who knows if he'll ever get this chance again. when you wake up, you're surprised to see that he's exactly where you left him, still watching the screen intently.

“good morning,” you say while stretching your arms. 

“good morning,” he replies. 

“are you ready to be returned?” you ask. 

“... yes,” he lies. 

“okay. i think somebody will be here to pick you up in an hour or so. you hungry?” 

“i don't really eat,” he bashfully answers. for some reason, he's embarrassed at the fact that you're treating him like a human while he's unable to fully act like one.

“oh. i guess that makes sense,” you nod. 

things are quiet until he’s picked up, but it’s not an awkward silence. you sit next to him on the couch as you wolf down some breakfast and let him watch whatever he pleases. when he eventually hears knocking at your door, he feels an incomprehensible sense of dread.

“i think that's them,” you remark, breaking the silence. 

“y-yeah,” he replies. 

“well, it was nice to meet you,” you say, reaching out your hand for him. he’s unsure what to do with it. not missing a beat, you gently grab his hand and shake it. he's stunned at the physical contact, and he's still reeling when you let the man from the rental company in. you have a brief conversation with him before he walks towards beomgyu.

“goodbye,” you tell the android with a smile and a little wave. 

“... good—” and the man switches him off.

-

the next time beomgyu is powered on, he’s in your house again. relief floods him when he realizes it. you don’t seem as exhausted as the last time he saw you. when that was, he has no idea, but if he had to guess, he’d say it was just last night because of the fact that he’s so popular he’s rented almost every day.

“hey,” you greet him with a smile. he’s still feeling relieved before he realizes that tonight might be the night where you ask him to have sex with you. maybe you were just tired last night and had no desire to fuck, but he can tell that you’re feeling more energetic tonight. 

“i didn’t catch your name,” you add. 

“... beomgyu. i’m part of the choi line, but i’m a custom model, so they gave me a name,” he tentatively replies.

“nice,” you nod, and you briefly introduce yourself before asking if he wants to watch a movie. 

“watch… a movie?” is this some sort of euphemism for fucking? it wouldn’t be the first time he’s heard of something like this. as mentioned before, some people like movies as background noise. 

“yeah, you can pick,” you say, casually plopping down on the couch and patting the cushion next to you. he hesitantly takes your cue, and he’s mentally preparing himself for what comes next before you take a blanket and cocoon yourself in it so tightly, it’d be impossible for him to touch you.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, and he jolts a bit when he realizes that he’s been staring in disbelief. “oh, are you cold? do you want a blanket, too?” 

“‘m fine,” he replies.

“are you sure? the clothes they make you wear look a little thin,” you observe with your nose wrinkled, and he feels impossibly small under your surveying eye. “here, i’ll get you some sweats. i think soobin left some the last time he was here.” 

“who’s soobin?” he asks a little too quickly. so quickly, in fact, he doesn’t even have time to process why he even asked.

“my friend. stay here, i’ll grab them for you.” 

when you return, you have a long pair of sweatpants in hand and a big t-shirt. 

“you can change in the bathroom. it’s down the hallway and to the left, okay?” he nods in response.

he strips his clothes off as best as he can, and it feels like he’s shedding a second skin. when he’s finished undressing, he pulls on the clothes you gave him and stares in the mirror. it’s in his programming to always be mindful of how he looks, but he feels especially self-conscious now that he’s wearing a normal outfit. he fixes up his hair and clears his throat before exiting your (messy) bathroom and making his way back into your living room. he finds you fiddling with your phone before you look up at him.

“took you long enough,” you tease, and he blushes, which stuns you. just how human is this guy?

“s-sorry, i —” 

“hey, i’m just kidding. you’re fine. you look pretty good in those clothes — soobin would be jealous,” you chuckle. his ears perk up at the mention of soobin again. is he your boyfriend? he must be. why else would he have clothes at your house? is that why you don't want to sleep with beomgyu? because you have someone already? if that's the case, why rent him at all? but he is not brave enough to ask these questions, so he settles for a soft “thank you” and returns to his spot on the couch.

you toss him the remote and he catches it with ease before unsurely flipping through your streaming services. he finds something that piques his interest and turns to you with an uncertain look before you nod encouragingly. he selects it and lets it play. he doesn’t mean to, but he finds himself sinking further and further into the cushions as it progresses. 

it’s a sweet movie — a romantic comedy about an amnesic woman whose memory is wiped clean every morning, but a man falls in love with her, anyway. she never remembers him, so he has to make her fall in love with him in a new way every day. he finds himself smiling throughout it, but a particularly funny scene has him actually laughing for the first time. it’s a squeaky sort of thing, and he has never laughed before, so he’s somewhat surprised as it leaves his throat. he looks to you in trepidation, but you just smile warmly and respond with a soft chuckle of your own. he finds that he looks to you every time a new development occurs, and you always answer encouragingly. 

the end of the film surprises him. it’s bittersweet in that she never does get her memory back, but the man makes a video recounting their entire love story for her to watch every time she wakes up. it ends with them living happily together in spite of everything, and it’s enough to make him sob. he turns to you and sees that you’re teary-eyed as well, but you seem to be enjoying his reaction so much that there’s still a grin on your face. after the film ends, you can tell that he has something on his mind.

“what’s wrong? didn’t you like it?” you gently ask.

“i did. i just don’t understand,” he replies timidly.

“don’t understand what?” 

“why he would do all of that for her, i guess,” he says. 

“because he loves her. when you love somebody, you’d do anything to be with them. you always find a way,” you tell him, and the sentiment seems to strike a chord within him.

“even if they’re that different?”

“of course.”

-

beomgyu spends the following nights with this same routine. he’s switched on, sees you standing in front of him with a smile, gets comfortable, and watches as much media as he possibly can while you two chatter away about every scene. he learns much more from it than he ever did from experience with his previous renters, and he finds himself becoming more and more emotional by the day. you never try to question him or press him to explain any of his feelings, and it just makes him feel even more comfortable with you. 

one day, he even feels comfortable enough to ask you a question. the question. 

“can i ask you something?” 

“of course! what is it?” you reply in earnest. beomgyu has never directly inquired about you.

“why do you rent me? i mean, i know we watch stuff together now, but why rent me in the first place?” and even when he feels exponentially more at ease with you than he ever has in any other context, he’s still nervous when he asks it. 

“oh, my friend did it as a joke, i guess,” you shrug. “he thought i needed to get laid or something, but i’m not into stuff like that, so i just thought i’d ask you to help me clean. obviously, that’s what i actually need,” you giggle. what he feels at your words can only be described as disappointment. “stuff like that”? so you’re not into sleeping with sexbots? is it because you find them disgusting? is it because you find him disgusting? he’s not sure what he expected, but this wasn’t it.

“oh. so why don’t you buy a cleaning bot?” he asks softly, and while you are usually pretty perceptive of his emotions, you don’t register the fact that he’s at a loss right now.

“i dunno. my parents were always against that sort of thing. they thought it was wrong, i guess, so i didn’t grow up with them like everyone else did. i didn’t really have an opinion on them until i met you,” you tell him while grinning and lightly nudging him with your elbow. he tries his best to smile because, in theory, your words are really sweet. you see him as more than just another android, so why does he feel like that’s not enough? 

the fragile connection you two have made seems even more fragile now. at least, it does to him. you only met each other because of a joke your friend just so happened to make, not because of fate or the divine intervention that he always sees in the movies. maybe in another world, your friend rented a different sexbot. maybe you’d even treat them the same way you treat him. the thought alone makes something ugly burn in his chest. 

still, you are oblivious to the internal war raging within beomgyu. 

“hey, i’ve got an idea,” you tell him, and he perks up a bit. “have you ever listened to music?” 

“not really,” he replies solemnly. people have played it in the background of their sexual escapades, but he hasn’t really gotten the chance to listen the same way humans do. you finally register his crestfallen appearance, but you chalk it up to him feeling like he’s missing out. 

“why don’t we listen to some? i can play a bunch of different genres so you can find what you like,” you suggest, and he agrees to it. truthfully, he doesn’t fully understand how music can be better than movies and shows, but he is curious to find out what makes it so special. 

and special, it is. he doesn’t like every song you play, he realizes, but that’s only natural given how different they are from each other. he finds himself being drawn to the more emotional and moody ones, but he can’t help but enjoy the way you quietly sing and nod along to the more upbeat tunes. 

as you continue to sit together, you begin to fiddle with your hair. you’re scoffing and loosening it for the umpteenth time before you’re about to give up, but beomgyu stops you.

“let me do it,” he says.

“do you know how?” 

“i think i can. i’ve been watching you,” he says simply.

“... okay.” 

you turn your back to him to give him access to your hair and he scoots closer to you. closer than you’ve ever been. his touch on your head is careful as he gently gathers your hair and begins to braid it. you’re not sure how much time passes because he’s actually quite slow, but it’s relaxing all the same. you find yourself softly humming to the tune of the song playing. the lyrics are a little dark, but you follow along in earnest, and beomgyu thinks he finally understands why people like music so much. for moments like this. he tries to soak up every detail he can, from the way the light hits your frame to the melody you hum, and he wishes this moment could last forever.

but you only have so much hair, so the moment does have to end, eventually. he ties up your hair and you pull out your phone camera to admire his handiwork. admittedly, it’s a lot better than anything you could’ve done. it seems that he’s a fast learner.

“this looks perfect! thanks, beoms,” you say warmly. he’s stunned for a second at the nickname.

“beoms?” 

“yeah, like beomgyu. beoms,” you say with a casual shrug, and something in his chest blossoms. “i give all of my friends nicknames.” and something in his chest explodes at the title of “friend��. 

“you do?” he asks excitedly.

“yeah. like, i call soobin ‘soobinie’ or ‘soobie’, sometimes,” you giggle, and the bloom of hope in his chest dies with it. 

“are you two close?” he asks, even though he knows the answer will probably hurt him.

“very. he’s my best friend,” you answer fondly. oh. you’re beomgyu’s best friend — you’re beomgyu’s only friend, and tentatively at that. the idea that the deep connection he feels with you is even deeper with someone else, at least in your eyes, makes him feel sick. do you let soobin play with your hair? do you hum along to songs you’ve shown him while he does it? do you smile at him after he’s finished and compliment him on his skills? probably, probably, probably. the ugly feeling that was previously completely foreign to him now takes its usual place in his chest, and it makes his stomach hurt so much that if he could vomit, his metaphorical dinner would be all over the floor.

“oh,” is all he can say. 

-

days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months, but every time beomgyu awakens, he finds you smiling up at him. this can’t be good for your bank account — he’s quite expensive to rent, after all — but he’s far too afraid to actually bring it up. what if you realize just how much money you’re sinking into him and want to stop renting him? what will he do if you don’t want him anymore? he feels an incomparable sense of dread at the thought. 

he prepares to sit on the couch and watch something, listen to music, or even play a video game with you. you two have gotten into them recently, and he’s discovered that he very much enjoys playing with you, even when you’re yelling at him and demanding that he stop letting you win. he can’t help but grin when he thinks about it. you start playing a song, and you do, indeed, invite him to sit on the couch, but you don’t sit down next to him and start babbling away about your day like you usually would. 

“do you think you could do me a favor?” you ask. 

“what, do you want me to wash your dishes?” he jokes, and you share a laugh before you say your next words, but all laughter and joy is profusely sucked out of him when you say them.

“no, smartass, but can you braid my hair for me? i’m going over to soobin’s tonight, and i want it out of my way.” 

“soobin’s?”

“yeah, it’s been a while since i’ve stayed the night, and he said we’re way past due for it,” you tell him, and the world as beomgyu knows it comes crashing down around him. 

“you’re staying the night with him?” 

“mhm. he’s right, it’s been too long; but don’t worry, i bought a pass so you can play video games online. there’s even a headset so you can talk to people, if you want. maybe you’ll even make some friends,” you say while playfully waggling your eyebrows. beomgyu’s silence is pensive, to say the very least, and you worry that he’s apprehensive of making a friend that isn't you. 

“seriously, you might like it. it’ll be good for you to meet more people, honestly. i’m sure it’s driving you crazy to only have me to talk to,” you jokingly add, but to beomgyu, it’s the worst joke he’s ever heard. no, it does not drive him crazy to only talk to you every day. in fact, even though he’s not conscious during the time you spend away from each other, he thinks, deep down, that he still somehow misses you when you’re apart. and no, he does not think he needs to have anyone but you. you are more than enough for him, so how could you ever think he needs more? again, he is taunted by that same strange and implacable feeling he’s been having ever since he met you, yet he can’t quite put his finger on it, even when he nods and tells you that he’ll try making new friends. 

but as he brushes out your hair and you sing along to the words:

"i’m glad i didn’t die before i met you

but now i don’t care

i could go anywhere with you

and i’d probably be happy"

he finally understands what that feeling is. that warm, all-consuming feeling. that feeling of comfort, safety, and unconditional understanding. that feeling of infinite curiosity about the other person. that feeling of wanting to known and be known in a way so profound it physically aches. 

yes, as he gathers your hair and ever-so-gently twists it in his hands in preparation for you staying the night with a man you clearly prefer over him, the feeling becomes clear as day. love. what he feels for you is love — an emotion he should never be able to even fathom, yet he does. 

and it makes him loathe himself to a degree he never thought he was capable of.

he’s so put off by this sentiment, he almost can’t finish the braid because his hands are shaking so much, but somehow, he finishes, anyway. 

“are you done?” you ask as you fiddle with your hair and look back at him.

“mhm,” he replies. 

“yay! thank you!” you say giddily. 

“you’re welcome,” he mumbles. you’re not stupid, so you notice that something is off about him, but you just assume it’s because he’s nervous about being left alone to make new friends. you feel guilty in a certain sense, but it’ll be good for him to branch out and meet new people, so you tuck the feeling away as best as you can before packing your nightly essentials and getting ready to leave.

“i’ll be back tomorrow morning,” you tell him, and he only nods with his lips pursed, which makes your heart feel sour.

“try not to miss me too much,” you tease, but it doesn’t seem to cheer him up in the slightest. 

“have fun,” he replies weakly, and your previously sour heart now kind of aches, but you have to do this for him. you can't always be beside him for everything, right? besides, it's only for the night.

you open the door to leave, but before you go, you turn back to him and he senses hesitation in you. before he can question it, you’re opening your arms, and his eyes widen when he realizes you’re inviting him in for a hug. you almost regret doing it as soon as you open them for fear of making him uncomfortable, but he embraces you before you have time to process such feelings. on beomgyu’s end, he has always been wary of touch for obvious reasons, but he gravitates towards your open arms like he was meant to be in them.

he rests his chin on the top of your head for a moment and you spend an unknown length of time just standing with your arms wrapped around each other. 

“i’ll miss you,” you admit, and before you can smack yourself for being so dramatic and sentimental over what will ultimately only be one night, you can swear you feel his grip tightening even more around you.

eventually, you break away and look up at him with a smile. you ruffle his hair and promise to see him later, and he answers you with a nod. then, you're leaving and locking the door behind you.

immediately, beomgyu feels a sense of loss he’s never felt before. after all, to experience loss, you must have something worth losing in the first place, and he has never had anything like that. at least, not until you. so he stands at the door for who knows how long, just like a puppy waiting for his owner to get home. 

-

soobin can sense you’re out of it before you even finish crossing through his doorway, and it puts a halt to your typically overdramatic greeting. 

“what’s the matter? are you feeling okay?” he questions concernedly as he pulls you in for a hug. you nod before you break apart from him and walk through the threshold. 

“y-yeah. it’s just, i don’t know, i guess i just feel bad about leaving beomgyu all by himself,” you tell him as you plop down on his couch. 

“the android you’ve been renting?” he asks incredulously. “i’ve been meaning to ask you about that, actually. why’re you renting it so much? i barely even see you anymore. is the sex that good?” 

“you know i don’t use androids like that,” you snap in annoyance, partially because he’s calling beomgyu “it”.

“i know, which is why i’m so confused. why rent it in the first place if you’re not getting anything out of it?” 

you struggle to answer his question. you promised beomgyu you’d keep his secret, but you trust soobin, and you know he won’t judge him, or worse, report him. besides, it’ll be good to have an unbiased third party weigh in on the situation. with this in mind, you tell him about beomgyu, skipping over some of the more personal details. he’s in disbelief at first and actually thinks you’re just fucking with him, but as you tell him more and more about the time you’ve spent together, his smile falls and his face turns serious. 

“so that’s why i feel so guilty about leaving him alone,” you finish with a deep sigh. he’s silent for a few moments before collecting his thoughts.

“god, i can’t believe this is actually happening,” he whispers.

“i know. it’s insane, but it’s true. he’s just so… human. you should've seen the way he looked at me when i told him i was leaving. i don’t think i’ve ever seen anyone look so sad before.” 

“well, you’re right about him needing to make friends,” he says with a nod, and it validates all of your misgivings about leaving him alone. “but don’t you think you should, i don’t know, think about what all of this means?” 

“what do you mean?” you ask, and in that moment, he knows you have no idea about the way beomgyu probably feels about you. he’s not 100% confident in his deductions, but the way you describe how beomgyu acts around you pretty much tells him everything he needs to know. 

“i mean, you basically have a completely sentient creature who relies on you for everything. if he’s as human as you say he is, then he can probably feel everything that we do. right now, i’d guess that he feels like you’re all he knows.” and the sneaking sense of guilt that was previously threatening to creep up on you is now completely overwhelming. you’re all he knows. and you left him all alone to fend for himself and make his own friends. yes, he needs to learn how to make connections, but how could you expect him to know how to do that? it took weeks for him to finally seem comfortable around you, so how could he possibly know how to make them on his own? moreover, even though it's nothing to you, you're his entire world. he must feel like you abandoned him.

“i’ve gotta go,” you mumble.

“what?” he asks. 

“i–i’ve gotta go home,” you repeat as you hurriedly stand up and hug him goodbye. 

“wait! i think you should —” 

“love you, bye!” you shout as you book it out of the doorway. 

-

when you return home, you open the door to see beomgyu listlessly staring at the television screen. when he hears you, he turns to look at you with watery eyes. he looks so lost in this moment, and all of your suspicions are confirmed.

“beoms, i am so sorry,” you tell him as you rush over and throw your arms around him. 

“for what?” he asks with a gulp as he stays in your embrace, shakily wrapping his arms around your waist.

“i’m sorry for leaving you all by yourself. i thought it was just for one night, so it’d be alright, but you don’t have anyone but me right now; and i realize that it’s unfair for me to expect you to meet other people all on your own when you’ve never had to do it before. if you want friends, i’ll help you, okay? i’ll be there with you as you do it,” you tell him, and you feel his body trembling. 

“i-i’m sorry. i know it’s not a big deal, but when you’re not with me, i feel so scared. i… i don’t know how to do anything by myself. i’m s-sorry i need you so much,” he whispers, and your heart breaks. 

“don’t be sorry,” you say gently. “how about this: i’ll join you online and we can talk to people together. then, when you’re ready, you can start hanging out with my friends in person, too, okay? we can keep going until you don’t need me anymore.” beomgyu outwardly agrees, which seems to put you at ease, but there’s just one issue: he’ll always need you.

-

gaming online is actually really fun, but making friends is hard for someone like beomgyu. he’s quiet and a little awkward at first, but after a few nights and with your help, he finally warms up to the people he games with. he gets so comfortable, in fact, that he’s even able to shit talk with them a little. 

“fuckkk, that’s so unfair!” his new friend, kai, wails over the headset. 

“it’s not unfair, you just suck,” beomgyu chuckles, and kai whines again. you laugh at their interaction before kai continues.

“how are you so fucking good at this game? you’ve only been playing for a few nights, and you’re already better than me!” he pouts. 

“i’m just gifted,” beomgyu boasts.

“very true,” you add, and he beams, but kai’s next words throw him off-kilter.

“whatever. stop asking your girlfriend to argue with me — you two make me sick,” he jokes with his signature maniacal laugh, but the two of you are too stunned to laugh along. you look at each other in sheer embarrassment, and you can see beomgyu’s ears turning bright pink beneath his blond hair. you’re not sure why you feel so mortified, but you do. this is beomgyu, for god’s sake. there’s no earthly way you could ever see him in anything other than a purely platonic way, so why does your heart feel uneasy at the notion? while you’re still too stunned to speak, beomgyu tries to pipe up and respond.

“sh-she’s — we’re not, uh —” 

“damn it!” kai yells as his character dies yet again, and any momentum beomgyu previously had to clear up the misunderstanding is killed stone dead in its tracks. 

he turns to look at you unsurely, but the awkward moment seems to have passed for you as you laugh at kai’s character’s death. if only he could be as unfazed.

after kai goes offline, you two decide to quit gaming for the night. you turn to beomgyu nervously, and he immediately knows that you’re going to say something serious. he hopes beyond hope that it’s not about what kai said.

“can i ask you something?” and his heart sinks. oh god, you probably caught onto his feelings. he’s not sure he has the confidence to tell the truth, but how could he lie to you?

“y-yes,” he replies, voice a bit unsteady.

“okay, you can say no if you want, but soobin invited us to a get together he’s having pretty soon. it’s not anything too crazy, so there’ll only be a few of us. i think it’ll be a good start for you. maybe you’ll even make some new friends, you know?” he’s silent at your words just out of sheer shock. he’d definitely missed the mark when guessing your intentions. 

“it’s okay to say no,” you hurriedly add, “but my friends are really nice, and i’d be with you the entire time. even if you don’t talk to anybody, you can talk to me.”

“okay,” he agrees before he can even really think about it. he guesses he’s just relieved that you still don’t know about his feelings, but part of him aches even still. 

“really?” you ask incredulously. “oh my god! i have to tell soobin — he’ll be so excited!” you babble, and his lips curl upwards at how happy you are. he wishes he could always make you happy like this, and it seems that he’d agree to absolutely anything if you were the one asking.

-

work has been especially taxing today, which is nothing new, but you have this insatiable suspicion that something feels… off as you finish up for the day. as you’re about to head out for the night, you wonder what beomgyu will want to do once you get home. maybe he’ll want to play games with kai, or maybe he’ll want to watch a movie with you. maybe he’ll let you cuddle up to him for warmth, which he’s been very willing to do, lately. the unspoken rule that you two will never touch has become blurry for some reason, but you’re pretty touchy with all of your friends, so it only feels like a matter of course to you. 

you’re thinking about all of the potential ways tonight could play out when it hits you: you didn’t reserve beomgyu. you spit out a curse and hurriedly take out your phone to book him, but it’s too late. he’s already assigned to someone for the night. fuck.

when you get home, you’re anxious beyond belief. you haven’t spent a night without beomgyu in months, but more importantly, he hasn’t spent a night without you. you try not to think about how scared he will be when he’s powered on in a stranger’s home. you hope he’s able to just switch back to his initial programming, but somehow, you just know it won’t be that easy. you feel sick with worry when you think about how someone so human will have to involuntarily turn his feelings off and pretend to enjoy something he’s being forced to do — with no compensation, no less. he must think you abandoned him. he must think you don’t care about him. how could you forget to reserve him when he needs you so much? fuck how busy you were with work, his wellbeing should have been your first priority.

so you sit and watch the hours tick by. you try to relax. you try to tell yourself it’s only for one night, and he’s been doing it for years, but something just feels wrong, wrong, wrong. you’re about to try to force yourself to go to sleep so the night ends more quickly when you hear a rapid knocking on your door. it’s strange for someone to call on you so late, indeed, but when you look through your peephole, you see none other than the very boy you’ve been worrying about. 

“beomgyu?” you say incredulously when you swing open the door. immediately, he embraces you, and you feel hot tears streaming down your neck as he nuzzles his face into it. you hold him as best as you can as you rub circles into his back and try to shush his cries.

“it’s okay, i’m here,” you tell him, and he whines. you try to break away to get a good look at him, but he just pulls you in even closer, as if you’re his only lifeline in this world, and in a way, you are.

after his breathing slows and his sobs die out, he reluctantly parts from you, so you hold his hand and lead him to your couch. his eyes are swollen and bloodshot while his nose is a bright pink, but he never once takes his eyes off of you for fear of letting you out of his sight. in his mind, you can’t leave as long as he can see you.

“are you alright?” you tentatively ask, hand still holding his and soothingly caressing it in an attempt to calm him down. he goes to nod before stopping himself and shaking his head in the negative. your eyes soften even more at the action.

“do you want to talk about what happened?” you try, and he nods before clearing his throat.

“i, um, i woke up and i was at this woman’s house. she… she wanted me to get undressed, but i didn’t want to, so she started doing it for me.” you wince at his words, but he’s not finished yet. 

“she kept touching me, and it was so disgusting i just — i just couldn't stand it, so i ran away and came here. i don’t mean to make your life harder, and i won’t ask for you to stay the night with me anymore, but if you could just let me stay here, i promise i’ll learn how to clean or do anything you want. please, just don’t make me —” 

“beomgyu, stop it,” you say softly, but firmly. “you are not making my life harder. you can stay here as much as you want and do whatever you want while you’re here. i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean for this to happen. i was just so busy with work, and by the time i realized it, somebody had already booked you. i promise you that it’ll never happen again, okay? so you don't have to be afraid. i’m not leaving you, and i won’t let anyone hurt you, either.” 

you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone look so relieved before. it looks as though you just saved his life, and to beomgyu, you essentially did. he holds your hand even tighter, as if you’re the only thing keeping him from falling off the face of this planet. 

“wait here, i’ll get you some clothes,” you say gently, but as you go to leave, he holds you even tighter. your eyebrow quirks in a silent question at his actions, and he looks sheepish for a moment before saying his next words.

“c-can we just stay like this for a bit? just for a little while? i’m still scared,” he mumbles, and your heart melts.

“of course. come here,” you beckon, and he falls into your arms and rests his head on your shoulder, breathing your scent in as he tries to imprint this moment into his hardware. you stay like that for a while before you finally convince him to change out of his uncomfortable clothes. he reluctantly lets you go, and his eyes follow you everywhere you walk. 

that night, you stay up later than usual to spend more time with him. he stays glued to your side and ensures that he’s always touching you in some way, which is endearing in a way you can’t seem to put into words. when you’re about to head to bed for the night, you swear you hear him whimper, but he lets you go, anyway. as you lay your head down and get comfortable under the covers, you hear a timid knocking on your door. you call him in, and his gaze shyly flickers between you and the floor. 

“c-can i stay with you tonight? i won’t bother you, i swear. it’s just — i just still feel weird. y-you can say no! i just thought that —”

“come here,” you softly interrupt, and he doesn’t hesitate to listen. he closes the door behind him and shuffles towards you, stopping uncertainly at the edge of the bed in a silent plea for permission to enter it. you feel a weird, warm feeling in your chest when he does it. you scoot over and pat the open space next to you before he gathers enough courage to slide in. you cover him with your blanket, and he stiffly accepts it. you giggle at his awkwardness and cuddle up to him, placing your arms around his waist before thinking better of it. how could you just invade his personal space when he’s clearly traumatized? you go to remove your arms and scoot away before he firmly locks you in place.

“it’s okay,” he whispers, settling himself into your embrace and mindlessly toying with the ends of your hair.

“are you sure?” you ask.

“i’m sure.”

it isn't long before beomgyu hears your breathing slow down, and eventually he hears you begin to snore. he smiles at the sound. he can't really sleep, but he's perfectly content with watching you rest. he continues to play with your hair, and you nuzzle into his touch every so often. he doesn’t want to repeat the events leading up to tonight, but he would do it all over again — any number of times — with a smile on his face if it meant he got to be with you like this again. 

-

the next morning, beomgyu waits for the usual delivery guy from the company to pick him up, but it’s currently way past the usual pickup time. he’s most certainly not complaining, but you don’t seem even remotely fazed by the matter. however, while you’re casually flipping through your streaming catalog literal hours after he’d already be gone, he can’t stop himself from asking:

“um, d-do you know when i’m being picked up?” you pause, and he worries that he may have said the wrong thing before you turn to him.

“do you want to be picked up?” you ask solemnly.

“n-no! of course not. it’s just, you know, i’d usually be gone by now, so i —” 

“do you want to stay here? with me, i mean,” you interrupt.

“i… i do,” he replies with a gulp. usually, that’d be all you get from him, but it feels like the perfect opportunity to be honest about his feelings. “i always want to stay with you, but i know i’m expensive, and i don’t want to be a bother.” he looks ashamed as he admits it, but if he had the courage to look in your eyes, he’d note the fondness that lies within them.

“i told you that you’re not a bother to me. i also told you that you could stay here for as long as you want, remember?” and he does, so he nods. 

“alright. i meant it when i said it last night, and i mean it now. if you want to be here, you can stay for as long as you’d like. you don't have to worry about your owners anymore, i promise.” and he thinks he’s never seen you as serious as you are now. he wonders what you mean before it dawns on him.

“you… did you buy me?” he asks in disbelief.

“y-yeah. i’m sorry, it sounds so gross when i hear it out loud, but that doesn’t mean that i own you or anything. what i really wanted to buy was your freedom, so you can stay as long as you want, but that also means that you can leave whenever you want, too.”

“i’m so sorry,” he says in a hushed, hurried tone. “i know i'm expensive. i’m really sorry.”

“money is not an object to me,�� you dismiss in faux arrogance with a wave of your hand in hopes that it’ll lighten the mood, but beomgyu can’t stop the tears from falling over his waterlines, and you’re afraid your attempt to help him only made him feel more indebted to you. all worry is promptly washed away when you feel him pull you into his arms. 

“thank you,” he just barely breathes out. “i don’t know how i’ll ever pay you back, but i’ll try, i swear.”

“you don’t have to do anything for me, beoms. i should’ve done it a lot sooner, but i’m just a little slow, i guess,” you muse, and he chuckles softly into your neck.

-

sleeping with beomgyu should’ve only happened once, but every night when you say you’re heading to bed, he looks at you with puppy eyes and you find yourself inviting him to come along. each time, he looks so excited that if he had a tail, it would most certainly be wagging. he obediently follows you to your room and settles into the empty space next to you before holding you in his arms as you drift off. he’s even taken to humming the tunes of songs he likes when you struggle to settle down, and his baritone voice lulls you to sleep like a charm every time. he spends his time by just looking at you and trying to reconcile with his new reality. this is real. he gets to spend however many nights he wants next to you, as per your own words. even if you didn’t mean them, he plans to take them seriously. he is perfectly content with spending the rest of his life just sleeping with you, looking at you, being with you. 

-

soobin’s get together is tonight, and you look different than usual. your typical look is very casual, which makes sense because you’re only ever at home when you’re with him, but you are now primped and ready to be seen, and it makes him anxious because you look even more lovable. he knows these people are your friends, so they must’ve seen you dressed up before, but that only makes him all the more uneasy; they know a side of you he is only now seeing, and it makes that same old ugly feeling he's grown so accustomed to sprout in his chest. 

when you arrive at soobin’s place, the first thing you do when soobin swings open the door is jump in his arms like you didn’t just see him a week ago. he spins you around with a dimpled grin that’s so sincere, beomgyu feels emotionally decimated by it. you both giggle as you break apart, and the jealousy beomgyu feels brewing within feels unpacifiable. 

“is this beomgyu?” soobin asks, grin still very much apparent.

“yes! you’re gonna love him,” you answer giddily. 

“it’s nice to meet you,” soobin says warmly while stretching out his hand, which beomgyu awkwardly shakes while he tries to force his lips to curl upwards in what he prays is a believable smile.

“nice to meet you,” he mumbles.

“everyone’s already here, but you’re late as always,” soobin playfully chastises, and you pout in response.

everyone greets you when you walk in, mostly by hugging you and lightheartedly scolding you for not coming out anymore. they’re very clearly bantering with you, but each reproach feels like a knife to beomgyu’s heart. he’s the reason you haven’t seen them in so long. 

clueless to it all, you introduce him as your friend to everyone, which only makes him feel worse, somehow. he is just one friend out of many, meanwhile you’re his entire world. you’re far too caught up in the joy of seeing some of your favorite people after so long to notice his dismay, however.

you lead him to soobin’s couch to have a seat with you and one of your friends, taehyun maybe, offers him a drink, to which he awkwardly declines. you quickly follow up with something to the effect of “he isn’t much of a drinker,” and beomgyu nods in affirmation. you try your best to include beomgyu in conversation, but they’re all talking about people and places he doesn't know. all he knows is you, and the world you two built together seems smaller and smaller with every new topic of conversation. 

he notices that soobin seems to be eyeing him somewhat strangely, though he tries his best to play it off. he could just attribute it to surface level curiosity, but his intuition tells him it’s much deeper than that. is soobin sizing up his competition? maybe so, but there’s not much to see. beomgyu is handsome, and he knows it, but soobin knows a side of you beomgyu has only ever heard stories about. you’ve told him about your friends and the goings on between you and your coworkers, but it pales in comparison to actually meeting them. he makes an internal note to ask even more questions than he usually does the next time you’re telling him about your day. until then, he sits as close to you as humanly possible and clings onto your arm, which is so second nature to you, you don't even notice that he’s doing it. 

soobin, who is usually not the inquisitive type, can’t help but question the dynamic between you and beomgyu. at first, the lingering glances and intimate gestures were innocuous enough to be written off as mere friendliness, but when you whisper something in beomgyu’s ear and he flushes a bright pink, soobin knows he can’t ignore it any longer. he especially can’t ignore it when you turn away from beomgyu and he raises a hand to the ear you just whispered into as if he’s reliving the moment. well, time to test his theory. 

soobin slides into the open cushion next to you and begins excitedly chattering about how pretty you look tonight, and he even takes your braided hair into his hands and twirls it between his fingers.

“your hair looks pretty,” he muses.

“beomgyu did it, actually,” you grin, and soobin glances over to said boy, who is currently glaring daggers at him. the look in beomgyu’s eyes is so intense, he almost wants to back off, but he has to get to the bottom of this. 

“did he? you know, it’s been a while since you stayed over. wanna have a sleepover tonight? you have some clothes here from last time, and we can cuddle, i know you like that,” he says as innocently as he possibly can. 

before you can even reply, beomgyu is slamming his hands on the coffee table. you turn to face him in surprise, and the look on his face is the angriest you’ve ever seen him. his eyes are dark and his nostrils are flared as he heavily breathes. he’s never been angry at all in front of you, actually, so to say you’re taken aback is the understatement of the century. 

“beoms? what’s wrong?” you ask concernedly, completely turning away from soobin. your voice is enough to somewhat placate him, but before he can fully calm down, soobin is saying his next words.

“i’m sure he’s fine. beomgyu, you can find your way home tonight on your own, can’t you?” beomgyu is positively seething at this. before you can question him again, he’s gripping your hand so tightly it’s like it’s the only thing keeping him from drowning, so you excuse the both of you and drag him to the bathroom for some privacy.

“are you alright?” you ask, frantically scanning his figure for some sort of sign of pain or discomfort. 

“i-i’m fine, i just, uh, i don’t feel good,” he says flatly. 

“what’s wrong? is it too much? do we need to go home?” he’s so flustered, he barely registers that you’re calling your house “home”, but he still notices it in spite of everything, and it’s like a balm on his aching heart. 

“y-yeah, can we go home? please?” he pleads, and you hurriedly nod. 

“of course, just let me say bye to everyone before we leave, okay?” and he wants to say no, but he’s as weak as ever in front of you, so he relents.

that doesn’t stop him from gripping your hand, though, as you say goodbye to everyone. you go to give soobin your usual hug, but beomgyu pulls you back to him even more tightly. you write it off as him not feeling well and just wanting to leave as soon as possible, to which you oblige, and before you know it, you two are scurrying out of soobin’s place like there’s something chasing you.

as you’re driving home, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket, but it isn’t until you’re walking through your doorway that you check it. 

soobie: we need to talk. call me as soon as you get home

you’re worried beyond belief at his serious tone, so you tell beomgyu that you’ve got to make a call before ducking into your bedroom. you don’t shut the door behind you, because why would you? 

you quickly call soobin and the line connects after just one ring.

“what’s wrong?” you ask anxiously, and soobin just sighs, which makes you all the more anxious.

“we have to talk about beomgyu.” 

“beomgyu? what about him? is something wrong?” you question.

“yeah, i mean, maybe. this might sound crazy, but i think — i know — he likes you.” you’re stunned silly for just a moment before bursting into laughter.

“likes me? what the hell are you talking about?” you dismiss, and you sense his agitation even through the phone.

“i’m serious. i had a feeling before, but tonight just confirmed it. he likes you.” you’re silent for a moment, just trying to process his words, but once your mind somewhat clears, you can’t help but deny, deny, deny.

“you’re wrong. it’s not like that at all. i’m just the first person who’s ever treated him nicely, and i —” 

“you’re not listening,” he cuts in irritatedly. “he looked like he wanted to skin me alive tonight. how else do you explain that?” 

“soobie,” you sigh. “you’ve got it all wrong. maybe you’re right and maybe he was feeling insecure, but that’s probably because i’m the only person he knows. he most likely just felt like you were stealing my attention away.” 

“you’re always so dense about these things, you know?” he groans. “okay, look, i’m not sure how they came about, but i do know that he has feelings for you. maybe it started out as dependence, i’m not sure, but it’s definitely much more than that now.” 

“that’s impossible,” you snort, actually feeling a bit impatient now. how could he possibly think that your relationship with beomgyu was anything other than platonic? 

“why? because he’s a robot?” oh, that shuts you up. “just think about it. if he were a human, would you still be saying the same thing? like i said before, if he’s as human as you say he is, he can feel the same way we do, and he’s definitely capable of feeling love, too.” you are, again, stunned into silence. suddenly, as if there was a fog that covered your brain before, things that you never really considered become clear to you. the soft touches, the gentleness. sleeping in the same bed and waiting for you to get home. wanting you — needing you — around all the time. the way he plays with your hair. the way he’s so interested in everything you have to say. the clinginess, the dependence. it all makes so much more sense to you. 

“i —” you begin, but you just so happen to glance up and see beomgyu right outside of your doorway… looking absolutely devastated. 

“i’ve gotta go,” you tell soobin as you hang up, not even bothering to say your usual goodbye. 

“beoms, did you hear us?” you ask tentatively, and he flinches a little bit before looking down at the floor and nodding.

you’re unsure of how to navigate this situation from here, but while you’re still trying to figure it out, beomgyu speaks.

“i-i’m so sorry,” he says hurriedly. “i understand if you don’t want me anymore.” 

“w-what? no, i —” 

“i’m just really sorry,” he says, looking as ashamed as a person ever could. “i know it’s wrong, i know it’s disgusting, but i —” 

“beomgyu.” 

“but i can’t help it. i wish i could, but i just can’t; and i understand if you want to return me or whatever, but if you could just —” 

“beomgyu, stop it,”  you interrupt firmly, no room for argument. he stares at you with defeated eyes, and you feel your heart break in two. “i am not disgusted, and i don’t want to return you.” his eyebrows furrow as if he doesn't quite understand, so you continue. 

“your feelings are not disgusting to me, don’t ever say that again, okay? please? it makes me sad,” you plead, and he hesitantly nods. “i think it’s normal, actually. you don’t really know anybody else other than me, so of course you’re confused.” 

“confused?” he asks incredulously, eyes snapping up to meet yours.

“confused,” you nod. “it'll change once you meet more people, i swear.” you try to smile reassuringly, but suddenly, you see tears welling up in beomgyu’s eyes. 

“beoms?” you carefully try.

“i don't need to meet more people. i just need you,” he chokes out. “don't tell me i'm confused because i'm not. i-i'd rather you just say you don't want to be with me than tell me that.” your heart clenches at his words, but he continues. 

“i just want to be with you, no one else,” he tells you desperately. “i can understand if you don't feel the same way, but i can't stand to hear you say i don’t love you, because i do. i really, really do.” and as if you're dissociating, your mind is bombarded by times where he's shown you this exact sentiment. again, you go back to every intimate moment you two have ever shared. it was easy to just chalk it up to his lack of experience, but when he's telling you that's not the case so earnestly, is it truly possible to still believe it’s nothing? after a while, you decide that it most certainly is not. 

the question is: do you feel the same way? you try to put a name to the feelings you have when you’re with him. the trust you have, the understanding. the desire to share everything you know and like with him, no matter how mundane it may seem to others; and consequently, the endearment towards him when you see how eager he is to listen. more than that, the intimacy between you two. how you like waking up to him smiling down at you, and how when something happens, he’s the first one you want to tell, good or bad. how when you listen to new music, you feel excited at the prospect of sharing it with him. 

you realize you want to know more about him, the happy things and even the sad things. why he is the way that he is, why he thinks the way he thinks. the peace you feel when he’s running his fingers through your hair and holding you close when you watch the same film for the dozenth time. you try to picture a world where somebody else rented him. a world in which somebody else got to see him as soon as they wake up or as soon as they get home from a particularly grueling day at work, and you finally understand that you wouldn’t like that at all. but why? you’ve only ever thought of him as a friend, right? so why does it matter to you? 

your eyes focus on beomgyu again, and you notice how utterly defeated he looks. his heart is on full display for you — and you alone — as tears stream freely down his pretty, doll-like face. are these tears just for you? you think so. is it safe to trust that these feelings he has for you are real? you’re not sure, but you want to. still, there’s something stopping you.

“i think… i think i feel the same way,” you admit, and his previously downtrodden appearance immediately lights up with hope. “but we shouldn’t.” and the words are like lead in your mouth. 

“why not?” he asks, clearly distressed. you just gave him an inch, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take a mile. he never in a million years would have thought that you’d ever reciprocate his feelings, so he can’t just let them go so easily.

“i just… it’s just not something that i can —” 

“is it because i’m an android?” he questions, voice teeming with self-loathing. 

“n-no! i mean, we’re just so different,” you tell him, trying to skirt around the topic as best as you possibly can, but he won’t have it.

“whatever it is, i’ll change it. please? i can do anything,” he pleads. 

“it’s not like that. i want to, but we can't. i-i'll get older. i won't look the same — i won't be the same,” and it’s embarrassing as hell to admit it out loud, but you mean it. beomgyu’s urgent gaze softens, and he inches closer to you before he’s standing before you. he reaches out to gently cup your face and tenderly pushes your hair behind your ears.

“and what about me?” 

“what about you?” you scoff, but you don't pull away from his touch, though your eyes do dart away. “you’ll still be you, and i’ll be old and —” 

“what about when my parts start creaking? what about when i don’t remember things like i’m supposed to? you’ll still love me then, right?” he asks, but he already knows, and your eyes snap back to his.

“th-that’s different. you can get repairs. i can’t —” 

“then i won’t. you’ll get old and gray and i’ll get rundown and out-of-date. i don’t care what happens, as long as i’m with you.” you’re silent in the wake of his heavy words, so he quickly continues.

“you told me that when you love somebody, you’d do anything to be with them. you said you always find a way, and i want to find a way to be with you.” your heart simultaneously warms and aches at this sentiment. 

you consider what it would be like to be with him. things would be difficult, yes, but not impossible. maybe you’ll come to regret it someday, but you don’t want to think about that right now. you feel like the luckiest girl in the world when you think of the fact that somebody so beautiful, inside and out, wants to be with you. you don't think you’ve done anything particularly special for him, but he still wants and accepts you for everything that you are and ever will be.

“okay,” you say shakily, and you finally recognize that his hands are still very much cupping your face, fingers lovingly rubbing against your cheeks. he smiles in pure relief at your answer, but he makes no move to break away his hold on you. 

you notice how his gaze flicks between your eyes and your lips, and you decide you'll have mercy on him as you lean up to him and press a chaste kiss on his pouty lips before parting. he’s visibly red at the action, and you grin at how flustered he looks. on beomgyu’s end, he feels another bloom of excitement and swell of hope threatening to overcome him. when he looks at the playfulness in your eyes, he smiles even wider. 

“i love you,” he whispers affectionately.

you pause before you tell him:

“i love you, too, beoms.”

-

that night, beomgyu is even clingier than usual. he sticks like gum to your side. when you head to sleep, he eagerly nestles in your bed and holds his arms wide open. you follow his lead and settle into his warm embrace. he sings you one of his favorite songs you’ve ever shown him. the last words you hear before you sink into sleep are:

“to die by your side

is such a heavenly way to die

to die by your side, well

the pleasure, the privilege is mine”

notes pt. 2: sfw work ends here!

you and beomgyu have been “together” for a few weeks now, so the relationship is still very new. surprisingly or not, things seem more or less the same. you guess you never realized just how intimate you two have always been until you put a label on things. the only tangible differences are that instead of just a mere hug when he greets you, he plants kisses all over your face before finding his ways to your lips. and when you’re watching movies or even just talking, he’ll steal a kiss or two. and when you head to bed, you know you can expect him to catch your lips like a man starved before you sleep. things get heated, sometimes, but they never lead to anything besides labored breaths and promises to calm himself down. you take his hesitancy as him wanting to take it slow and treasure your first time together, and you realize he still may be traumatized from the years he spent as a sexbot. 

you have apologized to him for telling soobin his secret. you let him know your reasoning for telling him, and he accepted your apology quite graciously. honestly? he was never mad, and he tells you that very clearly, but you still feel somewhat guilty even when he says he understands. your guilt is only absolved when he says he’s thankful you told soobin because things may have never changed without his wise input. he says that he’s grateful to soobin for being a voice of reason in the face of your emotional density. you blushed when he told you this, and apologized for being so slow on the uptake, but he just assured you that he wouldn’t have you any other way, which made you love him even more, somehow. 

you’re now about to go to soobin’s again for another get together with your friends. second time’s the charm, you cheekily told him when you brought it up, and he blushed in response. when you two walk through the doorway, everyone cheers. you greet everyone as usual, and beomgyu tries his best to keep his searing jealousy at bay, but his anxiety starts clawing at him as soobin seats himself next to you and asks you how you are. 

you giggle and tell him you’re doing well, and he responds by updating you on his tumultuous work life. beomgyu immediately wonders why you haven’t told soobin about your new relationship. are you embarrassed to be seen with him? it’s not like he doesn’t understand, what with him technically being made out of wires and machinery. of course a human like you wouldn’t want to be seen with a metal man like him. you could have the entire world in your hands if you wanted, so what’s the point of playing pretend with a fake like him? maybe, if he were you, he’d be embarrassed, too. he likes to think that maybe you aren’t like that, but at the end of the day, how could you not be? he’s nothing more than a robot masquerading as the real thing. 

his anxiety worsens the more in depth your conversation with soobin gets. you try to include him by briefly giving him context about the stories soobin tells, but he can’t stop himself from worrying. again, he feels like soobin is stealing you away from him, and his mood sours. 

your other friends try to talk to him, too, but he’s very obviously in a bad mood as he watches you two continue to laugh together. when you finally do turn to beomgyu, you immediately notice how awful he looks. 

“beoms? are you alright?” you ask gingerly, but beomgyu’s discomfort is not at all placated even at the term of endearment. 

“‘m fine,” he mumbles, and you’re genuinely in shock at his change of attitude. soobin looks very concerned, but he excuses himself to get a drink so you two can work it out, though he has an inkling of an idea of what’s triggering beomgyu. 

“what’s wrong with you?” you ask concernedly, but he shakes his head sulkily.

“do you wanna go home?” you offer, and he immediately nods. you look torn for a second, but when you see how sad he looks, you know you can’t deny him.

you say your goodbyes to your friends and apologize for leaving early, but everyone says they understand. soobin makes you promise to host the next get together, though, to which you happily agree. 

the ride home is mostly silent, but you look over to beomgyu in concern every so often. you grab his hand and squeeze it in a way you hope is comforting, but he doesn’t look any better at all.

when you enter your house, you immediately head to your bedroom, and he follows you in silence. you sit on the bed and pat the space next to you. 

“beoms, what’s the matter?” you ask pleadingly as you grab his hands, and his heart, which was previously aching, is (a little) soothed by your concern. 

“i-it’s nothing,” he answers, but you can tell that he’s lying because of the way he refuses to make eye contact with you. 

“baby, i can’t help you if you won’t tell me what’s wrong,” you say. you’re right, and he knows you’re right, but you’re already doing him the favor of a lifetime just by deigning to be with him. how could he dare to ask for more? he’s ashamed at the thought, but you look so sincere, and he knows in his metaphorical heart that he needs to be able to communicate with you if you two are going to have any shot at a lasting relationship.

“i-i’m just j-jealous,” he sputters. 

“oh, baby, why?” you ask. 

“because i’m not like you,” he admits after a pause. “i already feel like i’m not good enough for you, so seeing you with someone who actually is makes me feel awful.”

“who? soobin?” and you’re absolutely petrified when he sheepishly nods. 

“honey, it’s not like that at all,” you tell him. “we’re just friends, i promise.” 

“but it would be so much easier to be with him. you wouldn’t have to be ashamed about telling everyone you’re with an android,” he argues. 

“beomgyu, i am not ashamed of you. i just wasn’t sure if you felt comfortable with me telling everyone. if you want me to tell them, i’ll happily do it. you’re so good, how could i ever be embarrassed of you?” his eyes soften.

“do you mean it?” he asks, and you nod. 

“do i not show it enough? how much i love you, i mean.” he furiously shakes his head no, but you know it’s a lie. beomgyu himself will admit that he needs more validation than most people, and it’s going to take him a while to ever get over it because of his own issues. that doesn’t mean you can’t try to help him, though, so you brush his cheek with your hands before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. 

“does this make you feel better?” you ask after you pull away, but he still looks somewhat depressed, so you pull him in again before pressing your lips against his. this time, you swipe your tongue on his pout, which makes him gasp. you tease your tongue against his and electricity thrums between you two when you do it. he reciprocates your enthusiasm immediately, and before long, you’re both sucking and teasing each other until you’re out of breath.

you pull away again and rest your forehead against his. 

“better?” you question.

“a little,” he says. “m-maybe a little more?” you grin at his coquettishness, and you go in for another kiss. your tongues tangle, but you don’t stop there. your mouth travels, peppering kisses down his jaw to his sensitive neck. he shivers at the contact when you swipe your tongue over his unmarred skin before lightly sucking. he lets out a broken moan when you do it, and it reverberates throughout your entire body and straight to your core. 

“better?” you ask again.

“m-more,” he pants. 

“anything you want, baby,” you tease before your lips hungrily capture his. one of your hands snakes its way up his shirt, and he gasps when you roll his hardened nipple between your fingers. beomgyu is more sensitive than most people, as is the nature of his model, so every little touch drives him crazy. 

you seem to have noticed this, so when your other hand palms his hardened length through his sweatpants and he almost screams, you have to bite back a giggle. 

“d-don’t tease,” he begs, and you’d do anything for beomgyu, really, but not this time.

you palm him even more harshly and his breath catches in his throat. 

“more?” you ask, and he fervently nods. you oblige, sliding your hand under his waistband and teasing the sensitive skin around his length. your fingers brush against it every so often, and he involuntarily bucks every time you do. 

“c-can i touch you?” he practically implores.

“of course, my love,” you tell him as you remove your devious hands and pull your top off before unclipping your bra. 

his mouth waters when he sees you, and you can see him gulp almost comically as his big hands meet your breasts. he copies your movement from earlier, rolling your sensitive buds between his very clearly experienced fingers. you let out a contented sigh at the action, but you won’t let this be all about you, so your hand sneaks it way back down his pants. this time, you grab his girthy cock and give it a harsh tug. his actions stutter, and you smirk devilishly at how fucked out he is when the fun part hasn’t even begun. 

you pull at his waistband, and he eagerly tugs his pants and boxers off as soon you do it. he even goes as far as to tear his t-shirt off over his head before he pulls your half-naked body flush against his, falling onto the bed as he desperately kisses you for everything that you’re worth. eventually, he situates himself on top of you, rutting his thick, long cock onto your still clothed thigh. you didn’t really get a chance to get a good look at him before, but you’re able to look down at him now, and you realize his dick is gorgeous. just like every other part of him. it stands tall, blushing profusely at the tip and practically weeping precum. it’s a bit hooked, too, no doubt to elicit the most pleasure out of his clients. your pussy is drenched just thinking about how it’ll feel when it’s inside of you.

he almost rips your bottoms off of you and his mouth waters even more at the sight of your pussy, all slick and glistening in anticipation for what’s to come. 

“so gorgeous,” he whispers as he prepares to lay himself between your legs, but you hook them around his waist before he can do so. tonight will be all about him, you’ve decided, so you tug him closer and put one of his pretty nipples in your mouth, swirling your tongue on it and occasionally nipping at the sensitive skin. your other hand continues to tweak the other one before you alternate between the two, causing him to let out a low, guttural groan. 

eventually, he goes in for another kiss, all tongue and teeth and saliva, and you take one of your hands and harshly clench around the base of his throbbing cock. 

“is this what you needed, beoms?” you tease, and he nods pathetically as you tug again, harder this time, and let your hands stroke all the way up to his reddened tip. your thumb glides over his slit, and he’s seeing stars. 

“i don’t know why you’re so jealous of someone else, my love. you’re so perfect,” you praise, and his ears get even redder, somehow, in spite of the situation you’re both in.

“i — nghh — i don’t like when you’re with him,” he pants, in spite of everything you're doing to him. “only want you with me.”

“oh, baby, you have me,” you coo. “always.” and with that, you begin to feverishly jerk him off with one hand while the other returns to his nipple. his hips buck with every movement, and his eyes are screwed shut. you can tell he’s about to come before you completely take your hands off of him. 

“n-no! w-why?” he asks with a crack in his voice, watery eyes shooting open at the sudden action.

“don’t you wanna come in my pussy, instead? it’s warmer and wetter than my hand,” you ask with faux innocence with a tilt of your head, and his previously aggrieved demeanor morphs back into pure lust. 

“that’s what i thought,” you giggle as you grab his length and rub it against your slickness. he groans at the feeling, but you don’t immediately take him in, opting to instead roll your hips up, just barely letting his flared head catch against your entrance. 

“baby, please,” he whines, and with a smirk, you finally wrap your legs around his waist and line him up with your entrance. you just barely take the tip in, easing it into your pussy, before you force him out again. he gasps raggedly at how tight you are, and he’s wound up so much, he feels like he’s on the brink of exploding. he’s about to take matters into his own hands before you guide him back inside of you, and he feels your walls struggling to accommodate him. 

“s-so tight! h-how are you so tight?” he hisses, eyes reddened and face strained, but you’re far too busy with the euphoric feeling of him finally inside of you to reply. he eases in inch after throbbing inch, and it is a snug fit, indeed. he almost wonders if he’ll even fit, but though the stretch burns you, the pleasure is too great to ignore. finally, your walls slightly relax, and he’s able to completely sheath himself in you. you both moan as his tip pulsates against your cervix, and he considerately gives you time to adjust, walls contracting wildly around him, before he attempts to pull out and really begin. 

“stop,” you command before he can do so, and his eyes fill with worry at your words. 

“w-what’s wrong?” he stutters. 

“oh, nothing,” you say between pants. “i just want to see how long you can last.” 

“w-what do you —”

and you interrupt him with a kiss. he ravenously reciprocates it, and he can’t help but unconsciously thrust his hips, tapping deliciously on the deepest parts of you, but you prevent him from ever fully pulling out. you tangle one of your hands through his hair and grip it — not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him groan into your mouth. 

“c-can i move?” he pleads, but you shake your head no. 

“why?” he whimpers, but you just smirk as you kiss him again and bite his bottom lip. 

he doesn’t know how long you two stay like that, but it’s far too long for his liking. he feels his dick swell, and you still refuse to let him move, but you teasingly scrape your fingers against his balls and it’s all he can do not to come. 

“p-please let me move, it hurts,” he cries, tears now flowing from his eyes. for once, sex is all about beomgyu and what feels good to him. he could cry just from the sentiment alone, but his current tears are the direct result of how you’re teasing him.

“and where does it hurt, baby? use your words, i know you can.” 

“h-hurts, my c-cock hurts,” he sputters out. 

“and would pounding my pussy make you feel better?” you goad, and he whines even louder at the imagery. 

“y-yes,” he sobs, and you smile as you say your next words.

“such a good boy. you can move.” and that’s all it takes, really, before he’s pulling out despite your cunt’s attempts to suck him back in, and ramming himself back inside of you again and again.

the curve of his cock hits places previously untouched, and your walls spasm around him at the sensation.

“does it feel good, beoms?” 

“s-so good,” he mumbles as drool pools off of his tongue and out of his mouth, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “so warm and t-tight.” you clench against your will at his filthy words, and it makes a strangled cry leave his throat. 

“pussy so good, baby. your pussy is the b-best,” he babbles, and your lips meet his again before your mouth travels down, sucking a blooming hickey onto his neck. he trembles at the pain that comes with the pleasure, but somehow, he still has the presence of mind to roll his skilled fingers against your clit. just a few touches, and you already feel your orgasm approaching. he can feel every spasm of yours, and it makes his dick twitch inside of you as he wildly fucks you open. 

he’s drilling into you so hard, you have to dig your fingernails into the skin of his back to keep yourself grounded. with each thrust, you feel more and more like you’re about to burst. 

“gonna come!” you whine. 

“do it, baby. c-come all over my cock,” he pleads.

“come inside? want it so bad,” you mewl.

“of course, my angel. a-anything for you,” he tells you as he tenderly brushes your hair out of your sweaty face, and he hammers himself into you at an inhuman pace as you feel the pressure in you crescendo into a searing hot orgasm. you clench even tighter around him while you come, gripping him so forcefully he can barely pull out, so his thrusts become sloppy and uncoordinated before he rams himself into you one last time and paints your inner walls with his cum.

you two stay like that for a while, just panting and basking in the feeling of closeness you feel. he presses a kiss on your forehead as he relaxes his arms and lays on top of you. you giggle at the intimacy and he finds himself sharing your laughter, your joy. 

“you’re so beautiful,” he says between breaths, nuzzling his face into your neck and sighing. “i love you.”

“i love you, too, beoms,” you tell him, and you do love him. unconditionally.

notes pt. 3: :,) :,) :,)))))) i'm very sorry if this was disappointing but i hope it was worth it! i would love to hear your thoughts or answer any questions you may have about this fic/universe. feedback is needed to a disgusting degree bc i need validation to survive #sorry

[taglist]

permanent (sfw/[n]sfw): @my313 @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @midwinterblizzard @everythingvirgoes @sooberryworld @20-cms @inkigayocamman @hyueika @boba-beom @vicurious28 @blossommi @lickingan0rchid @katsukis1wife @binniebakery @notevenheretbh1 @shymexican @that1sadgrl @archoive @paegesoobin @buttercreamerie @ifwtxt @softesyoongi @serenityism00 @fairfootedflekk @kyanmeai @definitelynotherr @hyunj00 @taehyunluvrs @m00gyu @denleave1088 @hwanghyunjinismybae @bmo-bri

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[sweets3rial]

Camgirl Fantasies !

Kinktober Oct 6 !

re2!leon x camgirl!reader

summary: he's a lonely man and finds warm comfort in the girl on his computer screen. the girl with pretty pink lips and sweet sugary moans. 

tags: camgirl reader, virtual/phone sex, mutual masturbation, smut, some fluff, leon is pathetic, depictions of lingerie, rough sex, gentle sex, creampie, etc.

word count: 5.2K

be sure to check out my kinktober masterlist to see what's coming up in the future ;D!

‘you look beautiful as always,’

“thank you, Scott,” she chuckled, drawing circles on her bare thigh. Scott sat up in his chair, straightening his back, and his fingertips hovered over his keyboard. he gulped a lump down his throat as he began typing. thousands of people flooded in, sending her dozens of compliments and gifts.

she was trying to read out and thank every single one of them which is why he typed out:

‘i love your necklace :), it suits you,’ in a hurry, hoping it would capture her attention.

she was too busy replying to other comments they were all comments about her gorgeous body, breasts clad in a lacy black bra, and her cunt hidden away with matching panties. Scott watched her carefully as she adjusted her position in front of the camera, curling her hair around her finger and smiling brightly at the camera.

“oh my necklace,” she giggled, reaching up for the necklace hanging between her breasts. it was a simple red pendant and it went exceptionally well with the red tint on her lips and cheeks. “thank you, Scott, you’re such a sweetheart,” she cooed.

he’s been addicted to her…addicted to you. he was lonely, pathetically so. he’s been so busy with work and unbelievably pent up. starting a new job is never easy, everyone loves fresh meat, and they love chewing fresh meat to the bone.

coming home from a stressful day at work, his muscles were taut, and he was frustrated with his coworkers, with his boss, and with the stupid speeders on the highway who could read him like a book — taking off as soon as they find out, he’s just a naive rookie.

he’s jealous of his coworkers who are married or engaged; they have a partner to return home to. a partner who can rub their sore shoulders and kiss their lips to welcome them home. what welcomes him home is an eery silence and the creaking of his ceiling fan.

but he wasn’t lonely anymore. he found you. after a long day at work, he needed some way to relax, some way to get rid of all this pent-up frustration and anger. what’s better than a quick cum? or so he thought.

whilst scrolling through a random porn site, he found himself even more frustrated trying to find the right video to watch. everything looked so fake; the pleasure, the passion, the moans, the bodies … it was all just so fake.

and before he could give up, he found you.

this specific website was advertising the website they created specifically for cam girls, or women who go live, pleasing themselves, pleasing the men watching them with solely their voice, or just sitting there looking pretty for the camera.

you captured his attention instantly. every night you went live, you’d have on a pretty set of lingerie and then sit on the edge of your bed. you never showed your face, only your lips and you’d tease your audience, playing with the hem of your panties tauntingly, toying with the straps of your bra — always so nervous to touch yourself on camera, and that only added to the experience.

he was one of the few viewers who sent kind gifts and messages that warmed your heart. he enjoyed seeing your face light up when his message would be read aloud to you and the way you’d read out his username with a small laugh.

he was slowly starting to become your favorite viewer. it’s like he saw you as a person rather than just entertainment for his hard dick. though, you were pretty sure he was just another creep wanting praise and compliments from you.

he was probably a balding old man with a wife and kids like most of the men in your chatroom. but is it still wrong that you look forward to his small compliments and cute smiley faces? streaming was easy money. actually. men are easy. they don’t need to see a nude body and a pretty face to get off, just a woman’s existence could get them off.

which is why it was so easy to make money dressing prettily and playing with yourself for the camera.

Scott was one of your biggest donors, and there have been times when he’s been the only one in the chat sending you messages. he’d ask you about your day or compliment your new set of lingerie and how the color looked good on your skin.

he once took notice of the jazz in the background. even though he isn’t much of a jazz fan himself, he still acted like it solely for your attention. now, every time he hears jazz, it reminds him of you. the image of your plump lips and curvy body flashes into his mind and he finds himself thinking, ‘i can’t wait to get home.’

it’s pathetic, really. he’s found a comforting company in a random woman who was probably miles or even states away. he’s tried going on dates with other women, trying to cure his loneliness but something inside of him can’t deny that there was something between you and him — an unspoken relationship. he was your delusional fan and you were his idol.

he hasn’t missed a single one of your streams. most viewers would get bored of you and stop tuning in, but not him. he was the sweetest, always saying hello, always wishing you goodnight, and thanking you for the entertainment you provided. you would be lying if his messages didn’t make you blush a little.

so after a few weeks or so, you sent him a private message.

‘hi Scott, you’ve been tuning in for a while, and i wanted to thank you. if it doesn’t bother you, why don’t we call? just you and me, one on one. XOXO’

it shocked him when you messaged him privately. asking if he’d like to meet you on a private call, just you and him, no one else. he almost dropped his phone upon receiving the message. he knew it couldn’t be real, that this was some scam and someone was using your name to out him.

but here you are. your hair was tied up, showing off your neck and shoulders. you wore a set of white lingerie. lace trimming and sheer fabric. he could see that you were nervous, too, idly playing with the bow on your panties or your earlobe. a cute habit that you had.

“hi,” you smiled at him, straightening your posture. he did the same, sitting up straight with his sweaty palms rubbing at his joggers.

“hi,” he smiled back.

“i just want to say thank you, i mean for supporting me,” you shrugged, nervously playing with the small bow on your white panties.

“of course! i mean, it’s the least i can do,” fuck. he was so hard it was starting to hurt. his abdomen was burning, and he felt lightheaded, all his blood was rushing to his jumping cock. you were a stranger but in his own twisted fantasy, you knew each other on a much deeper level.

that you were his partner waiting at home. welcoming him home with sweet words and kisses, massaging his shoulders while praising him for how hard he worked today.

“i’m glad that i finally get to talk to you…one-on-one,” you smiled prettily, placing your hands on your knees and leaning forward. this new position gave him a view of your plump breasts. his eyes shot from your lips to your buxom and then back up to your lips.

“yeah,” he replied with a shaky breath.

“Scott, right?” you asked, tilting your head to the side.

“no, no, that’s an alias,” he admitted with a breathy chuckle.

“oh okay,” you hummed, “if you don’t mind me asking, what’s your real name?”

he gulped down a lump in his throat, bouncing his leg nervously, “it’s Leon,”

you leaned back, “Leon,” you said in almost a whisper as if you were letting the name sink into your memory. Leon was the name of the faceless man who’s been making your heart skip a beat. it’s silly really, receiving gifts and kind words from a man you didn’t even know would make you so excited to stream.

“what do you look like, Leon?” Leon had his camera off, too nervous to turn it on. what if you aren’t attracted to him? what if he isn’t your type?

“what do you think i look like?” he answered your question with a question. his nerves somewhat subsided, who knew you were so easy to talk to? and who knew you were so curious about him? here he thought it was a simple thank you call, but you care to know what his name is and what he looks like.

he would be lying if that didn’t excite him a little.

you brought your finger up to your chin, thinking to yourself for a moment.

“brown hair, green eyes or brown eyes, and a handsome smile,”

he chuckled deeply, “so close yet so far,”

“damn,” you said with a click of your tongue.

“why is that your type? brown hair, green eyes, and a handsome smile,”

you shrugged, leaning back a little from the camera and crossing your legs over one another, “i don’t particularly have a type but i do like handsome smiles, but let me guess again, are you a balding forty-year-old man with a big mean wife and spoiled teenage kids?” you rambled out.

“ha! god no!” he exclaimed, a low laugh reverberating from low in his chest. funny too?

“then why don’t you show me?”

his heart stopped. his blood ran cold, and his breath hitched. “what?”

“why don’t you show me what you look like?”

you must’ve noticed his silence and hesitation because you followed up your question with,

“if you show your face, i will too. i’ll show you everything, Leon. so please, let me see your face, i want to see you,” you were practically begging, a small whine in your voice only amplifying your desperate need.

he sucked in a shaky breath, carding his fingers through his blonde hair a few times before nodding his head, “okay, but don’t be too disappointed,”

he reached forward, moving his mouse toward the small camera icon. then with a simple click, his face was revealed. the camera took a second to adjust to the lighting in his room before finally focusing on his face.

your lips dropped agape as his face popped up onto your screen. you were very wrong. he wasn’t a lonely old man with brown hair and green eyes. he was a young blond man with gorgeous blue eyes, plump lips, and the cutest chin she’d ever seen.

he looks like he was straight out of a movie, one of those teenage romcoms. he had a certain boy charm to him. his shoulders were wide, and you could see the outline of his muscles through the simple grey t-shirt he had on. he was nervously playing with the strings of his joggers and he was hiding his face. cute.

“you aren’t saying anything,” he laughed nervously.

“Leon,” you finally have a face to the name. you reached up for your camera, adjusting it upwards so it showed your face and not just your lips. Leon watched curiously as you sat back down on your bed and fuck he wasn’t disappointed.

the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. doe eyes staring back at him, long lashes fluttering, and a light blush on your cheeks. your cheeks rounded as your lips lifted into a smile. you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “now look who’s quiet,”

it makes sense that your beautiful voice matched your face. he was so special. being the first one, out of so many men who watched you, to see your face and to hear your voice say his name. you chose him.

“i’m sorry, you’re just breathtaking,” he replied, still leering at you but not in a creepy way. rather, in a way where he was taking every feature of your face into intricate detail.

“i could say the same for you, Leon. if i’m being honest, i thought you were another sweet-talking forty-year-old man,”

he laughed at your comment, “is that so?”

you nodded your head, tilting your head to the side again, “at least i was right about one thing,”

“and what was that?” he hummed curiously.

“you have a handsome smile,”

fuck, he needed you so bad. your chemistry was undeniable, and the tension in the air was thick. he wanted to kiss you so badly, suck off the pink gloss on your lips until they bruised. he wanted to taste the sweetness of your skin, run his fingers over your curves, and sink his fingers into the plump skin of your thighs. he wanted to touch you and whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

your eyes followed his every movement like a curious cat. “tell me what you want, Leon,” your tone of voice switched, thick and lustrous. he adjusted his hips, licking over the dry skin of his lips.

“you,” he admitted.

“what of me?”

“everything,” he said in a breathless plea, “i need to see you, to hear you, to touch you,”

you nodded, reaching up for the strap of your bra, and slowly, you dragged it down your shoulder and then proceeded to do the same with the other. Leon palmed at his throbbing cock through his joggers, watching your movements with blown-out pupils.

“what do you want to do to me, Leon?” each time his name slipped past your lips, it was like a rush of serotonin through his veins. a warmth that numbs every one of his senses and blurs the world around him, right now it’s just you and him.

“i want to kiss you,” he heaved, “i want to kiss you slowly,”

“mhmm,” you hummed, reaching for the hook of your bra at the front.

“oh fuck,” he moaned to himself, watching as your bra dropped into your lap. the prettiest breasts he’s ever seen, nipples pebbled by the cold air, and smooth skin glistening in the light from your lamp. you reached up, taking one into the palm of your hand, and gave it a small squeeze.

“tell me more,” heat rushed through you, and directly to your swollen clit, you clenched your thighs together wanting some relief. his voice was like music to your ears, slowly putting you into a trance. you could feel each small groan he let out, it vibrated in your chest and shook your core. you closed your eyes as you imagined his weight on top of her, and he was whispering into your ears.

“i’d undress you slowly, kissing the new areas of skin revealed to me,” he reached into his boxers, gripping the base of his cock with a small grunt. he gripped the arm of his chair, watching as you leaned away, throwing your head back as you continued to fondle your breasts and pinch at your nipples.

“i’d make my way down your navel and take off your pretty panties slowly,”

“mhmm,” he was such a pretty talker. he was the type of man to make a woman swoon. he knew what to say and what to do. he’s a dangerous and charming man, and you’re a liar because you have a type: dangerous and charming men.

he began to slowly stroke the length of his cock, the heartbeat in his chest matching the pulsating of his dick. he watched intently as your fingers moved down your navel, you was matching the actions in his words. your eyes were still shut as you imagined it all playing out in your head and god you could feel it. you could feel him.

“but i won’t touch you,” his words vibrated deep in his chest, and a weak breath left his mouth as he pressed his thumb into the tip of his cock. “i’d watch you just like i am now,”

if you were with him now, he would take his time with you. slowly and gently destroy you. he’d revel in the way you’d fall apart piece by piece as he brought you higher and higher. then he’d piece you back together. kissing your sweaty cheeks and coaxing you with gentle words.

“please,” he could hear you whisper out.

“touch yourself for me, i want you to feel good,” you looked back at him with a drunken gaze, your cheeks were hot, and your chest was heaving up and down. he watched as you spread your legs for him, propping up your heels at the edge of your bed.

he could see the wet stain in the gusset of your white panties, fuck you were dripping and just over a few words. there was a slight tremble in your legs as your fingers inched closer and closer to your throbbing clit. it was hot, it was so hot.

your entire body ached. you needed something more. you needed him.

you needed to feel the stretch of his cock, the weight of his hips pounding into you, and his tip slamming into your cervix. you needed his lips on yours; you needed to taste him, the salty sweat that dripped from his hairline and the sweetness of his tongue.

you rubbed at your pantie-clad clit, electricity ran through you, and a small moan elicited from your mouth. “Leon,” you whined, begging him to continue talking.

“look how wet you are,” he chuckled, bemused. he freed his cock from his boxers, stroking it slowly to your rhythm. your eyes flickered from his face and down to his lap, and the ache in your core only grew more. he was big, thick with veins running up to his pretty pink tip. he was curved upwards and his balls were taut.

you could just imagine what he’d feel like inside of you.

“fuck,” you clenched around nothing, rutting your hips up into your fingers. you’ve never been so turned on in your life.

“fuck yourself, baby, let me see you,” he groaned out, squeezing the base of his cock even harder. you were quick to abide by his wishes, watching his visage closely as you pulled your panties to the side, revealing the dripping heat that had been aching for him all this time.

he gulped upon seeing you, running his thumb over the tip of cock; precum was dripping all over his hand. god, he felt pathetic. just upon seeing your pretty pussy, he’s going to cum. he’s so close but he wants to make this last. he wants you to finish first. he wants to hear you, to see you, to watch you.

you dragged your two fingers through your trembling folds, biting down on your lower lip and squeezing your eyes shut. “so pretty, look at you,” he cooed.

the most lewd noises filled your room, the sound of your squelching cunt and your small moans and the wet faps of his cock and his heavy breaths. you slowly dipped your middle finger into your clenching hole and the subtle stretch and drag of your finger against your trembling walls had you reeling. but it wasn’t enough.

“follow my lead, baby,” he heaved out. you peeled open your eyes, looking at him. you watched him closely, matching the strokes of your finger to the strokes of his cock.

“oh my god,” you moaned out, dipping another finger into your cunt. the stretch only burned a little bit, but you knew it wouldn’t compare to the stretch of his girth. your breathing picked up, and you were focused on his voice and the movements of his fist.

he was so pretty. his lips wet with his saliva and red from biting down on them with his teeth. his pale cheeks were dusted over with a pink tint, and the pupils of his blue eyes were blown out. he looked crazed, his hair a sweaty mess, his lips agape, his muscles taut from trying to hold back from coming undone.

how beautiful he’d look in between your legs. that smooth tongue flicking at your clit and plunging into your dripping hole over and over.

“faster baby, fuck yourself faster, make yourself feel good,”

“Leon,” you dragged out, plunging your fingers into your cunt faster and faster. your eyes rolled into the back of your head, and you arched your back into the air, “fuck,” you whined weakly. you clamped your legs shut, overwhelmed by the pleasure that was until you heard a tut of his tongue.

“nuh uh, don’t hide from me, baby,”

“it’s too much,”

“you can do it,” he urged, watching as you slowly spread your legs for him again. there was a sheen layer of sweat on your skin, glistening in the warm orange-red lights. your thighs were trembling, a layer of your sticky essence coating your inner thighs and your plump lips — not the ones on your face.

your hair was coming loose from how you tied it back, how beautiful you looked all disheveled and messy just for him. your other hand gripped at the sheets beneath you, twirling the fabric in your fist — tugging at it helplessly as you continued to moan out his name like a martyr.

each curl of your fingers sent electricity through every nerve of your body, sending it up to your brain until you were ultimately a mess.

“Leon, I-“ you choked on your own words as the apple of your palm came in contact with your clit.

“i know, sweetheart,” he breathed, tightening his grip on his pulsating cock. fuck, he was leaking so much. he knew he was going to cum soon, his balls were so heavy, slapping against his fist with each stroke and he was lightheaded.

he watched as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your back arched, and your cunt clenched around your fingers. a throaty moan left your lips as you came undone around your fingers. Leon wasn’t too far behind as his name left your lips in a weak whine. his muscles went taut, and a pathetic moan spilled from his swollen lips.

hot ropes of cum erupted from the tip of his cock and onto his joggers and fist. the grip he had on the arm of his chair was tight, but as his high came down, he was finally able to relax back into his seat. you were laid back on your bed; your thighs were still trembling, and your fingers were still between your legs, slowly circling your clit.

there was a small silence between them, a comfortable silence.

“that was…really good,” he sighed, running his palm across his forehead, wiping away the sweat. you chuckled, reaching behind your for your silk robe. an apricot-colored robe that matched the color of your lingerie that was now discarded somewhere in the room.

she pulled the robe over your shoulders, “i enjoyed that,”

you did more than just enjoy that. it was the best fucking orgasm of your life.

“i did, too,” he smiled. you sat back up, adjusting your appearance, tucking strands of hair behind your ear, and wiping the smudged mascara beneath your eyes.

“i meant it when i said you’re beautiful,” he spoke up.

“thank you, Leon,” you said, laughing nervously. you avoided eye contact with him as you rubbed at your thighs; your heart was still pounding in your chest, and that same feeling you were getting earlier was starting to come back.

“i don’t want this to be the last time i see you,” you admitted timidly.

Leon was taken aback by your sudden confession, did you mean like this? through a computer screen. or in real life? even with all these questions, he didn’t deny the buzz that pulsated through him. the raw excitement. it was like he was in high school all over again like his crush had just asked him out on a date.

“me too,” he gulped. you sat up a little bit, unable to hide the smile on your lips.

and it sure wasn’t.

“fuck!” your nails dragged down the skin of his back, and your other fingers were tangled in the strands of his blond hair. one of his hands gripped the headboard while the other had a vice grip on your hip. he was focused on the joining of your hips, how his cock pounded into your pretty cunt over and over again and the way with each thrust a deep moan was punched out of you.

“it’s so good,” you drawled out, leaning your head back into his pillow. he bent down, placing a kiss over your wet eyes. how many rounds have you gone? 2? 3? who knows, all he knows is that he’s caught in this loop. you’d fuck and then lay in each other's arms for a few hours, then fuck again, then relax, then fuck.

the drag of his curved tip was driving you crazy; he was stretching you so perfectly; it was all so overwhelming, yet you still craved more.

“so beautiful,” he bellowed through clenched teeth, “so fucking good,” your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him even closer and forcing him even deeper. both of you sucked in a gasp at this new feeling, his thrusts faltering at the way your cunt fluttered around his pulsating cock.

“fuck, baby,” he chuckled amusingly. he ground his hips into your slowly, nudging his tip against your cervix. each shallow thrust had your fingertips itching and your toes curling; it was so good, and it was even better because you’d been waiting for this.

you’ve been craving this. his weight on top of you, the smell of his cologne, the stretch of his girth, the feeling of his fingertips, the weight of his voice in the shell of your ear, and the taste of his plump lips. he dug one of his arms beneath the arch of your back, holding you close to him as he continued to grind into you.

“oh my fuck!” this new angle elicited another gasp from your swollen pink lips; the drag of his tip only got better, and he felt bigger. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into the crook of his neck where you could muffle your pathetic moans and calls of his name.

“fuck, you’re so tight,” he cursed. his fingertips sunk into your back, and his lips found your shoulder.

“i’m gonna cum,” you cried out. he continued thrusting into you at the same pace, taking his other hand and slipping it between their sweaty bodies. his calloused fingers found your swollen clit and he began rubbing in small circles.

a shuddering breath left your mouth, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. you arched up further into him, begging him not to stop but also pleading that it was too much. your nails dug into his skin further, causing him to wince. it hurt, but it hurt so good.

when he looked at himself in the mirror, he could see the red lines all down his back and the multiple hickeys and bite marks littering his neck. you were the same; he had marked your body up and a sense of pride filled him as he looked down to see what he’s done.

red and purple bruises between your thighs from him nipping at your skin, hickeys all over your neck and breasts, bruises forming on your hips from the grip he’s had on her. red and purple marks decorated your beautiful skin; there was nothing you could want more than that.

getting lost in dirty sex and pleasure. rough and gentle. fast and slow.

you clenched down around him, burying your face deep into his neck, and with a loud cry of his name, you came undone around him. your release trickling down and staining the inside of your thighs and the front of his.

you locked your ankles around his waist, keeping him sheathed inside of you. “wait, baby-“

“i need it inside, Leon, i want to feel it,”

fuck.

he couldn’t say no. they both discussed safety before meeting each other. you were on the pill, and he had enough condoms, at least, he thought so. it wasn’t long until you ran out. two people lost in a forest of lust, blinded by pleasure and deafened by passion.

one last thrust, and his muscles went taut, his heavy balls clenched, and the hand between their bodies went to grip your thigh. chills ran through you as his hot cum flooded your cunt, you could feel every pulse of his cock and every heavy breath he let go.

just knowing that he finished inside of you enough to have your aching all over again.

he collapsed, wrapping his arms around her, and brought you along with him as he laid down. your eyes were already shut, your brain suddenly aware of the aching pain in your muscles and the pulsating of your skin.

his heart was still pounding and he lay in silence listening to it. he could feel sleep taking over him but he didn’t want to close his eyes. he was afraid that this was all a dream, all a part of his fantasy. he was afraid you’d disappear from his grip and he’d wake up to you two being strangers across a screen again.

he didn’t want that. if anything, he wanted to stay like this, enjoying passionate sex and continuing to build this newfound relationship with you.

you had driven down from your city to meet him for the first time. he took you out to dinner by the shore, and you two walked along the beach, you had on his jacket, and you two just talked and talked for hours. then in a rush of lust, you ended up in his bed.

he didn’t want this to end.

“why don’t you stay in Racoon City for a few weeks?” he whispered out, half asleep.

“huh?” his question sprung you back awake. “Leon, i brought like barely any clothes with me,”

“I have a washing machine, and my closet is all yours,” he smiled, his eyes halfway open and halfway closed, but he was very aware of what he was saying, and he meant every bit. you sat up, propping yourself onto your elbow, and placed a hand on his chest.

“you’re serious, aren’t you?”

“very,” he nodded.

you couldn’t deny the fact that you really wanted to and even though there were so many reasons to say no, Leon sat above all those reasons. he was the sole reason to say yes.

(divider creds to @saradika ,, photos off of pinterest)

a/n: official welcome to my kinktober yayyy!! sorry guys i'm so late i've been vv busy with school lols, but i hope you enjoyed this. i've never done a kinktober before, and even though i'm not posting a fic for all 31 days, i hope these few i will post this month will suffice. anyways bai bai until next time :3 - V!

notes: if you wanna be on my tag list pls message me or fill out the form below (just to make it easier on me :D)

taglist

tags :

@xoxoloveless @luvrgreyy @ynsvnte @satinwithsilk

@childchomper1 @porcelainseashore @stefoooo @spfoah @chesue00

@daervannafia @puppyina @prettyntxhee @leonkennedygvrl

@altissia-09 @leqonsluv3r @yuiopiklmn @folksriddle @squazmine

@its0214-am @xqlenkdy @belovedcloud

@beafart @admirxation @neverg0nnagivey0uup @fancyyme @marymustdie

@bloodstainedbandaid @jeonmochi99-blog @zizouu23

[agaypanic]

His Good Girl (Carlisle Cullen X Vampire!Wife!Reader Smut)

Kinktober Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Request Something! | AO3

Kinktober Day 3: Praise Kink

Summary: For your one hundredth wedding anniversary, Carlisle takes you to a cabin in the mountains away from your children and the prying eyes of Forks citizens. The days are beautiful, but the nights are far more pleasurable.

A/N: ignore that im posting day 3 on the 23rd…. Im so behind omfg ANYWAYS i know vampires technically cant get hard or probably cum or wtv bc they don’t have bloodflow but this is a kinktober fic so idgaf. i know a thousand years is in twilight soundtrack, but i like the song and think it fits so pretend it/christina perri exists in this universe. Tbh this feels more like a real fic than a kinktober fic (not saying kinktober fics aren’t real fics. I just feel like kinktober stuff really focuses on the sex/kink and i feel like this is more of a fluff that ends in smut)

C/W: oral (fem!receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v sex (they're vampires so they cant get pregnant or diseases but wrap it before you tap it), praise kink, body worship, rough sex

***

“Carlisle, dear, I can pack my own suitcase.” But you did nothing to stop him from meticulously folding your clothes and putting them in your bag. Instead, you sat on the edge of the bed and watched him work. 

Your husband looked up, a smile appearing on his lips. “And yet, you sit and watch me pack it for you.”

“What can I say?” You said with a shrug. “I like watching your skilled hands be put to work.”

“Oh really?” Carlisle seemed to suddenly forget the task he was previously so focused on. He walked over to you, letting the cold hands you loved so much cup your face gently. “Just wait for this weekend. Then you’ll really see how skillful they are.”

You giggle, pulling at his waist and leaning up to kiss him. “I can’t wait.”

It wasn’t long before you were finished loading up the car and ready to leave. Carlisle had to practically drag you away when your goodbyes with the kids went on a little too long. But you couldn’t help it. Not only did you love your children dearly, but you needed to give them all (mainly Emmett and Edward) to behave while you and Carlisle were gone. Although they were tremendously older than their young adult bodies, they sometimes acted just as recklessly as teenagers. 

The drive to the cabin was long and peaceful. Carlisle let you handle the music, and although he kept his eyes on the road, he smiled at the sight of you passionately singing along with every song out of the corner of his eyes. 

You arrived in the afternoon, and your husband insisted on carrying your bags inside for you, allowing you to wander around the cabin you came to for special occasions. It followed a less modern aesthetic, mainly because getting a good internet connection so far from civilization was a little difficult. It reminded you of when you were first married to Carlisle.

“Why don’t you pick out a record?” Carlisle said from the bedroom, raising his voice a little so you could hear him down the hall, despite your enhanced hearing. 

You walked over to the small shelf that was filled to the brim with different genres and eras of music. You opted for something more modern, so you pulled out a Christina Perri vinyl and put it on the player.

The first track was one that you knew all too well, and it seemed Carlisle remembered it just as well when it hit his ears. Deciding that unpacking could wait, he left the bedroom and approached you. When he got close enough to grab you, he started leading you in a slow dance around the living room. And when Christina sang about loving someone for a thousand years, Carlisle kissed you deeply before making a comment about how he couldn’t wait for the thousand-year mark.

***

When your anniversary came the next day, you and Carlisle didn’t do much. Besides being slightly more affectionate than usual and exchanging presents, it seemed like a normal day for you two. But you cherished it like any other day you spent with your husband. 

The only time Carlisle strayed from you today was to go outside and hunt for dinner. He came back in record time with two wine glasses filled with red liquid and a few smudges around his mouth that he let you kiss off. Ushering you to the couch in front of the lit fireplace, he handed you a glass and used his now free hand to hold you close to him.

“To you, my dear.” Carlisle toasted, holding his glass up to you.

“And to you, darling.” You added, clinking his cup with your own. “To a hundred years.”

“And a hundred more.”

Hours had passed without you knowing. You were too wrapped up in Carlisle’s presence, the way he stroked your arm while he listened to you talk about whatever came to your mind. 

Eventually, your glasses were empty, and Carlisle set them on the small table in front of you before cuddling you again. You leaned into his touch, breathing his scent in. “I love your hands.” You muttered against his neck. The hands in question were either holding yours or gently massaging you.

“Oh, yeah?” He smiled, and you nodded. “You wanna see what else they can do?”

It felt like a switch had flipped, and suddenly, you were straddling your husband and kissing him like you’d been starved for a hundred years. He kissed back with the same sentiment, hands roaming and groping your body.

Carlisle broke away the slightest bit to speak. “As much as I’d love to take you right here, why don’t we move to the bedroom?” Without waiting for a response, he stood up, carrying you down the hall like it was nothing. You clung to him, kissing and lightly nipping at his neck.

When he reached the bedroom, Carlisle softly set you on the bed and started kissing you again. He towered over you, caging you in with his limbs.

But kissing, although very enjoyable, wasn’t enough for him. His hands started to roam again, and he began to play with the hem of your shirt. “May I?” He asked against your lips, and you nodded furiously. Carlisle peeled the shirt off of your body, and your bra was off soon after.

Without warning, he broke away from you. You were about to protest when his mouth latched onto your nipple, flicking it with his tongue. You moaned at the sensation, running a hand through his once pristine hair. He made sure to give the same treatment to the other.

“So beautiful.” He muttered, squeezing your tits with his hands and running his cold thumbs over your now stiff nipples. You mewled and arched your back. God, the things this man did to you. “So perfect.”

“Carlisle.” You whined. You couldn’t take anymore waiting, you needed him now. In desperation, you started moving your hips to try and rut against his thigh. He allowed it, giving attention to your breasts a little while longer while you used him to ease your need. But his thigh wasn’t enough. “Carlisle, come on.”

He looked up at you with a caring but mischievous look. “What’s the magic word?”

“Carlisle!”

“Nope.” The man smirked, slowly trailing kisses down your stomach and stopping at the waistband of your pants. “Come on, dear. Where are your manners?”

“Please!” You cried out.

Carlisle swiftly started to unbutton your pants, tugging them down your legs. “There’s my good girl.” The little nickname just made you even wetter. Carlisle took off your panties, leaving you entirely bare for him. He stared down at you, taking in the image. He sighed, seemingly lost in thought. “You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”

Ready to ravage you, Carlisle started to crawl on the bed towards you. But before he could get to the place he wanted most, you put your foot on his chest to stop him. A hand shot up to caress your ankle, and Carlisle started to worry that he was moving too fast for you without realizing it.

“Maybe you should take your clothes off too?” You suggested, giggling at his sigh of relief. Carlisle dropped your foot and stood up again, stripping in front of you. He did so as fast as possible without using superspeed, knowing you were desperate for him but would still enjoy the show.

“Better?”

“Better.”

You sat up, his stiff cock now at your eyeline. You reached out, wanting to grasp it, suck it, whatever he would let you do.

But Carlisle grabbed your wrist. “Now, what do you think you’re doing?” He asked, tone light enough to indicate that he wasn’t upset or serious.

“I want you to enjoy yourself.” You answer with a shrug. “It’s your anniversary too, you know.”

“You want me to enjoy myself?” He asked, gently pushing you until you were lying on your back. You nodded. “Then be a good girl and spread your legs.”

A tingle went down your spine at the command, and you immediately did as told. Carlisle grasped your ankles to keep your legs separated. He stared at your pussy, mouth watering at the thought of tasting you. He inched closer to you, hands running up your legs.

He didn’t waste another second. Carlisle pushed at your thighs to bring them to your chest and dove into your pussy, licking a broad strip through your slit before latching onto your clit. He groaned at the taste of you, sending chilling vibrations through your body. One of his hands splayed out at the back of your knees to keep your legs up, and he used his now free hand to prod at your entrance.

“You’re so wet, honey.” He cooed as he slipped a finger in, soon adding another. Carlisle began fucking you slowly, hooking his fingers on your g-spot and flicking at your clit with his tongue.

“More.” You moaned, squeezing his fingers. “Want your cock, Carlisle.”

Your husband tsked, taking his mouth off of you but continuing his ministrations. “Not til you come on my fingers, Y/n. You know the rules. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You whined, wanting nothing more than to be stretched and filled to the brim by your husband’s cock. But it warmed your cold heart that he was still cautious with you. 

“Then make me come.” You begged.

Carlisle took it as a personal challenge to make you finish as quickly as possible. He usually liked to take his time with you, but you were desperate. So Carlisle quickened his pace, added a third finger, flicked and sucked at your clit, and soon enough you were falling apart. You stiffened and let out a choked moan as Carlisle helped you ride out your high.

While catching your breath, Carlisle withdrew his fingers from you and cleaned your juices off with his tongue. The sound that came from him was almost animalistic. He looked at you as if you were his prey. “You’re so delicious.” He said, licking the remnants of your cum off of his hand. The way he was looking down on you made you even wetter.

Usually, Carlisle liked to start nice and slow, giving you time to adjust to his size before he began ramming into you. But tonight, he couldn’t control himself. He grabbed himself, swiping the tip of his penis through your slick folds to collect more of your juices before prodding your entrance and bottoming out in one swift motion. 

Then he started fucking you.

You were beyond grateful that you were staying in a cabin in the middle of the mountains because if someone were around, they would’ve thought you were being murdered. The headboard banged against the wall with the force Carlisle was using to fuck you. He held onto the backs of your knees, keeping your legs pinned to your chest and giving you shocks of pleasure with every hard thrust.

It was all too much, but in the best way. Carlisle fucking you roughly at an angle that you knew would make it difficult to walk for a while, despite you usually being able to recover from rough sex quickly. With the way Carlisle was acting right now, his panting and almost growling sounds, and his nails digging into your skin, you knew he wouldn’t be satisfied after one round.

“So good.” Carlisle groaned, leaning down to kiss at your neck. You pulled at Carlisle’s hair to try and ground yourself, but you were too far gone with the overwhelming pleasure. “Are you gonna come?”

“Uh-huh.” It came out as a high-pitched squeal, and Carlisle smiled.

“You can do it, honey.” While speaking, he snaked a hand down to rub at your clit, pace as rough and furious as his thrusts. “Want you to come. Be a good girl for me; go ahead.” 

It was like Carlisle had some kind of control over your body. As soon as the words left his mouth, you found your release. It was one of the most intense orgasms you had ever had. You were a bit surprised that you didn’t accidentally pull out Carlisle’s hair from how hard you were gripping the strands.

Carlisle continued fucking you at his rough pace, making you shake and cry out in pleasure. He didn’t stop, seemingly very focused on now reaching his own peak. The way your cunt gripped his cock certainly helped, and not long after you, he was shooting ropes of cum inside you, keeping up his thrusts to fuck it into you.

When he came down from his high, his movements slowed to a stop. He delicately moved your legs off your chest to lay on the bed, massaging any possible sore spots he may have given you.

“Was I too rough?” He asked, seemingly in a clearer headspace now.

You shook your head, reaching up to caress his face. “I liked it.” Carlisle sighed in relief, leaning down to kiss you. “Maybe we can do it again? Like, now?”

He laughed at your eagerness. “How about in five minutes?” He wrapped you up in his arms before flipping you over so you were lying on his chest. His cock was still hard inside you, filling you nicely. “I want to lay with my wife for a while.”

“I won’t argue with that.” You said, snuggling into Carlisle’s bare chest. “Happy anniversary, Carlisle.”

“Happy anniversary, Y/n.”

***

Twilight Taglist: @wedfan2 @natashamaximoff-69 @pink-hufflepuff

[venusbyline]

Pretending ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 25, oct.

(late post)

— pairing: Aaron Hotchner x love affair!reader

— type: smut, Kinktober (Criminal Minds Edition)

— kink: deepthroating

— summary: Hotch is trying to teach you a new blowjob method, but things are not that easy when you are still sexually inexperienced.

— word count: 1.0k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 25th day, female!reader, intern!reader, rough!Hotch (BUT NOT REALLY), soft!Hotch, deepthroating, rough oral sex (male receiving), mild dubcon, degradation, aftercare, accidental orgasm denial, praise kink, curse words, mild verbal humiliation, mild dumbification, corruption kink, cooking, dacryphilia, crying, college student!reader, married!Hotch, age gap (older man/younger woman), BAU member!reader, jealous!Hotch, gagging reflex, sex gone wrong, fluff, inexperienced/innocent!reader, secret relationship, cheating, referenced infidelity, minor Aaron Hotchner x Haley Hotchner, implied Derek Morgan x reader, implied Spencer Reid x reader, bittersweet ending, dom!Hotch, sub! reader, porn with plot. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @thatredlipped-classic @purplehaze206 @ehedrick012110 @hotchsmutrecs @slutcakes00 @emma-e-a @helo1281917

— crossposting: AO3

"Watch your damn teeth, girl. I've already warned you once and you can be sure I won't even warn you if there's a third." Hotch growled as your beautiful eyes filled with tears at the feeling of his cock pushing its way into your mouth.

Your jaw felt like it was going to rip in half, wide enough so that your teeth would not scrape painfully against Hotch's sensitive skin. Your body was lying on your back on the bed, which was quite high and made the position easier for the new experience. Your head tilted back as Hotch was right there, trying to take his length in carefully. He knew it was not a very comfortable position for either of you and it would probably be difficult for you to deepthroating him like that, but he was interested enough to see the shape of his cock highlighted inside your delicate throat.

"F-fuck... Your little mouth's even tighter." His muffled moan echoed through your room when he pushed deeper, taking advantage of the new angle to hit the head of his cock in the back of your throat, causing you to suddenly gag. Your eyes widened and tried to move back down, but Hotch grabbed your neck, keeping you in place and taking the opportunity to squeeze the bulge that became clear as he continued thrusting, fucking your throat. You whimpered around Hotch's cock, filling him with goosebumps from the vibrations your lips made when you tried to explain explain with gestures about how this was already too much. "We've barely even started and you're already acting like a crybaby whore?"

A few minutes passed and every time Hotch was getting close to cumming, you gagged around him and tried to pull out.

"FUCK! What the hell, girl?" When Hotch saw you were starting to sob and cry hopelessly, he growled and pulled his cock out, watching you stand up and start coughing, your lungs thanking the world for the return of air. However, all it took was for your sad eyes to turn to Hotch for him to sigh, putting his black boxers back on and sitting on the bed, pulling you to snuggle into his chest, hearing you crying softly and feeling how your tears soaked his skin during the hug. You could not say anything coherent, but Hotch knew very well that you were feeling bad about not being able to give him a good deepthroat. "It's okay, darling. It's not a big deal, it was just a stupid kink that I wanted to try out with you. I was really so fucking horny and I took it out on you by being rude. I'm so sorry, little girl."

You shook your head, pouting your lips. "I-It's not a stupid kink, Sir. Any men likes deepthroating." You muttered with a frown. He was about to tell you to stop calling him by the name you always used within the BAU, when he was pretending to be just an agent mentoring a dedicated intern, but something caught his attention.

"Yeah? And since when do you know what men really like?" Hotch's husky voice caught you off guard and you looked down with shame. It was obvious that he knew that you had not done anything like this with other guy, after all, he had been the one to take your virginity a few weeks after your arrival at the internship at the BAU.

“Well, the guys at my college talk so much about sex very loud during the class…” It was all you said and he rolled his eyes. Damn it, he hated teenagers with raging hormones and especially frat boys.

Hotch cleared his throat, determined not to let you know he was jealous at the mere thought of your classmates trying to flirt with you on a daily basis. He wanted you in the office at all times, where he could watch you and make sure Morgan was not trying to ask you out or that Reid did not have an arousal every time you brought coffee to everyone's desks. "Anyway, we can try it again another day when you're more comfortable. In another position, maybe."

You smiled at Hotch's suggestion. "I'd love to try again in a few days, Sir... Sorry! Love, just love." You corrected yourself when you saw his frown at the unnecessary formality. Hotch chuckled lightly and got up from the bed, immediately followed by you. "You're leaving right now?" You asked worried, both because he had not cum yet that night and also because he was not even saying goodbye.

"What? Of course not, darling." Hotch defended himself, looking quite offended that you would even consider him to be so careless to you. "I'm gonna sleep here tonight, forgot? So now I'm just gonna make some hot tea to help your sore throat. Then we can watch some pathetic romcom movies and have sex later, but nothing too rough for now."

The teasing in his tone made you smile. Still naked, with your cheeks wet with tears and your lips swollen, you caressed your own neck to soothe the sore throat during the process, watching Hotch wearing only those black boxers and opening your cabinets to look for things to heat up some tea. You would love to see him like this every day, practically naked in your kitchen, looking like the real husband material's definition, cooking and spoiling you as an aftercare. You would love to have him as your boyfriend, as your husband, as the future father of your children... However, you knew that the next morning the lie would have to be maintained. You would have to keep pretending he was just a BAU agent, just your mentor. Hotch would have to keep pretending that he was loyal to his wife and son, and did not care about the cute young intern of the office.

Both of you would have to keep pretending that nothing was happening between you two and that you did not have sex often. Both of you would have to keep pretending you did not love each other.

Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

[mononijikayu]

treasure in the sea — fushiguro toji.

“Okay, then, Toji….” you teased lightly, hoping to ease the heaviness of the moment. “What’s the most complicated thing in your life right now?” He laughed softly, the sound mixing with the crash of the water. “You asking me that, here of all places, doll.” he said, shaking his head as if you had walked right into some unspoken truth. You blinked, suddenly unsure of what to say. “What do you mean?” Toji met your gaze, the teasing spark in his blue–green eyes replaced by something more serious, more real. His voice was low when he spoke, just loud enough for you to hear over the ocean. “You, probably.”

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: not safe for work (nsfw), r-18, angst, fluff, first love, friends to lovers, romance, love, drama, hurt/comfort, break up, college sweethearts, smut, kissing, oral receiving, implied p-i-v sex, sexual intercourse, pining, hurt, happy ending, domestic, loss, death, grief character death, guilt, parenthood, depictions of sexual acts, depiction of pining, depiction of parenthood, depiction of guilt, depiction of grief, depiction of character death, depiction of break up, mention of parting, mention of the past, mention of character death, mention of drug overdose, mention of sexual acts and conducts, dad!toji, mom! reader, son! megumi;

WORD COUNT: 14k words

NOTE: i can't believe that toji finally won a poll and with a massive lead. i loved writing this a lot and this was so exciting to write. this was based on this japanese show called umi no hajimari and i adored the show. everything about this was just so lovely. i feel like toji in canon did love megumi and mamaguro a lot, so i wanted it to translate here no matter what. there is smut here so this is a prelude to the kinktober event that starts on october 4th, 2024. i hope you enjoy that too!!! anyway, i love you all <3

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if you want to, tip! <3

IT WAS LIKE FATE LET THIS HAPPEN. In the bustling crowd of students gathering around tables covered with colorful fliers, you spotted him: Zenin Toji, standing tall and frigid, looking somewhat out of place, his eyes scanning the scene as if he wasn’t quite sure where he wanted to be. 

Meanwhile, you, shorter and bright eyed, were grabbing every flier you could find, from the Art Club to Ultimate Frisbee. It was quite crazy, to see you grab them with a smile on your face over and over in a speed he couldn’t keep up with. Toji noticed your enthusiasm, probably confused by the sheer number of papers you were collecting.

You exchanged a glance, a brief nod and a small smile. But it was clear he wasn’t sure about the whole "college club" thing. He wasn’t even sure about joining school clubs in high school.

He lingered at a few tables, undecided, but eventually, you lost sight of him in the crowd as you moved on to collect more fliers and started mingling with the upperclassmen managing the booths accommodating the freshmen. Toji thought you were a dream, a moment’s notice. And yet, what he didn’t realize is that you were anything but that.

Later that evening, you attended a dinner event hosted for various clubs, a casual mixer where students could gather, chat, and get a feel for different groups on campus. To get used to college life. The room buzzed with laughter and conversation, and tables were spread with club brochures, each one trying to outshine the others to attract new members. 

You had settled at a table near the center, surrounded by people engaged in light conversation, but your thoughts kept drifting. You had collected a few fliers from the clubs you were curious about, but you still felt undecided. Well, they all had mixers in the upcoming days. So, you wanted to judge them by eating at the restaurants they went to. The better the food, the better you feel about the club!

As you chatted politely with a few others, you caught a glimpse of someone familiar out of the corner of your eye. That tall boy with that obnoxious gaze. Zenin Toji, who you'd seen earlier in the day looking equally disinterested, was seated a few tables away. His broad frame slouched back casually, yet something about his presence felt charged. The rest of the room seemed to fade for a moment as he caught your eye. A slow, playful smirk curled on his lips.

Before you could react, Toji stood and approached your table. Without hesitation, he plopped down into the empty seat beside you. "Still hoarding fliers?" he teased, his voice low and amused.

You glanced at the stack of fliers you had gathered, caught off guard by his casual confidence. “I guess I am.” you said with a small smile, half-laughing at his remark, trying to shake off the flustered feeling his sudden closeness brought. His presence seemed to shift the mood, drawing your focus entirely to him, while the rest of the room hummed in the background.

Toji leaned back in his chair, his gaze flicking between you and the fliers, clearly finding humor in your indecision. “Any standouts, or are you just collecting paper at this point?”

The playful banter had a magnetic pull, and despite not knowing much about him, you found yourself leaning into the conversation.

You shifted in your seat, the weight of his presence drawing you in despite the crowded room. “A little of both, I think.” you replied with a smirk, trying to match his easygoing attitude. You glanced at the fliers in your hand, suddenly self-conscious. “I’ve narrowed it down to a few, but… haven’t quite committed.”

Toji chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Commitment issues, huh?”

You shot him a playful glare. “Maybe I just like to weigh my options. I mean, the better the food, the better the shot.”

His smirk widened, and he leaned in slightly, his arm resting on the back of your chair. “Or maybe you’re overthinking it.” he said, his voice dipping lower, more personal. “Sometimes it’s better to just pick something and see what happens.”

The sudden shift in his tone sent a ripple of warmth through you, his casual confidence making it hard to resist the pull of the conversation. He didn’t seem like the type to overthink anything, which was probably why he intrigued you so much. Toji was all instinct and ease, a stark contrast to your careful, measured approach to things.

“Is that what you did?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Just pick a club and see where it takes you?”

Toji glanced around the room, as if he hadn’t really considered joining anything until now. “I haven’t picked anything yet,” he admitted, leaning back again, his arm still casually draped behind you. “Not sure if I will.”

You tilted your head, curiosity getting the better of you. “So why are you here then?”

He shrugged, but there was a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Maybe I was waiting to see what you’d pick.”

The comment caught you off guard, and you felt a faint blush rise to your cheeks. His teasing was effortless, and it disarmed you more than you cared to admit. “Oh, so now I’m the deciding factor?” you asked, trying to deflect with humor, but your heart skipped a beat at the playful challenge in his words.

“Looks like it.” he replied smoothly, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer than necessary. There was something unspoken in the air between you, an electric undercurrent that neither of you acknowledged but both clearly felt. Toji’s laid-back demeanor only heightened the tension, making it hard to look away from him.

Before you could respond, the conversation around the table picked up, a few people asking you about the clubs you’d been considering. You answered politely, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Toji, who remained seated comfortably beside you, like he had no intention of leaving anytime soon.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself more and more aware of his presence—the way he occasionally leaned in to comment on something, his quiet observations that made you laugh, the subtle glances he threw your way. There was an ease to his company that surprised you, like you’d known him longer than just this fleeting encounter.

Eventually, the mixer began winding down, and people started to gather their things, heading out in groups or saying goodbyes. Toji stretched lazily beside you, his smirk still lingering.

“So, have you made up your mind yet?” he asked, glancing at the fliers one last time.

You held them up, looking between him and the colorful pages. “Maybe I’ll just join the one you do.”

Toji raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Now you’re the one following me?”

You shrugged, playing it off, but there was a spark of genuine interest behind your words. “Maybe I just want to see what happens.”

For a second, he looked at you like he was trying to figure you out, then his smirk softened into something more thoughtful. “Guess we’ll both find out, then…doll.” he said, standing up and offering you a hand.

You took it, feeling the warmth of his grip, and as you stood beside him, the energy between you shifted slightly. It wasn’t just playful teasing anymore—there was something real in the air, an unspoken understanding that this chance encounter might be the start of something neither of you had planned.

You stood there for a moment, hand still in his, feeling the weight of the moment linger between you both. Toji's grip was warm, firm but casual, and even as he let go, the imprint of that brief touch stayed with you. He glanced around the room, as if assessing how much time was left before the evening fully wrapped up, then turned back to you with a raised eyebrow.

“So…..” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Since you’re so indecisive about clubs, maybe we should keep in touch. In case you need more advice.”

You caught the playful glint in his eye, but there was an undercurrent of something genuine there too. Without really thinking it through, you reached for your phone. “Yeah, advice. That’s what I need, hm?” you joked, handing him your phone with a smirk.

Toji took it without hesitation, his fingers moving quickly as he typed in his number. He handed it back to you, and you glanced down to see his contact saved simply as Toji. No last name, just that. There was something almost intimate about the simplicity of it. He shot you a lopsided grin.

“Now you can bug me about which club to join, doll.” he teased, but his tone was soft, almost like he was saying more than his words let on.

You saved your number in his phone in return, noticing how natural it felt to exchange numbers with him, like this wasn’t the first time you’d done this. Maybe it was the easy way he carried himself, or the way his smirk softened when he looked at you, but it felt… effortless. You weren’t sure what that meant yet, but you liked it.

As you handed back his phone, you found yourself lingering, caught in the moment between what this was and what it could become. “I’ll hold you to that, you know. The advice.” you said lightly, breaking the tension but not quite dispelling it. Your gaze lingered towards him for a little too long. “You better answer, okay?”

Toji chuckled, his eyes glancing over your face like he was committing it to memory. “Why wouldn’t I?” he snickers back at you. “That means I’ll be hearing from you soon.”

The way he said it wasn’t a question—it was a certainty. Something about the confidence in his words sent a ripple through you. You nodded, feeling a smile tug at your lips as you tried to play it cool. “Maybe sooner than you think.”

He laughed quietly, clearly enjoying this little back-and-forth. “I’ll keep my phone close, then.”

Just as the room started to clear out, Toji took a small step closer, his voice lowering slightly. “See you around… and don’t overthink it. I’ve got a feeling you’re not as indecisive as you make yourself out to be.”

There was something almost intimate in the way he said it, like he saw through your front and into something deeper. Before you could reply, Toji gave you one last smirk, a teasing glance, then turned and walked toward the door, disappearing into the flow of people heading out.

You stood there for a moment, watching him go, your phone still in hand, his number glowing on the screen. The mixer’s noise buzzed in the background, but your mind was elsewhere, still caught on the feeling of that exchange—light and playful on the surface, but weighted with possibility underneath.

As you finally made your way to the exit, you found yourself thinking back on his words, the certainty in them. Maybe you weren’t as undecided as you thought. Or maybe Toji was the push you didn’t realize you needed.

Later, as you stepped into the cool evening air, your phone buzzed in your hand. A message flashed on the screen.

Toji: Already overthinking things?

You smiled to yourself, feeling the warmth of anticipation in your chest. Maybe this was the start of something, after all.

EVERYTHING QUICKLY STARTED FROM THERE. From that night, your friendship with Zenin Toji developed naturally, like you’d always known each other. You quickly fell into a rhythm of hanging out at various club events together, even though Zenin Toji never quite settled on joining any one group. 

He showed up with his usual laid-back grin, fliers still folded in his pocket, but it didn’t matter. The bond you formed over your shared indecision—and the string of free dinners at the events—was enough to keep you together. It was easy, lighthearted, the way you could sit with him at these gatherings and slip into conversation like you were old friends.

Toji was an engineering major, which surprised you at first, given his carefree attitude and lack of outward focus. He rarely talked about school, yet somehow, you could picture him excelling in that structured world of machines, calculations, and practical problems. In contrast, you were a classical music major, your world filled with compositions, performances, and delicate precision. It seemed like a strange match on the surface, but somehow, the two of you worked.

The more time you spent together, the more you realized that Toji had a knack for grounding you in ways you didn’t expect. When you’d get lost in your head, agonizing over pieces of music or second-guessing your choices, Toji had a way of cutting through the noise with his straightforward advice. “Don’t think so hard, doll.” he’d say, almost like it was the simplest thing in the world. And sometimes, it was.

Weeks turned into months, and your connection with him deepened. You found yourself spending more time outside of the club events, drawn together by your shared love for adventure. It became almost a tradition between the two of you.

The spontaneous outings where neither of you planned ahead, just picking up and going somewhere on a whim. Toji had this effortless energy about him that made you want to say yes to everything, even things you wouldn’t normally do. There was something freeing about being around him, like he gave you permission to let go of the structure you were so used to.

One of his favorite places to take you was the sea. You weren’t sure how it had come up the first time, but maybe during a casual conversation, or maybe you had mentioned it while reminiscing about the littlest of things, from your childhood memories to what shape of the cloud you think you see. 

But once Toji knew you had a deep connection to the ocean, he made a point of driving you there whenever he could. There was a stretch of coastline a couple of hours away, not too far but far enough to feel like an escape from the routine of classes and rehearsals.

The first time he took you, you had been stressed over an upcoming recital, feeling the weight of expectation pressing down on you. Toji had sensed it, of course, and in his usual no-nonsense way, he simply said, “Let’s go.”

The drive was quiet at first, filled with the sound of the engine and the open road. But as the scenery changed from city streets to winding coastal roads, you felt yourself relax, your worries melting away in the face of the endless horizon. When you finally arrived, the sea stretched out before you like an open invitation, the salty air filling your lungs and the rhythmic crashing of the waves soothing something deep inside you.

It was on that shore that you realized how much Toji meant to you. He didn’t say much, didn’t need to. He just stood there beside you, hands in his pockets, letting you have the space to breathe. His presence was steady, grounding, like the ocean itself—a constant in your life that you hadn’t known you needed.

Over the months, those trips became your refuge. Whenever things get overwhelming; whether it was school, life, or the inevitable chaos that comes with growing up—Toji would drop whatever he was doing at the time and drive you to the sea. You’d spend hours walking along the beach, talking about everything and nothing. 

Sometimes you’d sit in silence, both of you content just to be there, feeling the wind on your faces and the cool sand beneath your feet. It was sometimes better, enjoying each other’s company. Other times, you’d talk late into the night, sharing stories from your childhoods, dreams for the future, and even the occasional fear that lingered in the back of your mind.

For Toji, the sea seemed to bring out a different side of him—a quieter, more reflective side. It was during these trips that he’d let his guard down, offering glimpses into his life beyond the cool, carefree persona he usually wore. 

You learned that he’d grown up near the ocean, that it had been his escape as a kid, a place where he could forget the troubles waiting for him at home. He never went into too much detail, but you could hear it in his voice—the weight of something unspoken, a part of him that he wasn’t quite ready to share yet.

For you, the sea was a place of peace. It reminded you of childhood summers spent by the shore, of simpler times when the only thing that mattered was the sound of the waves and the feeling of sand between your toes. Being there with Toji brought back that sense of calm, of being anchored in the present, and you found yourself growing more and more attached to those moments together.

Your friendship was effortless, but there was something else growing between you, something that neither of you had acknowledged out loud yet. It lingered in the spaces between your conversations, in the way Toji would glance at you when you weren’t looking, or the way your heart would skip a beat when his hand brushed against yours as you walked along the shore. It wasn’t just friendship anymore—it was something deeper, something that made your time together feel heavier, more significant.

But for now, you didn’t push it. You let things unfold as they would, trusting that whatever was happening between you and Toji would make itself known in time. And until then, you were content to keep taking those spontaneous trips to the sea, finding peace in each other’s company, knowing that somehow, no matter where you were, you always found your way back to him.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the water as you and Toji waded into the sea. The cool waves lapped at your ankles, sending shivers up your spine as you walked further in, side by side. The gentle roar of the ocean filled the space between you, and for a while, neither of you spoke, simply enjoying the serenity of the moment.

The sea had become your shared escape, a place where words weren’t always needed but somehow always found their way into the quiet moments. Toji was waist-deep now, his eyes fixed on the horizon, that familiar smirk playing on his lips.

“You always get this serious when we’re out here, you know?” you said, splashing a bit of water in his direction, hoping to break the quiet spell. “What are you thinking about?”

He glanced over at you, dodging the splash with ease. “The ocean does that to me, doll.” he admitted. “Makes you feel small, doesn’t it?”

You nodded, understanding what he meant. “Yeah, but in a good way. Like nothing else matters out here.”

Toji tilted his head slightly, considering your words. His usual laid-back attitude softened, replaced by that contemplative side he only seemed to show when you were near the water. “Maybe that’s why I keep bringing you here, doll.” he said, his voice quieter now, almost drowned out by the sound of the waves. “Keeps things simple.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that had nothing to do with the sun’s fading rays. “You do like things simple, don’t you?”

Toji gave a half-shrug, the corner of his mouth quivering. “Not everything, doll. I thought you knew that.”

There was a pause, and his words hung in the air between you. The two of you had been dancing around something for months now, that unspoken connection that neither of you had fully acknowledged. The tension between friendship and something more had always been there, simmering beneath the surface like the waves that rolled in at your feet.

“Okay, then, Toji….” you teased lightly, hoping to ease the heaviness of the moment. “What’s the most complicated thing in your life right now?”

He laughed softly, the sound mixing with the crash of the water. “You asking me that, here of all places, doll.” he said, shaking his head as if you had walked right into some unspoken truth.

You blinked, suddenly unsure of what to say. “What do you mean?”

Toji met your gaze, the teasing spark in his blue–green eyes replaced by something more serious, more real. His voice was low when he spoke, just loud enough for you to hear over the ocean. “You, probably.”

Your breath caught for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in. He wasn’t joking, not this time. There was no playful smirk, no light teasing. He was being honest in that way only Toji could be—blunt, to the point, but with a tenderness you weren’t used to seeing from him.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling the depth of the water around you, the way it mirrored the depth of what was happening between you two. “I didn’t think I was that complicated.” you managed to say, your voice soft but laced with a nervous laugh.

Toji took a step closer, the water swirling around his waist, but the space between you felt even more significant. “You’re not. You never have been.” he said. “But what I feel for you? That’s the complicated part.”

His words sent a jolt through you, and your heart started pounding in your chest. The two of you had spent months building this connection, this unspoken bond, and now—here, in the middle of the sea, surrounded by nothing but water and the fading light of the evening—he was finally saying it out loud.

“I wasn’t sure in the beginning, doll.” Toji continued, his voice still low, careful, like he was treading new ground. “At first, I thought it was just us hanging out, being friends. But then… I don’t know. The more time I spent with you, the harder it got to keep things simple. And it all just….it just stopped becoming clear.”

You felt the pull between you growing stronger, the unspoken tension finally surfacing. It had been there all along, in the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching, in the way his casual touches lingered just a little too long. You could feel your heart beating out your chest, your eyes tense as you looked at him.

“Toji….” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I feel it too.”

He didn’t say anything right away, but the relief that washed over his face was unmistakable. It was as though the tension disappeared as his shoulders dropped. The waves lapped gently at your legs, the soft push and pull mirroring the emotions between you. Toji stepped even closer, so close now that you could feel the warmth of his presence despite the cool water surrounding you both.

“I don’t do complicated things, doll.” he said, his bright beautiful eyes locking onto yours.“but I’m willing to try if it’s with you.”

The vulnerability in his words hit you like a wave. Toji, the man who seemed so laid-back and sure of himself, was standing here, opening up in a way you hadn’t expected. He was offering you something real, something he didn’t give easily.

You reached out, letting your hand find his beneath the water, your fingers intertwining with his. “I don’t need simple.” you said, smiling softly. “Well, not without you. I just…. need you.”

For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, the only sound the steady crash of the waves, the only feeling the warmth of his hand in yours. Toji’s gaze softened, and in that moment, it felt like something between you had finally clicked into place. Something unspoken, something that had always been there, was now laid bare between you.

He smiled then, that familiar, easy grin, but this time, it was softer, more genuine. “Guess that settles it, huh?”

You laughed, feeling the tension finally break, replaced by a sense of peace that only the sea and Toji—could give you. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

And as the two of you stood there, hand in hand, the sun setting behind you, the waves rolling gently at your feet, it felt like the beginning of something new—something neither of you could predict but both of you were ready to dive into together.

IT WAS LIKE FLOATING IN THE CLOUDS, EVERYTHING AFTER THAT. After that day at the sea, things between you and Toji shifted into something deeper. You started dating officially, but it wasn’t much different from before, just more intentional. You went everywhere together—spontaneous weekend trips, late-night diner runs, quiet evenings at your place with takeout and music playing in the background. 

He made you laugh like no one else could, and you found yourself feeling lighter in his presence. No one could make you feel this happy. Not anyone. Just your Toji. After that day at the sea, everything changed between you and Toji, but in the most natural way.

The shift wasn’t abrupt—it was like everything you both had been dancing around finally clicked into place. You were officially together now, but it didn’t feel that different from before, except for the fact that everything seemed more deliberate, more real.

Dating Toji was a blend of excitement and comfort. You found yourselves constantly making spontaneous decisions, from late-night drives to nowhere, to impromptu weekend getaways. He had this knack for making every moment feel like an adventure, even if all you were doing was stopping by a hole-in-the-wall diner at 2 AM for greasy burgers and fries. Somehow, the world felt bigger with him, like there was always something new to discover as long as he was by your side.

The quiet moments became just as meaningful. You’d sit together at your apartment, the dim glow of the city outside your windows, takeout containers spread across the coffee table as some old-school vinyl hummed softly in the background. Toji wasn’t one for endless conversation, but when he did speak, it was either to crack a joke that left you laughing uncontrollably or to say something so unexpectedly sincere that it left you speechless.

And the way he looked at you, with those sharp eyes softened just for you, made your heart race in a way no one else ever could. He had this rough exterior, intimidating to most, but with you, he was different—gentler in a way that seemed reserved for you alone. There were times when he’d pull you close without a word, his arms wrapped around you, as if to remind you that he wasn’t going anywhere, that you were his, and he was yours.

You never realized how easy happiness could feel until him. Sure, life had its ups and downs, but with Toji, the weight of the world seemed lighter. He made you laugh like no one else ever could, often in the simplest, silliest ways. Whether it was his dry humor or those stupid pranks he'd pull just to see you roll your eyes—everything about him had the power to brighten your day.

And then there were the quieter realizations, the ones that snuck up on you when you least expected it. Like when you’d catch him glancing at you from across the room, and there was something so tender in his gaze that it almost took your breath away. Or when he’d grab your hand in a crowded place, lacing his fingers through yours as if it were second nature, making you feel like the safest person in the world.

The truth was, no one made you feel the way Toji did. He wasn’t perfect—far from it—but neither were you, and that was what made it work. There was no pretense with him, no need to hide or hold back. He saw you for who you were, accepted you, and made you feel like you were more than enough. In his presence, you felt lighter, freer, like everything was easier when you were together.

No one else could do that. Not anyone. Just your Toji.

He was your person, your unexpected joy, and as things deepened between you, you realized that he had become so much more than just a part of your life. He was your home.

He was at your place again after finals. It was like a magnetic pull; he couldn’t stay away from you, even after the grueling physical test that left him spent and drenched in sweat. Yet, here he was—unbothered by his disheveled state. His body craved yours, and you could sense that same hunger in yourself. You had been waiting, yearning to close the distance, to touch him, taste him—everything.

As your boyfriend’s hand tenderly wrapped around your wrist, he tried with all his might to stop you. He had that surprised look on his face, almost as though he’d been caught off guard. You could feel your boyfriend's grip firm but almost too careful, almost too cautious. You looked at him with those bright doe eyes.

“Doll, what are you doing? I’m supposed to be the one to go down on you—”

You didn’t let him finish at all, leaning towards him and kissing him passionately. You smiled against the way he kissed you back, his palm touching your cheek as the gravitational pull drew you both closer, deeper and deeper into the kiss. You parted your lips from him and took a moment to pull his hand away from your wrist. It was strong but tenderly gentle. You shove it away. You slowly knelt in front of him.

“Let me do this first. Please.”

Toji could feel his breath hitch deeply. All he could feel at that moment was the way his knees trembled. He was sure that he was feeling it. It was too obvious. Everything about this was giving away the struggle between resistance and desire. 

“Here? In your kitchen, doll?” His voice cracked slightly, weary hesitance betrayed by the heat that cut through the reverberation of words. His blue–green eyes darted down to where you were, your hardened resolve so clear, and then back to him with a wanton glance at the sweat on his bright tan skin. “You can’t be serious, I have to cook our dinner now—”

“Please. Now.”

“Now?” Toji's question was more like a whisper, a mix of confusion and longing. It was as though he wasn’t sure if he should stop you or let you take him, right there, without a second thought. It was as though he was having a hard time figuring it out. “I can’t…I can’t just have you do this in the kitchen. It’s not even clean….”

His body told you all you needed to know. He wanted this as much as you did. You didn't answer him with words. Instead, you held his gaze, your intensity silencing the doubt that lingered in his eyes. Slowly, deliberately, your fingers trailed along his thigh, firm but teasing. His breath hitched again, sharper this time, and his hand flexed at his side as if unsure whether to stop you or let you take full control.

"Just let me, baby. Please, Toji." you whispered, your voice low and thick with need. It was a command, but more than that, a plea. You needed this—needed him.

His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, and you watched his resolve melt away. His chest rose and fell unevenly, each breath ragged, as though he was on the edge of a precipice, uncertain whether to fall or hold back. But when his hand, the one he'd tried to use to still you earlier, moved to your head, fingers tangling softly in your hair, you knew his decision.

"You’re—" He tried to speak, but the words failed him. Whatever argument or hesitation he had left was swallowed by the way his body responded to your touch. The tension in him snapped like a taut string, and all that remained was the heat between you.

You leaned closer, lips ghosting over his skin, the salt of his sweat mixing with the warmth radiating from him. Every inch of him felt alive under your hands, and you could feel his pulse racing, mirroring your own urgency.

His grip in your hair tightened ever so slightly, and the sound that escaped him was one of surrender. "Fine…fine." he breathed out, a soft growl that sent a shiver down your spine. "Whatever you want… just—"

His words faltered again, but it didn’t matter. You knew exactly what he meant. Your fingers slid down his abdomen, feeling the tension ripple beneath his skin as you lowered yourself further. His muscles twitch involuntarily under your touch, betraying his anticipation despite his earlier hesitation. You could hear his breath hitch again, faster this time, his hand still tangled in your hair, half-pulling, half-guiding you as though he couldn’t decide whether to hold back or let go.

You knew, though. He wanted this as badly as you did, even if his mind had yet to catch up to his body’s desires.

You pressed a kiss just above the waistband of his pants, slow and deliberate, feeling him tense beneath your lips. His hips jerked slightly, a reaction he couldn’t contain, and you smiled to yourself at the effect you were having on him. Your fingers toyed with the waistband, teasing him, drawing out the moment just a bit longer.

“Stop teasing…” he muttered, voice breathless and strained. His grip in your hair tightened for emphasis, but it lacked the conviction to pull you away. He was already lost in this, even if he tried to pretend otherwise.

You finally obliged, tugging down his pants, the fabric sliding against his skin, revealing him fully. His body shuddered at the sudden exposure, and a soft, involuntary groan escaped his lips as the cool air met his flushed skin.

You didn’t waste time after that, leaning in with purpose, your tongue flicking out to taste him. The groan that followed was deeper, rawer, his hand now gripping your hair tightly, holding on as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded. His legs trembled beneath your touch, and his breath came in ragged gasps as you moved, your mouth working him over with a slow, deliberate pace.

Every sound that escaped him, every twitch of his body, spurred you on, and you could feel him losing control. His hips buckled forward, desperate for more, and his other hand clutched the edge of the sofa behind him, knuckling white from the strain.

“Fuck.” he breathed, voice hoarse and barely audible, his entire body tense with the pleasure building inside him. “Don’t stop… just like that…”

You could feel him unraveling, every touch, every flick of your tongue driving him closer to the edge. And you were glad for it. You were giving it to him. You were the cause of his pleasure.  His breath came in short, sharp gasps, and his body trembled under your ministrations.

He was close, and you knew it, but you kept going, pushing him further, not giving him a moment to recover or catch his breath. His head fell back, his chest heaving as he surrendered completely to the sensations coursing through him.

And then, with a final, ragged groan, he came undone beneath you, his entire body tensing as waves of pleasure crashed over him. His grip on your hair loosened, and he slumped back against the sofa, utterly spent, chest rising and falling heavily.

You pulled back slowly, watching as he tried to catch his breath, his eyes half-lidded, glazed over with satisfaction. His hand slid weakly from your hair, his body still trembling in the aftershocks of his release.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the room filled only with the sound of his heavy breathing. Then, finally, he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as though in disbelief at what had just happened.

“God.” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “You really don’t play fair, do you?”

You smiled, wiping your lips as you leaned back on your heels. “I told you to let me do this.”

He laughed again, softer this time, eyes meeting yours with a mix of exhaustion and adoration. “Yeah, doll.” he whispered, voice still breathless. “You did.”

As the air settled between you, his breathing evened out, and he leaned forward. Before you could react, Toji’s strong hand cupped your face, pulling you in for a strong, passionate kiss. It was sudden, raw, his lips crashing into yours with the kind of intensity that took your breath away. 

His mouth was warm and demanding, and the taste of his. It was making him feel hotter. And it made you hotter that the taste of his juice was being shared between the two of you. It was too good, the heat, salty taste and something uniquely his—flooded your senses.

You felt a shiver race down your spine as his tongue brushed against your lips, coaxing them apart. Without thinking, you melted into him, letting him take the lead. The way his hand moved from your face to your neck, fingers pressing just enough to make you feel his power, sent your mind spinning. He didn’t give you time to catch your breath, the kiss growing more fervent with each passing second.

When he finally pulled back, both of you gasping for air, his dark, sharp eyes locked onto yours. A smirk curled at the corner of his mouth, and there was something dangerous in his expression—something that made your heart race faster than before.

“My turn, doll.” Toji rasped, voice low and gravelly, dripping with intent. His thumb traced your bottom lip, as though marking the spot where his mouth had just been. "You didn’t think I’d just let you have all the fun, did you?"

Before you could respond, his hands were on you, rough but purposeful, guiding you up and onto the couch. His grip was firm as he pressed you down, positioning himself between your legs, eyes dark with hunger. He wasted no time—there was no hesitation in his movements, only a primal desire to return everything you’d given him moments ago.

Toji’s lips found your neck, trailing hot kisses down to your collarbone. Each kiss, each brush of his lips against your skin sent electric jolts through your body, heightening your senses. He was taking his time now, savoring each second as he moved lower, his breath hot against your chest.

He paused briefly, looking up at you, that same wicked smile playing on his lips. "Relax. You’re gonna want to enjoy this."

With that, he moved lower, and your breath caught in your throat as his mouth descended. The sensation was immediate, overwhelming. His tongue was slow and deliberate, moving with the kind of precision that had you gripping the edge of the couch within seconds. Your back arched involuntarily, and a soft moan escaped your lips before you could stop it.

"That’s it." he murmured, the vibrations of his voice against your skin making you tremble. "Let me take care of you."

Toji’s pace was unhurried, savoring the way your body responded to him, but there was a ferocity behind his touch that let you know he wasn’t going to stop until you were completely undone. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you exactly where he wanted you, his strength evident in every subtle movement.

Each flick of his tongue, each stroke of his lips sent you spiraling, and soon you were lost in the sensation. Your hands found his hair, fingers gripping tightly as you struggled to stay grounded, but it was impossible. Toji was relentless, expertly pushing you further and further, until you were right on the edge, your entire body trembling under his touch.

"Toji," you gasped, your voice breaking as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable intensity. "I—"

But he didn’t let you finish. Instead, he quickened his pace, his grip on your thighs tightening as he pushed you over that edge. The sensation hit you like a tidal wave, your body shuddering as the pleasure washed over you, leaving you breathless and shaking beneath him.

For a moment, the world went hazy. All you could hear was your own heartbeat, loud and fast in your ears, and the sound of Toji’s deep, steady breathing as he slowly pulled away.

When your vision cleared, he was leaning over you, eyes filled with satisfaction. His lips curled into a familiar smirk as he wiped his mouth, clearly proud of the way he had left you undone. "Told you it was my turn." he teased, his voice smug, but the warmth in his gaze softened the edge.

You couldn’t help but laugh, still trying to catch your breath. "Yeah," you managed to say, voice hoarse. "I think you made your point."

Toji leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, this time slower, more intimate. "Good." he whispered against your mouth. "Because I’m not done with you yet."

EVERYTHING ABOUT YOUR RELATIONSHIP, IT WASN’T PERFECT.  And you always knew that, even in the best of moments. There were times when Zenin Toji’s recklessness frustrated you or when his silence left too much unsaid. But none of that ever seemed to matter in the grand scheme of things. 

What mattered was that it was real, and despite the flaws, both of you were genuinely happy. Toji had a way of making life feel effortless, as though the weight of the world didn’t matter when you were with him. His presence made everything feel simple, even when it wasn’t.

For a while, you let yourself believe in that simplicity. You believed that the two of you could live in this uncomplicated, happy bubble forever, like nothing could shake the foundation you’d built together. Every laugh, every stolen glance, every spontaneous trip made it easy to forget about the uncertainties that loomed in the background. With Toji, life felt lighter, almost as if the two of you existed in a world separate from everyone else’s struggles and complications.

But then something shifted. It was subtle at first, a creeping unease you couldn’t quite place. Until one day, your world came crashing into focus. You found out you were pregnant.

The moment the test came back positive, the air seemed to leave the room. You sat in the bathroom, staring at the two lines on the test, your mind racing but stuck at the same time. Hours seemed to pass, or maybe just minutes. Time had no meaning at that moment. All you could focus on was the weight of the news in your hands and the way everything suddenly felt heavier, more real, more terrifying than you’d ever imagined.

How could this have happened? Sure, you and Toji had been careless at times, but it never seemed like a real possibility….until now. And now, you were faced with a reality you hadn’t prepared for, a future that felt overwhelmingly uncertain.

You were scared. Not just for yourself, but for Toji too. You had no idea how he’d react, and that terrified you even more. He wasn’t exactly the kind of guy who liked to plan or think too far ahead. He thrived on spontaneity, on living in the moment, and the idea of something as permanent and life-altering as a baby… you weren’t sure how he’d handle it.

Would he be angry? Dismissive? Or worse—indifferent?

The thought of having that conversation made you feel physically ill. You had played out the scenario a hundred times in your head. Maybe he’d shrug it off like it was no big deal, or maybe he’d walk out without a second thought. Or maybe he’d surprise you, like he had so many times before, and show a side of himself you hadn’t expected. The uncertainty gnawed at you, filling your chest with a kind of dread you hadn’t experienced before.

You spent the next few days trying to find the right moment, the right words, but nothing ever seemed good enough. Each time you looked at him, your throat tightened. He’d catch your gaze, and you’d quickly look away, afraid that he’d somehow see the truth written all over your face before you were ready to say it out loud.

But it was inevitable. You couldn’t hide it forever, and sooner or later, you’d have to face what this meant for both of you. Would it change everything? Could your relationship survive something so monumental? You didn’t know. The only thing you knew for sure was that your world had already shifted, and there was no going back.

That evening, when he came over to your apartment, you were sitting on the couch, your hands clasped together, trying to gather the courage to tell him. Toji sat beside you, noticing your tense posture immediately.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly in concern.

You took a deep breath, your heart racing in your chest. “Toji, I need to tell you something.”

His expression shifted, becoming more serious. “Okay. What’s up?”

“I’m pregnant.” The words fell from your lips like stones, sinking into the quiet space between you. You watched his face closely, trying to read his reaction, but it was hard to tell what he was feeling at first. He blinked, his mouth slightly open, as though trying to process the information.

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. He just stared at you, his mind working behind his eyes. You could see the shock there, the confusion, the disbelief. His silence made your heart pound even harder.

“Toji?” you prompted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He finally exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Are you… sure?”

“Yeah. Of course I am.” you nodded, your throat tightening. “I took a test.”

Another silence stretched between you, the weight of the situation settling in the room. Toji leaned back slightly, his face unreadable as he stared at the floor, his brows furrowed in thought. It wasn’t anger, but it wasn’t joy either. It was something heavier, something more complicated.

“I—” he started, then stopped, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to say.”

The pit in your stomach deepened. You had known this would be hard, but seeing him so stunned, so lost, was more painful than you had anticipated.

“Toji, listen…. I just… I already planned this out and I thought about it.” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “I don’t want to make this hard on you.”

He looked up at you then, his eyes sharp, questioning.

“What are you saying?” he asked, his voice low.

You took another breath, already feeling the tears welling up behind your eyes. “I’ve been thinking about it. Calmly. And…honestly.… I’ve decided I’m going to get an abortion.”

His blue–green eyes widened slightly, and for the first time since you’d told him, you saw a flicker of something raw, something close to fear in his expression.

“An abortion?” he repeated, his voice sounding hollow.

“Yeah, I am.” you nodded, trying to stay composed. “I don’t think we’re ready for this, Toji. I don’t want to complicate your life any more than it needs to be. With your family being rough and everything, I just…I don’t want this to add to your life. And I don’t want it to be harder on us, I mean we’re in college with nothing.”

He was quiet for a long moment, but the tension in his body was palpable. He was thinking, processing, trying to make sense of everything. When he finally spoke again, his voice was firm, but there was something broken underneath it.

“Are you… doing this for me?” he asked, his jaw clenched. “Because if you are, don’t.”

You blinked, startled by the sudden force in his words. “Toji, listen… I’m just trying to make it easier for you—”

“No, no.” he interrupted, shaking his head. “Don’t make that decision because of me. If you don’t want this, fine. But don’t do it because you think I can’t handle it.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding as the conversation turned heavier than you had anticipated. Toji had never been the type to be openly vulnerable, but there was something in his eyes now, something deeper than shock. It was fear. Not of the pregnancy itself, but of you taking that choice away from him.

“I’m not. I promise, I’m…” you said quietly, your voice trembling. “It’s not just about you, Toji. It’s about me too. We’re not ready for this—”

“And what if we are?” he cut you off again, his voice strained. “What if we could be?”

You shook your head, tears finally slipping from your eyes. “It’s too much. We’re not even finished with school. I don’t want to mess up your life.”

Toji reached out, his hand gripping your arm, not hard, but firm enough to make you stop. “You think this would mess up my life?” he asked, his eyes searching for yours. “What about yours?”

The question hit you hard. You had been so focused on how Toji would react, on how this would change his future, that you hadn’t fully considered what this meant for you. It wasn’t just his life that would change—it was yours too. And the truth was, you were terrified of that change.

“I don’t know what to do.” you whispered, finally letting the fear show in your voice.

Toji’s expression softened, and for the first time since the conversation started, he pulled you into his arms. His grip was strong, steady, like he was trying to anchor you in the chaos of your own emotions.

“We don’t have to decide everything right now, doll.” he said softly, his voice close to your ear. “But don’t do this just because you think it’s the right thing for me.”

You closed your eyes, resting your head against his chest, letting the weight of his words sink in. You didn’t know what the future held, or what the right decision was. All you knew was that, for the first time in a long while, you weren’t facing this alone.

IT WAS A FEW WEEKS LATER.  Zenin Toji sat in the crowded cafeteria, only half-aware of the conversation around him. The buzz of his classmates discussing internships, upcoming exams, and their futures faded into the background as he absentmindedly poked at his food. 

His thoughts were elsewhere, drifting between the monotony of the day and the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. It had been a few days since he last saw you, but with finals and the usual chaos of student life, it wasn’t unusual. He figured you were busy, like everyone else.

But then a group of your friends approached. Their faces were drawn with concern, their eyes darting nervously around the room as they stopped in front of him. Toji barely registered their presence at first, his mind still elsewhere, until one of them spoke up.

“Toji, hey.” her voice was soft but edged with worry. “Have you seen her?”

He frowned, snapping back to the present. “What are you talking about? Who?”

“Her. You know…” she repeated, her words hitting a little harder this time. “Your girlfriend. She’s not in her dorm, and we haven’t seen her around campus. She dropped out, Toji. The professors said she withdrew from all her classes.”

The fork in his hand froze mid-air, his breath hitching as the words landed with a gut-wrenching thud. Dropped out? You? No. That couldn’t be right. You hadn’t mentioned anything about dropping out or even considering it. The last time you spoke, everything seemed normal—at least as normal as it had been lately. But this? It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t like you to just disappear, especially not without saying anything to him.

Toji’s chest tightened, panic swelling beneath the surface, though he tried to mask it with his usual composed demeanor. “What?” he asked, his voice sharper than intended, laced with disbelief. “What do you mean she dropped out?”

“I don’t know..” one of your friends replied, her own uncertainty mirroring his. “She’s just… gone. We checked everywhere—her dorm, the library, even the places she liked to hang out. She’s not answering her phone. And when we talked to the professors, they confirmed it. She withdrew from all her classes yesterday.”

His heart pounded in his chest, a sinking feeling spreading through him. Gone. The word echoed in his mind, heavy and suffocating. None of this made any sense. He thought back to the last few times you were together, searching for any clue, any sign that you were planning something like this. But nothing stood out. You had been a little distant lately, maybe, but you always brushed it off as stress from school.

The thought of you leaving without saying a word, of just vanishing from his life like that, was like a punch to the gut. Toji wasn’t used to feeling powerless, but right now, that’s exactly what he felt. He had no control, no idea what was going on, and the uncertainty of it all gnawed at him like a vicious storm.

“Did she… did she say anything to any of you?” he asked, his voice rougher now, desperate for some kind of explanation. “Anything about why she’d do this?”

Your friends exchanged uncertain glances, but none of them had answers. One of them finally spoke, shaking her head. “No, she didn’t say anything. She’s been quiet lately, but we didn’t think she was planning to leave like this.”

Quiet. Distant. It all started to add up, piece by piece. You had been pulling away, hadn’t you? It was subtle, barely noticeable at first, but now, in hindsight, it seemed so clear. Toji’s mind raced with possibilities—was this about the pregnancy? 

Did you feel like you couldn’t tell him? Did you think he wouldn’t want this? His stomach twisted at the thought. He wasn’t the best at dealing with emotions, but if you had come to him, if you had just told him… he would’ve figured it out with you.

He pushed away from the table, standing up abruptly, his heart racing. “I’m going to find her.”

“Toji—” one of your friends began, but he was already moving, his mind set. He had to find you, had to understand what had driven you to this decision. Whatever was going on, he needed answers—needed to hear it from you.

Because the idea of losing you, of you walking out of his life without even a word, was something he wasn’t prepared to face.

Without a second thought, Toji pushed his chair back, standing up abruptly. His classmates glanced at him, startled, but he barely registered their reactions. His phone was already in his hand, and he started dialing your number as he made his way out of the cafeteria, his steps quick and purposeful.

The ringing on the other end felt like it lasted forever. His heart pounded harder with each unanswered ring, his mind racing with questions. Why hadn’t you told him? Why had you left?

Finally, you picked up.

“Toji.” you said quietly, your voice strained, almost like you had been expecting this call but had dreaded answering it.

“Where the hell are you?” he asked, trying and failing to keep the frustration and panic out of his voice. “Your friends came up to me. They said you dropped out. What’s going on?”

There was a pause, a heavy silence on the other end, before you finally answered.

“I left.” you said softly.

“What do you mean you left?” His voice was sharper now, disbelief and anger mixing together. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t.” you replied, your tone distant, guarded.

“Couldn’t?” Toji repeated, his frustration growing. “You just decided to leave without saying anything? That’s it? That’s your explanation?”

You were quiet for a moment, and Toji could hear the sound of your breathing on the other end. His footsteps echoed in the empty hallway as he made his way toward your dorm, his pace quickening. He could feel it, something’s not right. And he didn’t like it. He didn’t like this.

“I just… I can’t do this anymore, Toji.” you finally said, your voice cracking, though you were trying hard to keep it steady.

His chest tightened at your words. “What are you talking about? Can’t do what? We’re supposed to figure this out together!”

“I don’t want to make things harder for you.” you said, your voice soft and strained. “I don’t want you to feel trapped.”

Toji stopped in his tracks, standing just outside your dorm. His hand was already on the door, but he couldn’t bring himself to knock. “Trapped?” His voice was low now, disbelief coating every word. “You think I feel trapped?”

“You deserve more than this, Toji.” you said, your tone hollow. “More than me. I can’t keep doing this to you.”

“To me?” His voice grew louder again, anger mixing with the hurt that was now undeniable. “You think leaving without a word, without even trying to talk to me about it, is making things easier? You think this is what I want?”

Another silence stretched between you, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

“I can’t do it anymore, Toji.” you repeated, your voice more final this time. “I can’t do… us.”

Toji’s hand clenched into a fist, his knuckles turning white as he leaned his head against the door, trying to hold back the surge of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He had never been good with feelings, never been good at expressing what was going on inside his head, but this—this was different. This was you.

“Why?” he asked, his voice raw, the hurt finally slipping through the cracks in his defenses. “Tell me why. I thought we were in this together.”

Your breath hitched on the other end of the line, and Toji knew you were trying to hold back tears. “I’m sorry.” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “But I have to do this. I’m breaking up with you, Toji.”

His stomach dropped. He had heard the words, but they didn’t feel real. Not yet. Not when you were still on the other end of the line, not when he was standing outside your door.

“Don’t do this, doll.” he said, his voice low and pleading now. “We can figure it out. Whatever it is, we can fix it. You don’t have to run.”

But you didn’t answer. The silence on the other end grew heavier, suffocating, until it became clear what you were doing.

“You’re really doing this?” Toji asked, his voice thick with disbelief. “You’re just leaving?”

“I’m sorry, Toji.” you whispered again, and then the line went dead.

He stood there, the phone still pressed against his ear, the empty dial tone ringing in his mind. You were gone. You had left, just like that. The weight of it all hit him at once—the pregnancy, the future you both had avoided talking about, the life that had suddenly unraveled in a single moment.

For the first time in a long while,  Zenin Toji felt lost.

HE BLINKED AND IT WAS THE FUTURE. Years had passed since that fateful conversation, and life had unfolded in unexpected ways for Zenin Toji. He had poured himself into his work, rising through the ranks to become a top engineer at his company. His days were filled with projects and deadlines, and while the ache of the past lingered in the back of his mind, he had learned to compartmentalize it.

He was dating someone new now, a woman who brought laughter and light into his life. They shared quiet dinners, spontaneous weekend trips, and plans for a future that felt bright and hopeful. Toji had learned to enjoy the moments, to savor the present without the weight of what could have been pulling him down.

But one afternoon, as he was wrapping up a meeting, his phone rang. The name on the screen made his stomach drop: it was one of your old friends.

He answered, his tone casual. “Hey, what’s up?”

The silence on the other end was heavy, laden with a gravity that sent a chill down his spine. “Toji… I need to talk to you. It’s about uh….her.”

The way she said your name made his heart race, an instinctual dread creeping in. “What about her?” he asked, his voice tightening. It has been years. Years since he’s heard your name. Years since that feeling of the sea wallowed its way into his heart. You. The very thought of you was spring, endless spring. “What happened?”

Another pause. “She… she passed away.”

The words hit him like a physical blow, knocking the breath from his lungs. “What?” he managed to stammer, disbelief flooding his mind. “What do you mean, passed away?”

“She had an accident. It was sudden. I’m so sorry, Toji.”

He felt the world tilt on its axis, the room around him blurring as the shock set in. “No, no, that can’t be right.” he said, shaking his head as if the motion could change the reality. “When? How?”

“We don’t have all the details about it yet.” she said softly, her voice trembling with emotion. “But I thought you should know. She had some friends over… and then it happened, after they all left. There’s suspicion that it was an accidental drug overdose, medication. Um, but we’re not sure if that’s true. Because…she’d tell us, if she was sick.”

The words began to sink in, but they felt surreal, detached from reality. How could this be happening? You had once been a part of his life, and now… now you were gone. The memories surged back—your laughter, the way your eyes lit up when you spoke about music, the softness in your voice when you told him you were leaving.

“I… I need to go.” he said, his voice shaking. “I need to be there.”

“Are you okay?” she asked, concern echoing in her tone. “Toji, breathe.”

But Toji couldn’t respond. He ended the call, the weight of what he had just heard pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. He stared at the wall, his thoughts racing, heart pounding. Everything he had built, the life he had created, suddenly felt meaningless in the face of this loss. All shattered. Both the past, the present and future — all at once, dying.

He stood up, feeling unsteady, as if the ground beneath him had vanished. The world outside his office window looked the same, but everything felt different—bleak, muted, and empty.

Without thinking, he grabbed his jacket and left the office, his mind a whirlpool of memories and emotions. He could hardly focus on the road as he drove, the city blurring past him. All he could think about was you—what you had meant to him, the moments they shared, the unfinished conversations that hung in the air.

When he finally arrived at the location your friend sent, everything about the scene was somber, filled with familiar faces that had once been part of your life. He made his way through the gathering, his heart heavy in his chest. He saw your friends, their faces drawn with grief, and the realization hit him like a wave: you were really gone.

Zenin Toji found a quiet corner, his back pressed against a wall, as the reality settled in. The laughter and joy he had learned to embrace felt like a betrayal now. You should have been here, sharing these moments, navigating life together, just as you once had.

As he stood there, memories flooded back—moments of joy, of connection, of love. And in that instant, he understood that he would always carry a part of you with him, a lingering ache that would never truly fade.

The world moved on around him, but Toji felt frozen in place, grappling with the loss of someone who had shaped him in ways he had never acknowledged until now. And in that moment, he knew that no matter how much time passed, he would never forget you.

Toji stood at the edge of the gathering, the atmosphere heavy with sorrow and disbelief. The small chapel was filled with familiar faces, all of them grieving the loss of you, and he felt an ache deep in his chest as he took in the scene. Your family stood near the front, your mother clutching a bouquet of flowers, her eyes red and swollen from crying. Your father stood beside her, a stoic figure trying to hold it all together.

As the service progressed, Toji’s gaze wandered, and he noticed a young boy standing close to your mother. The child couldn’t have been more than five or six, his small frame almost dwarfed by the adults around him. He had dark tousled hair and bright, green – blue eyes echoing with curiosity that seemed to scan the room, searching for something—or someone.

Toji’s heart dropped as he took a closer look. The boy had a striking resemblance to him. It was subtle but unmistakable—the shape of his face, the curve of his lips, and the way he tilted his head when he looked around. The realization hit him hard, like a punch to the gut.

Just then, the boy moved toward your casket, his tiny hands reaching out to touch the smooth wood. As though he wanted to stroke your face with the warmth of a thousand suns. Toji felt a surge of instinct, wanting to protect the child from this pain, but before he could react, a white-haired man stepped in. With an air of calm authority, he gently scooped the boy into his arms, pulling him away from the somber sight.

Toji’s breath caught in his throat as he recognized the man—Gojo Satoru, a familiar figure from your past. He was your friend in college too. Protege, in the science department. He was a chief mourner today. The very presence of him felt like a ghost, both comforting and painful. He had always known Gojo Satoru to be a charismatic enigma, with his goofy smile and unserious eyes. But now his demeanor was serious, focused on the child in his arms.

“Hey, little guy.” Gojo said softly, kneeling down to the boy's level, his voice a soothing balm against the surrounding grief. “Let’s give her some space, okay?”

The boy looked up at Gojo, confusion etched on his young face. “But I want to say goodbye to my mama.” he said, his voice small and tremulous.

Toji felt his heart clench. Who was this child? Why did he look so much like him? Was he really…?

“Let’s remember her in a different way.” Gojo suggested gently, still holding the boy close. “We can share stories about how amazing she was, okay?”

The child seemed to consider this, his brows furrowing in thought. Toji felt an urge to move closer, to find out everything he could about this boy, but he was rooted to the spot, unable to tear his gaze away.

As Gojo began to lead the boy away from the casket, the child turned back one last time, his wide eyes filled with innocence and sorrow. “I miss her already. I miss my mama already.” he whispered, and Toji’s heart shattered at the sound of those words.

He watched as Gojo knelt down again, whispering something in the boy’s ear. Whatever it was, it made the child’s face light up with a fleeting smile, and for a moment, Toji felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps this boy could carry on a part of you—your spirit, your laughter, your love.

But the reality of the situation crashed over him once more. You were gone, and this child, whom he instinctively felt a connection to, was a reminder of everything that had been lost.

Toji took a step forward, the urge to reach out to the boy overwhelming him. He had to know. “Excuse me.” he said, his voice cutting through the murmur of the gathering, his eyes locked on Gojo and the boy. “Who is he?”

Gojo looked up, surprise flickering in his gaze before a knowing look settled in. “This is your son, Toji,” he said gently. “He’s her child. Your child.”

The words hung in the air like a weight, and Toji felt the ground shift beneath him. He had a son? The realization was like a tidal wave crashing over him, overwhelming and disorienting. All the moments he had missed, the life he hadn’t known he had—everything rushed to the surface, leaving him gasping for breath.

“I didn’t know….I….” he murmured, the words barely escaping his lips. “I didn’t know I had a son…”

Gojo nodded, his expression softening. “She wanted to tell you, but things got complicated. She loved you, Toji. She always did.”

The ache in Toji’s chest deepened, a mixture of regret and longing flooding through him. He wanted to reach out to the boy, to embrace him and promise to be there, to make up for all the lost time. But he felt frozen, unsure of how to bridge this sudden chasm between them.

The boy turned to look at him, his innocent eyes searching, and in that moment, Toji knew he couldn’t turn away. He took a step forward, his heart pounding, ready to face the truth of his past and embrace the future, whatever it might hold.

Toji took a deep breath, his mind racing as he processed the weight of everything Gojo had just revealed. “Who are you, exactly? To her.” he asked, his voice steadier than he felt. “Why are you here with him?”

Gojo regarded him with a measured gaze, a mix of understanding and sympathy etched across his features. “I’m Satoru Gojo, her ex.” he began, his tone calm yet heavy with unspoken history. “We had our time together, but she broke up with me to focus on raising him—Megumi.” He paused, his expression shifting slightly, as if weighing his next words. “But… I helped out when she started to suffer from her illness. We…we  also worked together.”

The revelation hit Toji like a punch to the gut. It was hard to hear that you had suffered, and he couldn’t fathom how you had faced such a struggle. You have always been so vibrant, so full of life. The image of you laughing by the sea, dreaming about the future, felt so far removed from the harsh reality of illness. How could this happen? How could you be dead? The thought churned in his stomach, leaving him feeling hollow and lost.

He felt a wave of panic and disbelief. You had been taken away from your son. From Toji. It was like that again—just when he had thought he was on the cusp of something beautiful and real, everything crumbled. You had left him once more, not by choice this time, but by fate’s cruel hand.

“Why didn’t I know?” Toji’s voice was barely a whisper, laced with frustration and sorrow. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Gojo’s eyes softened with empathy. “She wanted to protect you, Toji. You had a life too. She thought that by keeping her distance, she could spare you the pain. She didn’t want you to feel trapped by her son and her illness. It was incurable, all there could be was maintenance. So…she thought it would be better to leave before the damage was done.”

Trapped. The word stung. He had always wanted to be there for you, to share the burdens and the joys. “But I would have wanted to be a part of it, for bitter or worse.” he replied, his voice trembling. “I could have helped. I could have been there for both of you.”

Gojo nodded, understanding the turmoil in Toji’s heart. “She knew that, but she was scared—scared of what her illness would do to you and to Megumi. She wanted to give him a chance at a life free from that burden. It was a hard choice, but she thought it was the right one.”

The realization crashed over Toji like a wave. You had made that decision alone, believing it was the best thing for your son. And now, that choice has cost you your life. Anguish twisted inside him, and he felt a growing anger not towards you, but towards the circumstances that had taken you away.

How could it be fair? How could the universe allow such a beautiful spirit to slip away while leaving behind a child who would now grow up without knowing his mother?

Toji felt as if the air had been sucked from his lungs. The name hit him like a jolt, reverberating through him in a way he hadn’t anticipated. “Megumi.” he repeated softly, the sound wrapping around his heart like a lifeline. 

It was the name you had once discussed with such warmth and hope while watching the waves crash against the shore, dreaming of what could be if you ever started a family together. The memory came flooding back—the laughter, the carefree joy of that day, and the vivid images of a future that felt so tangible then.

“Yeah, she loved that name.” Toji murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I did too.”

He struggled to hold back tears, remembering how your eyes sparkled when you spoke about having a family, the way you imagined little Megumi running along the beach, chasing after waves with unabashed joy. That dream had felt so real, and now it felt like a cruel joke, a glimpse of what might have been.

Gojo nodded, his gaze steady. “She was a great mom, Toji. Megumi was her whole world. She did everything she could to raise him right, even when things got tough.”

The weight of those words settled heavily on Toji’s heart. “What happened to her?” he asked, his voice trembling. He needed to know; he had to understand how it had come to this.

“Heart disease.” Gojo replied, a shadow of sadness crossing his face. “Giving birth to Megumi made it worse, but she…she thinks Megumi was the best thing in her life. Her treasure in the sea, she calls him.”

Gojo’s words hung heavy in the air, the weight of them settling deep in Toji’s chest. He could feel the slow, painful collapse of his heart as the reality of the situation set in. The woman he once cared for, the mother of his son, had been struggling in silence all this time, carrying the burden of her illness alone while he lived his life, unaware. The thought gnawed at him, twisting the guilt deeper into his soul.

“She never regretted it,” Gojo continued, his voice steady but soft. “She said you had a good life. And she did too, despite everything. She wanted to make sure Megumi had the best, and she gave him all the love she could.”

Toji clenched his jaw, fighting against the flood of emotions surging inside him. Anger, sorrow, regret—it all mixed together into a tight knot in his chest. He felt sick with it, sick with the thought that while he was out there, living his life without a care, she had been suffering. And she hadn’t reached out to him. Hadn’t told him how bad things were. She’d shouldered it all on her own.

“But why didn’t she reach out to me?” Toji’s voice trembled, his words barely above a whisper. He needed to know. He needed to understand why she’d kept him in the dark. “I could’ve helped… I would’ve done something. Anything.”

Gojo’s gaze softened, sympathy shining in his eyes. “She didn’t want to burden you. That’s what she always said. You had your own life, your own path. She didn’t want you to feel tied down by everything she was going through.”

Toji’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, frustration boiling just beneath the surface. He wanted to scream, to curse the universe for being so cruel. How could she have thought he wouldn’t want to help? How could she have carried that weight alone?

Gojo sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, his expression solemn. “She never saw it as a sacrifice, Toji. In her eyes, you both lived your lives as you were meant to. She loved Megumi with everything she had, and she believed she made the right choice by not involving you. It was her way of protecting you, even if it meant doing it on her own.”

“To protect me?” Toji muttered bitterly, his chest tightening even more. The thought of her enduring so much pain while thinking she was doing it for his sake felt unbearable. “But it wasn’t just about me. I had a right to know… Megumi’s my son, too. I should’ve been there for him. For her.”

“I know,” Gojo said quietly, his tone gentle but firm. “But in her mind, this was the best way. She wanted you to live your life freely. No regrets, no guilt. And in the end, she did what she thought was best for Megumi.”

Toji’s heart ached at those words. The image of her, alone with Megumi, doing her best to raise him while struggling with an illness that had only worsened over the years—it was too much to bear. He couldn’t shake the feeling of helplessness that clung to him, the overwhelming regret of not knowing, not being there when they needed him most.

“She called him her treasure in the sea,” Gojo added softly. “He was her everything.”

Toji swallowed hard, his throat tight. “And now what?” he asked, his voice strained. “What happens to Megumi now?”

Gojo’s gaze was steady, full of understanding. “Now, it’s your turn, Toji. Megumi needs you. You might not have been there before, but you can be there now.”

The gravity of Gojo’s words hit him like a tidal wave. Megumi was his responsibility now. His son. And no matter how much he regretted the past, he couldn’t change it. All he could do was move forward and be the father Megumi needed.

Toji’s heart felt heavy, but amidst the pain and regret, a flicker of resolve began to grow. He couldn’t undo what had happened, but he wouldn’t let his son down. Not again.

“I’ll be there for him. I….I will be there, just like she was.” Toji whispered, more to himself than to Gojo. “I won’t let him go through this alone.”

Gojo nodded, his expression softening. “That’s all she ever wanted.”

“Megumi….I….” Toji whispered, a smile breaking through the haze of grief. “I never knew…” His voice trailed off, choked with emotion.

Gojo watched him intently, gauging his reaction. “You can get to know him, Toji. You can be part of his life if you want. He deserves to know his father.”

Toji felt a rush of determination mixed with fear. “I want to be there for him. I want to be part of his life,” he said, his voice firm. “But how do I do that? How do I even begin?”

Gojo stepped back, giving Toji space while still keeping Megumi close. “You take it one step at a time. Start by introducing yourself. He needs to see that you care.”

Toji looked at Megumi, who was now watching him with wide, innocent eyes, curiosity mixing with uncertainty. It felt surreal, being in this moment—a chance to connect with the child he never knew existed.

“Hey, Megumi.” he said softly, kneeling down to the boy’s level. “I’m Toji. I’m your… father.”

The boy’s gaze flickered between Gojo and Toji, processing the words. “Father?” he echoed, his voice small and hesitant.

“Yeah.” Toji said, his heart racing. “I didn’t know about you until today, but I promise I want to be here for you. I want to know you.”

Megumi’s expression shifted, uncertainty still lingering, but there was a flicker of something else—hope? Curiosity? Toji couldn’t tell, but he felt compelled to keep talking. “Your mom and I talked about you once, you know. We dreamed about what it would be like to have a family. We even picked your name together.”

At the mention of your name, Megumi’s eyes brightened a little. “Mom loved me?” he asked, his voice small but filled with longing.

Toji nodded, feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes. “More than anything. She thought you were the most special person in the world.”

Gojo watched the exchange, a subtle smile of encouragement on his face, and for the first time, Toji felt a sense of connection to this boy. A connection that reached beyond the pain and the past, into a future that was now possible.

“Can we talk about her?” Megumi asked, his small voice filled with the innocence of a child who wanted to keep your memory alive.

“Of course.” Toji replied, his heart swelling with affection. “We can talk about her all day. She was amazing, Megumi. And I want to share all the stories with you.”

As they stood there, the weight of loss began to shift, creating space for something new—a tentative bond that could grow into something meaningful. Toji knew it would take time, but he felt a flicker of hope ignite within him.

“I’m here now.” Toji said, looking deep into Megumi’s eyes. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

EVERYTHING HAD BEEN A WHIRLWIND.  Fushiguro Toji’s life changed in ways he never anticipated. The news of your passing was like a shockwave, reshaping his world overnight. He left his family. He broke up with his girlfriend. He changed his last name to match yours and Megumi, after he had asked your parents. He needed to focus on raising Megumi. Like you would have wanted. Like it should have been. 

Taking on the responsibility of being Megumi’s father was daunting. Every day brought new challenges and revelations. Toji found himself learning how to care for a child, adjusting to late-night feedings and school projects, and discovering the joy of small victories—like Megumi’s laughter during playtime or the pride in his eyes when he accomplished something new. 

Yet, amid the routine of parenting, there was a void that lingered deep within him. He wasn’t over you. He never had been. Memories of you flooded his mind—your laughter, the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about the future, the dreams you had shared together. It felt like a cruel twist of fate that he now held the title of father while grappling with the reality that you were gone.

Every time he looked at Megumi, he saw pieces of you—the way he scrunched his nose when he concentrated, the softness of his smile, and the kindness in his heart. Toji often found himself reminiscing about those conversations you had on the beach, envisioning the life you had both dreamed of. It hurt to think of the family that could have been, the moments that would never materialize.

Despite the pain, he pushed forward. For Megumi’s sake, he channeled his grief into being the best father he could be. He read parenting books, reached out for advice, and did his best to create a stable home filled with warmth and love. He wanted Megumi to feel secure, to know that he was cherished and valued. 

But as the days turned into weeks and then months, the ache of your absence remained a constant companion. Toji would often catch himself staring out at the ocean, remembering the life you envisioned together, and it struck him anew how unfair it all felt. You had left too soon, and now he was left to navigate the complexities of fatherhood alone, always carrying a piece of your heart with him.

The sea stretched out before them, the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore filling the air with a soothing melody. Toji stood at the edge of the water, the salty breeze brushing through his hair as he watched Megumi run ahead, his small figure framed against the vast expanse of the ocean. The boy’s quiet demeanor softened in the presence of the sea, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he bent down to pick up a shell, the sunlight catching in his dark hair.

Toji’s heart tightened as he watched him, an unexpected flood of emotions surging through him. This was your place—the sea. You had always talked about how peaceful it made you feel, how the endless horizon made everything seem possible. He remembered the times you’d come here together, how you’d sit by the water, your laughter carried away by the wind. And now, here he was, with your son—his son—standing in the same place you had once loved.

He raised the camera in his hands, snapping a picture of Megumi as the boy turned toward him, holding up the shell in his hand as if to show it to him. Toji couldn’t help but smile, his heart swelling with a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time. There was something about Megumi in this moment, something in his quiet curiosity, the way his eyes softened as he gazed at the sea, that reminded him so much of you.

It hit him like a wave—how much of you lived in Megumi. Not just in his looks, but in his spirit. The calm, quiet strength, the way he approached the world with a sense of wonder, but always with his guard up. You had given Megumi more than just life; you had given him a piece of your heart, a piece of the love you had carried for both of them.

Toji took another picture, capturing the way the light danced across Megumi’s face, the way the sea reflected in his eyes. And for a moment, he could see you—standing there beside him, your laughter mingling with the sound of the waves, your hand resting gently on his shoulder.

He lowered the camera, his gaze softening as he watched Megumi return to the water’s edge. He was beginning to understand now, the words you had left behind, the meaning of what you had called Megumi—your treasure in the sea. It wasn’t just about the boy himself, but what he represented. The love you had for him, the love you had for Toji, even if life had taken you down separate paths.

Megumi was that love. He was the bridge between you and Toji, the one thing that connected them both, even after you were gone.

Toji closed his eyes, taking in the sound of the sea, letting it wash over him. For so long, he had been angry, filled with regret for not being there when you needed him most. But now, standing here with Megumi, he realized that you hadn’t left him behind. You had left him something more precious than anything else—the love you shared, alive in your son.

As Megumi looked back at him, the shell still in his hand, Toji smiled. He walked toward him, crouching down to meet the boy’s gaze.

“You know,” Toji said, his voice soft, “your mom used to say you were her treasure in the sea.”

Megumi blinked, tilting his head slightly. “What does that mean?”

Toji reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Megumi’s face. “It means she loved you more than anything. She saw something special in you, something worth holding onto. And she was right.”

Megumi looked down at the shell in his hand, turning it over thoughtfully. “Do you miss her?”

Toji’s chest tightened, the familiar ache of loss rising to the surface. But for the first time in a long while, it didn’t feel so overwhelming. He glanced back at the sea, the horizon stretching out endlessly, just like the love that still connected them.

“Yeah,” Toji admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “I do. But you know what? I see her in you. Every day.”

Megumi’s eyes widened slightly, and he gave a small nod, as if trying to absorb the weight of his father’s words. They stood there in silence for a moment, the gentle sound of the waves filling the space between them. Toji pulled out the camera once more, capturing one last picture—Megumi standing at the shore, his small frame against the endless sea, the shell still clutched in his hand.

At that moment, Toji understood. Megumi was not just your treasure; he was your treasure. The love that both of you had poured into him, the love that endured, even when everything else had changed.

And now, standing beside his son, Fushiguro Toji felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

The peace only you could give him.

[megwritesriddles]

High for This ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Mike Schmidt x F! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 10 - High Sex. Tricked into attending a party, Mike runs into Reader, his old coworker. For old time's sake, they get high together, and lowered inhibitions mixed with suppressed feelings can only lead to one thing.

Tags: High Sex, Dubious consent (only because of the drugs, they're both totally into it), P in V, Unprotected sex, Drug use (weed), Alcohol use, Softdom!Mike, Praise kink, Mike being bad at feelings, Reunion, Fluff, Friends to lovers.

Word count: 4k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: Look... I've never been high so this might be super inaccurate... I did my research though!! Just felt I had to warn you!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Mike really didn’t want to be here. He had only dropped by Jeremiah’s place to pick up a DVD that Jeremiah had borrowed from him months ago and never bothered to return. He had even checked with Jeremiah earlier that day to see if it was cool that he dropped by. He wasn’t sure if it was sheer carelessness that Jeremiah had said he’d had nothing planned, or if he’d been duped into coming here. When he’d arrived, there’d been a suspicious amount of cars parked around. Mike should have turned around then, especially when he parked and could hear the tell-tale thumping of bass. But stupidly, he had headed inside to find a party getting started. Jeremiah, already a little tipsy and overenthusiastic, had roped him into staying. Annoyingly, he’d already told him Abby was away for the night, so didn’t have the excuse of having to get back to her.

“Man, there’s free beer, can you even afford to say no right now?” he’d chuckled, clapping Mike on the back. He’d had a point. So here he stood, in the corner of the kitchen, nursing a lukewarm beer bottle, clutching his DVD awkwardly. The party picked up around him, but every time he tried to make a break for the door, somehow Jeremiah spotted him and, without the energy to be reprimanded for his lack of social life, Mike would return to the kitchen. The music thumped in his ears from the living room, and a few people passed by him on occasion to get to the fridge. No one stopped to talk, but he didn’t mind, he didn’t know anyone here and didn’t much care to. 

Until he spots a familiar figure heading for the kitchen door. He squints. Could it really be? Well, you did also work with Jeremiah at the mall, so it's far from impossible. You approach, laughing at someone on the other side of the wall, saying you’ll only be a moment. Then you turn your head and spot him too. A grin spreads over your face and he smiles back sheepishly.

“Mike!” you gasp, heading over to him. He smiles back, setting his beer down to scratch at the back of his neck nervously.

“Hey, long time no see!” He chuckles. You laugh back, giving him a side hug, cradling a drink in your free hand. Mike returns the hug awkwardly, his hand lingering on the curve of your waist just a second too long, he hopes you don’t notice. You bring the small straw in your drink to your lips, sipping. 

“Where the hell have you been?”

You’d been his coworker when he’d worked at the mall. You’d worked at the information/help desk, which you always emphasised was a boring and tedious job, while he worked security. You’d met when a child had come to your desk to let you know they’d become separated from their parents. You’d called security to get someone to escort the kid and help look for their parents, Mike, only a week or two on the job at the time, was sent down. He’d immediately been a little taken with you, how tender you were assuring the kid that they’d be okay, the quirky way you’d customised your mall uniform to match your personal style, just something in the way you smiled. It hadn’t taken long to find the kid's parents, they came to your desk and you’d called him back over. You’d told him with a little smile that this happens often and that you’d probably be seeing a lot of each other. At the time, he’d just chuckled slightly and left. You hadn’t been wrong, he was surprised by the amount the two of you actually ended up working together. He liked you a lot, both platonically and… romantically? Or perhaps it was just lust. He was never good with feelings like that.

One day, he’d caught you smoking weed behind the mall on your break. You’d panicked, thinking since he was security he was going to turn you in. But he didn’t. He smoked too sometimes when he could scrape up the money, so he couldn’t judge you. It really helped him to feel less stressed, which was something he needed desperately. You’d ended up sharing your joint with him. He liked you even more. You were a good listener, something about you just made his problems feel solvable. You got high together quite a few times, just a little buzz on break behind the mall, or occasionally, when Abby was forced to stay at her aunt’s and Mike felt the pre-emptive stress for the little strops Abby would have when she got back, he’d go to your place and get high with you. Being with you had always made him feel good. You were an unapologetic person, never ashamed of yourself, something he certainly couldn’t relate to. You never judged him either. 

But then he got fired. You’d texted him the day of, asking him if everything was alright, but he’d been so angry at himself and the world that he’d ignored you. Every day after that he’d debated texting, but he didn’t, and every day that passed and he didn’t text, the thought had seemed more and more daunting. So, you never spoke again. Mike hated himself for it, he’d needed you, thousands of times over the past few months he’d needed you, but he hadn’t done anything about it.

“I uh…” he didn’t know what to say. He knew, if he was more emotionally intelligent, that he would admit the truth to you, that he’d needed you, but been too dumb to contact you, but his pride was in the way. “Just… been busy,” he grumbles, grabbing his beer off of the counter again. Your eyes flicker over his face as you sip your drink, you almost look hurt and Mike cringes at himself, but can’t seem to open his mouth to make it better.

“Got a new job yet?” you ask with a smile. You’re being sweet and polite, even though he’s been a total ass. He wants to hug you again, properly this time but instead grips his beer tighter. He doesn’t want to get into the whole Freddy’s debacle with you right now so he just shrugs. 

“Odd jobs here and there, I’m getting by,” he chews at his lip. You nod. “You?”

“Still at the mall, but now I’m the desk manager,” you chuckle, stirring your drink with your straw.

“Ooh, very fancy,” he smiles, genuinely happy for you. He goes silent for a moment, tense, feeling your eyes studying him.

“How are you holding up? Emotionally?” you ask, your tone suggesting that you know it’s not that well and that you also know he won’t tell you the truth.

“Better than I was,” he shrugs, picking at the label on the beer bottle, flicking a loose edge of it with his thumbnail. It’s not a lie, he’s certainly better now than he was while working at Freddy’s, and Abby is doing a whole lot better, which means he’s happier, but there’s still a lot missing from his life that he wishes was there. Like you. In what form? Mike doesn’t want to confront that. You slurp the last of your drink through the straw and then set the plastic cup down. He watches you from the corner of his eye. You look nice tonight, dressed in the quirky way you like, although everything is quirky compared to his style.

“Come with me,” you tell him and then turn, walking off without giving him the chance to contemplate. It’s probably for the best that he can’t overthink this. He downs his beer with a few big gulps, pulling a face. Then, he jogs until he catches up to you. You’re at the bottom of the stairs, smiling at him as he approaches, you turn, ascending the stairs. He shamefully watches your ass as he climbs the stairs behind you, he’s missed this view, as guilty as he feels about thinking so. You guide him into a bedroom and he raises his brows, but you head to the windowsill, cracking the window open and sitting on the ledge. He grins and shakes his head, he knows where this is going. He spots you pull out a joint as he tosses his DVD onto the side table. “Jeremiah would rather us do this in here than in his parent's room,”

“I missed you,” he finally admits as he sits across from you on the ledge, only able to do it under the guise of a joke. You give him a smile, one that tells him you see right through him.

“Who says I’m sharing?” you tease, placing it in your mouth to light it. You take a drag, blowing the smoke out of the window. He watches you, a little too intently. You pass him the joint and he mumbles a thanks, taking a drag. He tastes the sticky-sweet residue of your lipgloss, the taste igniting memories of other nights like this. He savours the taste more than he could ever admit, even to himself. 

“How’d you know which one was Jeremiah’s room?” he asks, chewing his lip, fearing the answer as he passes the blunt back, glancing around the room at the various photos of his friend. You give him a smile that makes his insides uncomfortable.

“I come to these parties a lot, just happened to have been in these rooms a few times,” he studies you, trying to gauge what he wants to know.

“With someone?” he asks nervously, watching your lips wrap around the joint. You inhale and then giggle out the smoke. 

“No, I like to find a quiet place to smoke alone, you’re my first,” you wink and he blushes. He knows you’re joking, but the thought of being special to you in some way makes him feel warm. You pass the joint back and forth for a while, a pleasant buzz settling over his brain. He watches you as you look out the window at the street, a little bit of the party had spilled out into the yard. “I was bummed to not hear from you,” you admit finally, turning your eyes to meet his. You don’t seem mad, just stating it as a fact. Mike swallows and nods. 

“I was being an idiot, I missed you,” he mumbles. You giggle and he laughs too, glad you’re not actually upset. “I’m always an idiot huh?” he chuckles, and you just smile lazily at him. He watches you move sluggishly over to Jeremiah’s bed, lying down with a happy sigh.

“These sheets are crazy soft, come feel,” you smile over at him. He swallows, his eyes tracing over your figure lying there. He follows you onto the bed, feeling like he is sinking into a cloud as he sits down. 

“Woah, you’re not joking,” he chuckles. He flops down against the pillows, feeling relaxed and a little sleepy. “I kinda wanna steal these,” he mumbles, pushing his hand into the plush material of the pillows. You’re watching him, smiling. He feels better than he has in a long time, both physically and mentally. Physically, he’s loose and relaxed, mentally, he’s with you again and you’re not mad, which feels like a blessing. Without thinking, he turns to you and pulls you into his arms, which makes you giggle again. “I’m so fucking glad you’re not mad at me,” he sighs. His head buzzes pleasantly, the smell of your perfume stronger than usual, making him moan slightly. You just giggle, holding him close. 

You fall into your regular routine, even after all these months. He starts to tell you about all that’s wrong in his life, and you somehow make it all feel alright. You believe in him like no one else does, especially when you’re high. You soothe him, being realistic but kind. The only difference from normal is that he has you held in his arms as you talk. Despite being high, he knows that this is abnormal and is silently unbelievably pleased that you’re letting him hold you. It makes you feel more real, especially after all this time that he’s only been seeing you in dreams. Your skin is soft under his fingers, and your hair is a pleasant thing to fidget with. You have a similar idea, playing with the fabric of his hoodie sleeve. He likes it, he feels closer to you than ever, physically and emotionally. He vows never to ignore you again, he knows he needs this in his life. He listens as you talk about your life, feeling pleasantly calm. You seem to be doing well which makes him glad, he tells you so and you say he’s sweet. It makes him feel warmer. The two of you giggle over a funny story you tell and then go quiet, staring at each other. You smile sweetly and he returns it. He sits up to take off his hoodie, feeling warm. You watch him silently as he reveals a tight white t-shirt underneath, tossing his hoodie carelessly. He catches your eye and chuckles. “What?”

“You look good,” you smile hazily. “You been working out?” He feels his cheeks heat up a little.

“Well, lots of free time and negative energy, best thing I could do with myself,” he explains slowly, lying back down beside you, his arms wrapping back around you. Something feels a little different now, but not in a bad way, you smile at each other again. 

“Well, it suits you,” you giggle. He smiles and squeezes you lightly, making you titter even louder. When your laughing dies back down again, you look up at him through your lashes, he feels the shift in your demeanour somewhere deep in his belly. “You ever made out with someone while high?” you ask quietly. He hums in amusement.

“No, I usually get high alone, or with you, I suppose. Why? Is it nice?” You giggle at him.

“Oh Mike, it’s the best, it’s just so… everything is more intense and pleasurable. A nice slow makeout session while high, perfection,” you exhale the last word, your eyes fluttering shut as you picture it. He watches you, curious and a little excited. Are you suggesting that the two of you make out? It’s been a while since he’s kissed anyone, and to kiss you…

“You wanna?” he suggests, his inhibitions lowered by the weed. He expects you to react a little, even if you were going to agree in the end. He doesn't expect you to just open your eyes and whisper a soft 'yes'. He's momentarily a little shocked, but the buzz of the weed dampens the feeling, making him chuckle instead. He pulls you a little closer, his arms tightening around your middle. "Me too," he mumbles before he leans forward and meets your lips with his own. The feeling of your soft lips against his sends a pleasant jolt through his whole body, the feeling heightened. He's hyperaware of every little movement of you against him as you come closer, your hand settling onto his neck. Your lips meld together slowly and he sighs. You were right, it really does feel good, better than any other kiss he's had before. Although, that might be down to you more than the high. His hand threads into your hair, cupping the back of your head to keep you close. You both part your mouths at the same time, the kiss becoming deeper as your tongues press against each other. The kiss is slow but all-consuming, sensual in the best ways. You both let out soft little moans. Mike's hand ventures down to gently squeeze at the flesh of your ass, making you moan louder and kiss him a little harder. He feels hazy, the only clear thing in the world right now is your body against his. He continues to knead your ass as you kiss leisurely. He gently sucks on your lower lip, the feeling of it making you squirm. You both chuckle. You tilt your head to the other side and kiss him again. Both of his hands move down to your rear, squeezing and massaging like he's always dreamed of doing. Your tongues slide slowly against each other, lips pressing together. It's blissful and you feel even higher than before because of it. The slow press of your lips to his makes you feel dizzy with lust.

"Fuck, I'm so wet," you breathe against his lips. He shivers and hums. 

"Yeah baby?" he teases, leaving wet open-mouthed kisses down your neck. You tilt your head back and moan softly. He shifts his hips so they press against you, letting you know he's similarly affected by your unhurried make-out. You feel warm all over, heat pooling especially in your lower belly, each press of his lips making it worse. You reach down, flicking open the button of his jeans. His hips stutter slightly and he pulls back to look at you, pupils blown wide.

"Ever had high sex?" you suggest. He chuckles in disbelief as you slide his jeans down, giving a harsher grab to your ass. 

"You little vixen," he groans jokingly as you squeeze him through his boxers. You both giggle lowly, eyes full of lust as you stare at each other. He presses his lips back to yours, kissing needily, but still nice and slow. His hands trail up, then down into the waistband of your pants. He cups your ass, moaning softly at the feeling of your bare skin. It drives him crazy to feel you like this. Then, doing what he'd intended to initially, he slides your pants down. You sluggishly kick them off, your lips not leaving his. You help him out of his boxers and he springs free, hard and eager. You giggle.

"I didn't know you were so well-endowed, Schmidt," you tease. He grins, his hand drifting to the back of your thigh, hooking your leg around his hip. You both moan softly as you press against each other.

"Fuck... you weren't lying about being wet, huh?" he chuckles breathlessly, groaning as he rocks his hips against you. His cock rubs against your clit deliciously, making you sigh and wrap your arms around him. Your lips meet again, relaxed and sloppy, his hips leisurely rolling against you. His hand slides back up to knead your rear again. "Love this perfect ass," he groans against your lips, gripping it greedily. You hum in response, feeling as he uses his grip on you to pull you even closer. Your mind is full of a lustful haze, all that matters is Mike.

"Need you inside," you mewl softly. He sucks on your bottom lip again. 

"I need that too," he holds you still by your thigh, looking down, shifting until he's pressing against your entrance. You moan. He slowly and carefully rocks into you, the feeling of you so tight and warm around him making him almost dizzy with pleasure. You both pant, holding each other close, maintaining lust-filled eye contact. You tighten your leg over his hip, forcing him just a little deeper, making you whimper. "You alright baby?" he asks hazily, rubbing your back. You let out a puff of air, nodding. He kisses you again, open-mouthed and reassuring. Your eyes drift shut as he starts to gently rock against you. He groans into your mouth, gripping your thigh harder. "So perfect for me, good girl" he praises, making you moan. He pushes slowly in and then withdraws, making sure to drag delectably against your walls as he does it. You both pant needily, your fingers tightening into his shoulders. "Needed you for so long," he whispers, speeding up slightly in his movements, but still keeping it slow and gentle. You nod, burying your face into his shoulder. He holds you close, rocking softly, listening to your faint whines and moans, filling him with primal satisfaction. "That's it, let me know how it feels baby," he coaxes. You whine a little louder in response and he groans at the sound. "That's my girl," he coos, kissing your neck gently, his pace never faltering. You squirm a little, his words affecting you deeply, making you pant harder against his shoulder. The pleasure clouds your mind completely, leaving you a needy mess in his arms. He feels much the same, though he's better at keeping himself together, for you. 

"M-more," you plead softly. He nods, starting to gently suckle on the skin of your neck, rocking a little faster and deeper. You let out a choked moan against his shoulder, he responds in kind, grunting with each thrust he gives you. You moan wantonly, not thinking in your haze to try and keep quiet, your body pressing itself as close as possible to him. His hand slides up and down your back mindlessly, the other holding you in place by your thigh, squeezing hard enough to leave marks. His thrusts become deeper and more powerful, making you tremble and gasp.

"Taking me so well, just let me make you feel good, doing so well baby," he coos, feeling as you're tightening around him. You whimper and he smiles, giving a particularly powerful thrust. You both whine at the feeling. All the heightened sensations build to a crescendo and you know your orgasm is rapidly approaching. He holds you still as your body tries to writhe and fucks you, more determined than ever before. Your vision goes blank as white-hot pleasure washes over you, you clench and release around his cock, trembling and whining, nails digging into him. "That's it, good girl baby, just hold on," he chokes out, speeding his thrusts up desperately, chasing his release before your overstimulation sets in. You whimper in his arms, feeling your whole body jolting with each push of his hips, squeezing around him every few seconds as you ride out your orgasm. He gasps shakily before letting out a drawn-out groan, pumping you full of his cum. You move your lips onto his and he kisses you hard, his whole body tense and shivering as he basks in the feeling you've given him, his nails scratching lightly against the skin of your back. He fucks his cum into you slowly before you're both too sensitive and he withdraws gently, making you both shiver. You feel the warm liquid sliding down onto the inside of your thighs, your head spinning slightly in the best way. He releases his death grip on your thigh, moving it down from his hip and soothing his palm over the nail marks there in an apology, not that you care about them. You melt into a puddle in his arms, letting him hold you and pet your hair. You know you need to clean yourself up, but you can't bear the thought of leaving his warm arms. He kisses down from your temple to your jaw. "That was amazing baby, you were right, never felt better," he purrs. You giggle.

"You better not disappear again after this," you mumble, holding him close. He shakes his head vehemently. 

"God no, baby, I never should have disappeared in the first place, I didn't even want to. I could never do it after what we just did, I'm an ass, but not that much of an ass, okay?" he promises, kissing everywhere he can reach, your cheeks, your shoulders, your collarbones. "Plus I... was kinda hoping this meant we were dating now?" he asks sheepishly, a far cry from his more dominant self only moments ago. "I mean, I guess... maybe this was just a hookup to you, I suppose we never defined--"

"Yeah, yeah, we're dating," you chuckle sleepily. He smiles wide, pulling you on top of him. With you here, at this moment, he no longer has the feeling that something is missing in his life. You nuzzle into his neck. "Think Jeremiah will let us crash here?" you murmur, feeling blissful and exhausted.

"Oh shit! Jeremiah..." Mike's body goes tense, glancing around the room, remembering where you are. You've smoked weed in his room and now there's cum on his bedsheets. He laughs and you laugh too. "He's gonna fucking kill me,"

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

xoxoxo

[therealcocoshady]

So I was thinking if you’re taking requests maybe a Em x reader where she’s plus size, they’ve been friends for a while and someone makes a comment making fun of her weight or how Em would never be with someone like her & reader overhears Em’s confession/response? In need for a happy ending type of fic.

Kinktober - Day 20 - Size Difference

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : thank you for your request ! I think it fights right with the Kinktober Day 20 prompt, which is « Size Difference ». I hope you enjoy it 💕.

CW : Size difference - Plus sized reader - Fluff

The dining room was warm and buzzing with laughter and chatter as the evening settled into its comfortable rhythm. Marshall sat beside you, leaning back with that familiar, laid-back posture, fingers idly tapping the edge of his glass as he listened to some story being told across the table. You felt a flicker of contentment just sitting beside him, enjoying the moment. You loved a good dinner party : great food and good company. It was even better when Marshall was around : his humor and playful remarks were always the cherry on the cake. The two of you had been friends for years, your bond built on banter and that magnetic, unspoken understanding. There was a spark, sure, but you had always kind of danced around it, knowing it was always there, like a half-breath between you. It was playful and fun but, at the end of the day, he was him and you were, well, you. And even though you sometimes thought of how great it might be if the friendship turned into something more, you were simply grateful to be in his presence.

At one point during the dinner, you excused yourself to step outside, needing a breath of fresh air and maybe just a moment alone. As you headed for the balcony, you didn’t realize that your absence would become the focal point of a conversation you’d never intended to overhear. Marshall was taking a sip of his drink when he heard one of his friends, that you had not crossed paths with too often, chuckle, glancing toward the door you had just passed through.

“So, uh, what’s the deal between you and Y/N?” the guy asked, with that tone that conveyed his thought on your friendship, probably deeming unlikely. After all, most people wouldn’t expect one of the most successful rappers to be such good friends with a female, much less one that did not look like a Victoria’s Secret model. Marshall’s brow furrowed at the question. “We’ve been friends for a while. Why?” The guy shrugged, giving a half-smile. “Nothing, man. I’m just surprised. Thought you’d go for, you know…” He motioned vaguely with his hand. “Someone more your…size.”

Marshall’s eyes narrowed, but the guy kept going, oblivious. “Look, she's nice, sure, but I mean— she might get the wrong idea and think there’s something there. And, well, she’s not exactly…. In your league, you know what I’m saying?” A heaviness dropped in your chest. You didn’t mean to overhear a conversation you were obviously not privy to. You could feel your eyes starting to burn. How humiliating. You’d left your seat for a minute and people were making fun of you. Right when you thought you were having a great time. You stayed on the balcony, looking away, pretending not to hear anything, hoping the conversation would end soon, so that you could go back to your seat and pretend that nothing happened. You didn’t see Marshall glance toward the balcony door. “Yeah,” Marshall said, his tone cold, “you’re right.”

You could feel your heart drop. Of course you knew that Marshall was out of your league. Anyone could see that. And you knew he knew it too. But to hear him acknowledge it, as simple as that, it still hurt. You would have hoped he’d at least defend you and say what a great friend you were. You could feel a lump form in your throat, before he continued. “She’s way out of my league.” Marshall’s voice softened as he glanced back toward the balcony door. “She’s the kind of woman who’s smart and hilarious, who’s real and doesn’t fake a damn thing. She’s gorgeous and incredible and—well, you wouldn’t get it. Someone like her?” He paused, letting the words sink in. “She’d never go for someone like me.”

The guy stammered, clearly at a loss for words. “But I mean, what is it that you actually see in her?” Marshall shook his head, a glint of disbelief in his eyes as he looked his friend square in the face. “What do I see in her?” He gave a small laugh. “Everything. I mean, have you seen her?”

You thought you were about to cry from the humiliation, but then you heard Marshall’s voice, steady and honest, filling in every corner of doubt she’d ever had. By the time he finished, your cheeks felt hot. There was a moment of silence and you decided to come back. You took a deep breath, calming your nerves, and approached the table, quietly slipping back into your seat beside him. Marshall glanced over, flashing her that signature, knowing smile, like you were his favorite person to see across the room. The conversation switched to another topic, moving on to some workplace gossip.

Without a word, you reached under the table and found his hand. His fingers stilled for a beat, then curled around yours, his thumb tracing a gentle pattern on your skin, like he’d been waiting for this moment as much as you had. He looked over, and your eyes met, a silent understanding passing between you, deeper than words. “Out of your league, huh?” You whispered, your voice a mixture of teasing and something softer, more serious. He squeezed your hand gently, his demeanor oddly calm though you could see a flicker of anticipation in his eyes. “Way, way out of my league,” he murmured, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face.

You both focused on the table conversation, but neither of you could actually keep your attention from straying to the connection between your hands, fingers gently toying and tracing each other. Every once in a while, Marshall’s thumb would brush across your knuckles, a delicate and unhurried stroke that sent little shivers up your arm. You bit your lip, suppressing a smile, feeling your cheeks warm under the subtle, unspoken affection radiating from him. At one point, he leaned back casually, still holding your hand beneath the table, and threw in one of his usual sarcastic comments at something one of your friends said. But as he spoke, he lightly drew circles against your palm, his fingers grazing yours with a mix of playfulness and tenderness. It felt like a secret only the two of you shared, a silent language spoken in touch instead of words. You risked a glance at him, your eyes catching his for the briefest moment. He was mid-sentence, but when he saw you look, he shot you a crooked smile, raising one eyebrow in that mischievous way of his. He gave your hand another gentle squeeze, like he was saying, ‘I’ve got you.’

Your friends seemed oblivious, absorbed in their own conversations, while you and Marshall seemed to exist in your own bubble, a world of hidden smiles and quiet gestures. With each minute that passed, your confidence in this unspoken connection grew, and your touches became bolder. His hand slipped down to your wrist, feeling the steady rhythm of your pulse, while you traced your fingertips along the callouses on his, each touch a little thrill that left you wanting more. By dessert, you were leaning in just a little closer, your shoulder brushing his as you exchanged quick, playful whispers and comments about the evening’s conversations. The closeness of him, the warmth of his hand in yours, all made your heart pound in a way that was intoxicating.

Finally, as the evening wound down, people beginning to gather coats and say goodbyes, Marshall gave your hand one last squeeze, holding your gaze in a look that spoke volumes. As you stepped into the elevator, the doors sliding shut, the quiet tension that had been building all night seemed to close in around you. The moment you were alone, it was as though the air became charged, the silence between the two of you suddenly thick with every unspoken word and lingering look you’d shared at the dinner table.

You leaned back against the wall of the elevator, your breath catching as Marshall took a step closer. His gaze roamed over you, clearly taking in the way your dress hugged your curves, accentuating every line, every dip. He looked at you like he couldn’t tear his eyes away if he tried, and your pulse quickened, your body responding to the heat in his stare. He raised a hand, his fingers brushing along your cheek, trailing down to your jaw, gentle but deliberate. His voice was a low, warm rumble, barely above a whisper. “You’re so damn gorgeous, you know that?” You felt your cheeks flush, your lips parting, but before you could say anything, his mouth was on your, soft but insistent. The kiss was slow at first, like he was savoring every second, his hand slipping around to the back of your neck, holding you close as he deepened the kiss.

Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie as you pulled him closer, letting yourself get lost in the feeling of his mouth against yours, the warmth of his body pressing into you. She could taste the faint hint of Diet Coke on his lips, feel the steady beat of his heart against your fingertips, and it made your head spin. Marshall’s hands slid down, resting on your hips, pulling you against him, his touch possessive yet tender. His lips moved to your jaw, then to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that made you melt against him, your breath coming quicker with each soft, lingering touch. “You have no idea…” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with desire. “No idea how beautiful you are.”

His hand traced down your side, following the curve of your waist, fingers exploring every dip and line as though committing you to memory. You arched into him, your own hands roaming up to his shoulders, feeling the strength in him, the tension just beneath the surface. When he looked at you again, his eyes were filled with an intensity that made your knees weak. He brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb grazing your cheek as he leaned in once more, capturing your mouth in another kiss that was deeper, needier. The world outside the elevator ceased to exist; there was only the warmth of his touch, the soft hum of the elevator, and the way he made you feel, like you were the only woman in the world.

[cryptic--writing]

Hiya 👋🏻

It’s not really a kinktober request, but maybe you’ll consider doing it? No pressure though))

Ajaf era James, where he was drinking a lot. He understands that that affects him and turns him into a monster. He’s afraid he’s going to hurt reader, but he can’t break up with her for her safety, he loves her too much. So he comes up with stupid plan of making her break up with him because of his behavior? So he starts to undermine her efforts, e.g. the meals she cooks “could have been better”; makes fun of her simple 9-5 job , saying that’s she lucky she can have a relaxed job cause he’s earning most of the money and covering the bills. Although she’s hurt, she is staying as she loves him and thinks it’s the alcohol talking. James, realizing his plan doesn’t work, makes the final move: after they have sex one evening, he tells her that groupies do a much better job. That’s too much for her to take so she leaves him.

Unfortunately, after break up he feels even worse. Lars is worried so he interrogates him, and drunken James confesses. So Lars finds reader and locks her in the studio with James for them to reconcile (can we have smut here)?

Few weeks later when they start recording black album, James plays her a song (which will become nothing else matters), saying that it’s his way of telling everyone how much she means to him?

I’m sorry I can’t write short asks 🥲🥲🥹🥹

You are a great writer so I really hope this will become a story 🙏🏻

hihi!

and omg its here. took me 9 days to write it lmao but yeah

i cant explain how much I loved this idea pls marry me annon

also ~~~ means POV change (yes there is James and reader pov)

this fic has legit everything so I hope y'all enjoy it bc I busted my ass on it

some parts may be confusing idk

anyways

word count: 10623

warnings: mentions of achohol/drugs, death is mentioned, toxic relationship, break up, angst, smut, fluff, I'm prob forgetting smth

OR SO I THOUGHT (1989)

It had been a rough couple months with James. I felt determined to help him with his only worsening alcoholism, though he only continued to shut me out. I could feel the guilt when he was around, but it didn't make him stop. I tried, I really did, encouraging him to talk to me, to help me help him. 

It was the same sad scene every night. James would come home, probably around midnight, and I couldn't sleep without him next to me, so I was up, all those hours, wondering as I tossed and turned as to where he might be. All I knew is I was in for a scary time when he got back, but I eventually grew tough skin to deal with this.  Understood that this wasn't safe for me, or him, and I stressed that so, so much to him, but James never understood. Well, he never told me he did. Maybe there was more going on in his heart I never knew about. But, of course, I could never discover as he would always close himself off so much.

It was another day where the cycle would repeat. I woke up at three am to the sound of James stumbling in, mumbling something under his breath before he plopped down on the bed beside me, and I knew well enough to hold my tongue, to not provoke him. I pretended I was asleep, which he believed, trying, or at least I think he was trying, to snuggly up next to me, but he had his back to me. His arms weren't around me. Maybe that's all I yearn for now, to be loved and held.

Once I could finally go back to sleep, I was awoken not much later by the sound of my blaring alarm. It was seven am, time to get ready for work. James is a heavy sleeper, he never woke up from my alarms, though I always rushed to turn them off, just in case they would wake him. Slipping out of bed with a groan, I observed his sprawled out body, his shoes still on. I'm glad he made it to the bed this night, as others he would end up on the couch, or in his car, or somewhere I had no idea of.

I pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, like a mother caring for her ill son on a school day. I slipped off his shoes, trying to get him more comfortable. I scurried towards the closet to grab my work clothes for the day before getting changed in the bathroom and rummaging through our medicine cabinet, finding some pain killers and then getting him a cold glass of water, leaving the items on our bedside table. I paused to watch over him as he slept, his slow, steady breaths that rose and fell from his chest. I loved him too much to change this lifestyle. I loved every part of him, and if this was part of him, then so be it. I'll help him get better. He loves every part of me, no matter what, right?

Or so I thought.

I slipped on my heels, walking into our messy kitchen, the sink filled with unwashed dishes James was supposed to do. But, he isn't well, so I must do them for him. After washing the dishes, I brewed coffee, poured myself a cup and left some for him and began to make breakfast. James had been off lately, different to how he already was off, but that slowly became part of our normal, so one new change did not stick out too much, but this one did. I don't know what it is. He just felt… lifeless, cold, I guess. I decided to make one of his favorite breakfast meals, a nice, warm and fluffy stack of pancakes with eggs and bacon, cooked just the way he liked it. I spent extra time trying to make it the best I had. I knew they would probably be cold by the time he woke up, but hopefully he'd appreciate my effort. I ate some eggs before scrambling for a notepad, getting a pen to write him a sweet good morning note, explaining I was at work, when I'd be home, how much I loved him, and where the other meds were if he needed them. I wrote these notes almost daily, but this one I made longer and more love filled. I figured he would want my love.

Or so I thought.

I came home around six pm, the evening traffic being worse than usual. Instead of seeing James' car out of the driveway and the house dark, he was still home. The soft sound of the TV buzzing was easy to hear as I unlocked the door, walking in to see him on the couch, leaning against the couch arm and holding his head up with his hand. He was too engrossed in whatever he was watching to nice me walk in, so I tried to have him notice my presence.

“Im back, Jamie,” I said softly to not startle him, my voice filled with love as I moved to sit next to him, he looked over at me, like a confused puppy. “How are you feeling?” I asked, gently stroking his back, though he moved from my touch.

“Oh, hi. Yeah, I'm fine. Busy right now, yeah?” He mumbled as a response as he resumed watching TV once more, brushing me off with his simple, cold words. I knew I had to respect his space and not probe at him, so I just nodded with a sigh and got up, slipping off my shoes and setting my bags down,

“Are you hungry?” I asked, digging through the fridge to get things to make dinner. He didn't answer. “James, are you hungry? I can make dinner,” I offered again, noticing the cleared plate that I had made him for breakfast, the note missing. I assumed he threw it away, just like the others. I never saw them in the trash cans, but after everything piles up, you can just assume. I heard James sigh from the couch, “Uh, yeah, sure, whatever. Breakfast was cold, so I threw most of it away anyways,” He admitted, and I felt a small ache in my heart. I thought he liked the dish since there was none left on his plate, but clearly he proved me different. Why I even put effort in these things, I don't know. THats a lie, I do. I love him, and want him to know it, to feel it. I should’ve been doing this as part of my own insecurities, but to make sure he knows I'm there for him, always.

I thought of what to make for dinner, seeing if he had eaten anything since breakfast, only finding empty beer bottles and a half eaten bag of chips. It was probably only the alcohol making him act like this. I decided to make steak with potatoes, something he normally liked and said I made pretty well. It was easy to make, and I know it was one of his favorites I made him, but normally I would wait for a bigger step in life, like celebrating something about the band, or something in my career, but I knew he deserved it still.

I finished after 45 minutes, preparing the plate to be gorgeous, something I wish I could hear from his lips for once. But, he loved me. I know he thinks I'm gorgeous, he wouldn't have to tell me. Right?

“Jamie, the food's ready, I made steak,” I said warmly with a smile, setting a dinner table for us. I didn't get a response, just a grunt as he stood from the couch and walked his near empty bottle of beer, finishing it off and grabbing another from the fridge. I sat at the table, waiting for him to come and join me. His eyes landed on the plate, pulling out the chair to sit down. I couldn't read his emotions, he didn't look too happy, but he didn't look mad. He just looked.. plain. James grabbed his fork and began to eat, the metal scraping against the porcelain plate, waiting for his nod of approval. It never came. He didn't talk, but not in a way like he was mad. He just didn't speak. But he didn't need to, he didn't need to say the things I knew already. I took a breath and began to eat, and it might've been one of the best I had cooked in awhile. Perfect tenderness, juiciness, seasoning, and cooked perfectly, something you could get at a restaurant, now in our home. 

“What do you think, baby? I think it's pretty good, no?” I inquired, seeking the validation I craved from him. He just shrugged.

“It's fine, I guess. It could've been better.”

It shouldn't have hurt. It really shouldn't. He just didn't like the dinner I cooked. The dinner I poured my time into. The dinner I made was special. Special for him. But, what did I know? I doubt he meant it. That's why it definitely shouldn't have hurt. He was drinking. ITs just the alcohol making him act like this. He would never say something like that to me. Why did tears prick at my eyes. Why did it actually hurt?

“Oh, uhm…. I'm sorry, I'll do better next time, do you want me to make you something else..?” I choked out, fighting back my tears.

“No, don't waste your time making something mediocre, yeah?” James insisted, insulting me bitterly once again.

I took a shaky breath, another sting to my heart. Hes. Drunk. This can't be what he means, right?

Or so I thought.

“Alright, uh, do you wanna cuddle on the couch..? We can watch anything you want? Or not watch anything, just sit together.” I offered again, pleading to get love from my partner.

“I was probably gonna go to bed. You mind cleaning up?” He pushed me away again, and every word stung. I want him to see me, to notice me, just to love me. But I reminded myself again and again, he's drunk, he doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean it. I'm just being sensitive and pathetic. Maybe it's just my hormones.

I nodded, forcing a smile, “Sure, yeah, go ahead and  go to bed, I'll clean up and join you in a bit, ok?” I informed him and he just nodded and got up, walking to the bedroom, still carrying his battle with him. My eyes stung, and once he was out of sight, I felt tears streak my face, but I continued to fight them away. I quickly got up to clear James’ and my own plate, then  cleaning the kitchen, washing everything with great care to keep it tidy.

I came into the bedroom, James half asleep under the sheets. His hair was astray as he slept near the edge, his limbs tight together. The now empty beer bottle sat on the nightstand, another reminder of James’ habits. I glanced around before getting changed into my sleep clothes, a nice little night dress James had gotten me for Valentines Day earlier that year. It was nice and pink with some fluffy pieces at the bottom and lace dancing across it. It flowed nicely and hugged my body in the right places, going down to a bit above my knees. It had some other pieces, like stockings and a garter. In reality, it was more so lingerie than a bed set. But, it was one of James’ favorites for me to wear. Maybe this would make him open up more, or just show me the love I'm craving. I crawled in beside him, though I doubt he noticed the weight accompanying him, trying to cuddle closer, pressing myself against his back.

“Jamie?” I asked softly, kissing the back of his head.

“Hm.” James answered in a sleepy tone, barely aware of my presence.

“You doing ok? You've been acting differently…” I kept a quiet tone, my hands gently running down his arms and back as I pondered on what may be hurting him so much.

He took a deep and large breath, sighing, “Yeah, I'm fine… why do you ask..?” James mumbled in response.

“Nothing, you just seem off, I guess,” I rushed out. I didn't want to upset him, but he just seemed so soft and sweet, something I hadn't seen from him awhile.

“Oh, well, alright then… love you..” He mumbled out, slowly succumbing to sleep after saying the words I knew were true.

Or so I thought.

The office today was exhausting. Absurdly exhausting. And infuriating. A stuck up and snotty boss whos full of himself ordering me around to do his mundane dirty work, my co workers giving me side glances of judgment for my more rushed than normal appearance, not having as much time this morning as I had to help James with yet another hangover, getting him to the bathroom in time before he painted our bed green in vomit, making him some foods to keep him comfortable and having to buy more pain killers, my 3rd trip this month, all before heading to work. All I wanted was to come home, sleep, relax, and be held by the love of my life. 

As simple as an office job 9-5 may seem, how it is not. No one else wants to do their own work, always needing some kind of assistance, and of course, I none the wiser, agree to help them.

It was another late evening with heavy traffic, not allowing me to come home until seven, again. I had stopped at the market, grabbing food and other supplies we were running low on. And more beer. 

The door to the house was locked, something that had been happening more and more as I came home, only growing worries on James' worsening habits, the idea of drugs coming to mind, but I tried to shake it from my head, just wanting a nice time at home. 

I unlocked the door, the house quiet except for the soft strum of a guitar in James’ mini studio, which was just an extra bedroom we had turned into a spot for him to store his instruments and for his practeing. We hoped one day for it to become a nursery, a room for our future child.

I followed the music, the half open door allowing me to peek at James, hunched over one of his explorers, fiddling with the strings as he danced around the fretboard with his talented fingers. I smiled at the sweet sight, slowly entering the room.

“Whatcha working on?” I asked, announcing my arrival home. James looked up at me, at first a smile on his face, but he quickly dropped it. His actions only confused me further.

“Uhm, not much, just… a couple riffs and stuff for the new album..” He answered, still picking at the strings with something unreadable in his eyes.

I nodded, smiling at him, “It sounds good, I'm excited to hear it,” I responded before speaking again, “Work was so exhausting today, I don't know how I put up with it anymore,” I said with a laughy sigh, trying to lighten the statement.

James just shrugged. “I mean, I don't really see how a nine to five can really be that tiring,” He disputed, but his tone sounded unsure, shaky like how it did when we first met. But there was a force, an anger of some kind.

I was even more lost with his shift in attitude, “Well, what do you mean? You don't work one, you wouldn't know,” I argued back with more aggression than I meant.

“Yeah, I don't work one. Your job is light and relaxing feather work compared to the shit I do. You are out doing twelve hours a day for months on end at a studio, being out for a year just to tour and shit, you don't make anything working that job, I'm the one paying the bills with my money.” James spat, cold and bitter. His words rung in my ears, repeating each syllable like a painful stab. My brain scrambled for reasons to understand his reaction and response to my complaint of work.

James' piercing blue eyes still starred up and me, my mouth agape in shock. Why would he act like this? He loved me. He just told me he did the other week before we went to bed. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. What is wrong in his life that I don't know about, that he wont tell me about.

My eyes scanned the room, searching for anything that might explain this behavior of his. Truly, anything that would help explain such a swift and sudden change in his mood, but deep down ZI knew, I was just looking for bottles, cans, cups, glasses, anything that would contain the fizzy and bitter liquid he loved. The only thing I could find was a half empty bottle, freshly opened next to the chair he sat in. That's it, that's why he's acting like this. He's just drunk. He doesn't mean it. He doesn't mean it.

Or so I thought.

Even with my new found reasoning, his words still hurt a great amount, the pain struggling to leave. A simple insult, just telling me how I don't work as hard as him, that my job isn't as crucial as his. I took a breath, trying to control and reign in my emotions before I could meltdown in front of him for such a stupid reason. Drunken words, not filled or backed by any true thoughts. Right?

But they do say drunk words are sober thoughts.

“I- well,” I tried to speak, but I couldn't come up with the words. What would I say? I didn't want to make him any more upset than he seemed to be, but I didn't want to submit to him so easily, especially after such disrespect. But I knew better. I don't lash out, I keep him happy. We will work this out together, we have to.

“I'm just gonna go to bed,” I muttered under my breath, fighting back tears that needed to spill out, James rude comments only adding fuel to the fire that had been burning in me all day. Not a fire of anger, passion or desire, but a fire of hurt. Once I shut the bedroom door behind me silently, I broke. The bottle shattered, and my tears overflowed my face, covering my mouth as I cried, trying to calm myself down as I got ready for bed at such an early hour, even forgetting to make James something for dinner.

It was my day off, a relaxing Saturday I could use to have some me time, as James was gonna be out with the band all day as the brainstormed for the new album, which was still taking its baby steps into production, nowhere near any concept for songs yet. At Least that I knew of. 

James had been really tense this week, and I had tried everything to get him to relax and cheer up. Taking him out to his favorite restaurants after I came home, making him home cooked meals, getting him gifts and all things. Though there was one thing I hadn't tried. Sex.

I spent all day dolling myself up, wanting to be as bare and beautiful as possible for James. I shaved everywhere, leaving not a single trace of hair anywhere except for my head,, of course. I scrubbed every nook and cranny of my body, putting on James’ favorite set we bought together, doing my makeup just the way he liked it, lighting the candles he got for my birthday, and dousing myself in his favorite perfume I owned. All the lights were out, except for the lowlights of the candles in the bedroom. I laid on the mattress, waiting for James to come home, hoping this would finally get him to unwind from his stress.

I heard James’ keys jingle in the door, and I could feel myself getting more and more excited for his arrival. This would be one of the few times I would have him sober, as when they worked on material they rarely drank or did anything crazy, thankfully. His shoes thudded on the wooden floors, a sigh escaping his lips as I heard him slowly walk towards the bedroom.

“Are you home?” He called out to me before approaching the bedroom door, taking in the sight of me and the room I had spent the evening preparing for this moment.

“Hey baby,” I mused with a smirk, looking up at him with loving eyes. His eyes met mine, looking warm for the first time in awhile.

“What's all this for?” He asked,  still taking in the well decorated bedroom and my sexy form.

“Wanted to help you relax… you've been so stressed,” I replied, grabbing his hand to try and bring him closer, to get into the bed with me.

It didn't take much more conniving, and James had given in pretty quickly to my offer. He was being more loud than normal, probably because we hadn't had the chance to be intimate like this in awhile. I loved this so much. Well, I loved being close to James again. He wasn't hitting the right spots or focussing on pleasuring me much, but that's fine, he's the one who needed to relax anyways, and I have enough time on my hands if I wanted to please myself, I guess. It didn't take long for him to come, pulling out and painting himself on my abdomen and my breath labored, coming down from…. Well, not an orgasm, but being close to one. James was beat after that, and I don't blame him for that. He had been so busy recently, I was happy we just got to share a moment like this together again. 

I laid close to him under the sheets as we both recovered, James already half asleep. I had his hand in mine, kissing each knuckle of his and more, pouting all of my love into that moment. I looked up, having felt James’ eyes on me for a while. I met his blues, and there was a slight guilt in them, a gestation and regret. But, it didn't last long as he blinked it all away, taking another breath. 

“How are you feeling now? Did it make it any better?” I asked, my voice heavy with sleep as I lazily continued to press kisses to his hand.

“I mean, yeah, I guess… It wasn't like, amazing though… I've had better, normally the groupies can do a bit more than that, y’know?” James said cooly, acting as if the words he just said didn't mean anything and had no weight to them.

“What?” Was all I could muster out, the tears already filling my eyes as I tried to process all of this.

“You heard me, the groupies normally do better.” 

The words came so normally from his mouth, as if he was just telling me the date and time. But no, he was comparing me to prostitutes, previous women he has slept with. I began to cry, not just out of hurt and sadness, but this time anger. How could he say something like that to me?

And then the worst part hit.

He was sober.

Something I would've wanted more than anything else just a few days ago is now what is causing this experience to be even worse than it is with the horrible comparison and insults James had spewn at me. He meant it. Alcohol was toying with his brain, making him into the aggravated man I had grown to know quite well over the years.

“Are… are you serious? After everything? I put myself through hell to deal with this, to go to work, to do EVERYTHING for you! I have tried so hard James. And Yet you still compare me to them?! Sluts with prices on their heads?!” I cried, anger and hurt filling the fire in my eyes, and I could swear I saw Jamw\es’ cold attitude falter for just a moment. Maybe it was what I was hoping for, that it was all an act, that he truly did love me deep down, but maybe he didn't. Maybe this is the truth I had been hiding from all these months.

James didn't res;ond, just sighing with a shrug.

That's what pushed me over the edge.

“Are you fucki ng serious? You're not even gonna try and fight for this? Get out of here! We're done. Since you don't appreciate anything I do for you nowadays, I don't want you in here anymore. Pack your shit and leave.” I cursed at him as I continued to sob, processing the moments that passed, feeling as if the earth was slowing, each second hitting me hard and heavy.

I could see a slight guilt in James’ eyes, and as much I wanted to believe it was true, I couldn't give it in myself to do that anymore. I couldn't keep living this lie. He nodded, staying silent as I cried, slipping on his clothes and grabbing some things he'd need for the night.

“I loved you because you loved me, or so I thought you loved me, truly you don't give a shit!” I called out again, hearing James breath hitch at my harsh words, but he just left. No goodbye, the final words spoken to us only filled with hate and hurt, though millions went unspoken.

— —- — —> A FEW MONTHS LATER…

Not a lot has happened since I broke up with James, but a lot has changed. Maybe for the better. I miss him terribly, but a lot of weight is off of my shoulders now. I'm no longer worrying about having to make elaborate meals for him, or to do everything in my power to make him happy as [possible, watching my words at all times to make sure I wont say anything that might upset him. It was a large change. The house is still cold like how it was with him, but its a different kind of cold. There is no warmth of another body. Its quiet, no more TV static and laughter or guitar. Work had only gotten more tiring, but I had recently gotten promoted, something I had wanted for a long, long time.

I haven't spoken to James since we broke up. I know he had come by the next day, as when he left that night he only took clothes to last him the night, and when I came home from work, all of his belongings were gone, and his spare key was left on the counter, all of his music gear out of the house, leaving me a now empty room, not to house his guitars, and no longer holding the hopes and dreams of a future child.

Or so I thought all of his stuff was gone.

I came home after work, the house dark and silent, turning on the lights before going into the former music room, which had now become my office for the time being, as I needed one for the promotion, to be able to have a comfortable spot where I could do other work tasks from home. I set down my purse, sitting in my computer chair and sliding off my heels. I saw something in the corner of my eye, something that somehow had never caught my eye all these months. 

An ashtray, repurposed to hold James’ many guitar picks. It was behind a lamp that was in the corner of the room on an end table. There was more than just guitar pics, but one of his rings. Like the ones he always wore on stage, the cool reflective metal that shone brightly under the spotlight. I paused, only having gotten one heel off, so confused as to how I never noticed. I sat in this same chair, facing the same direction, taking my heels off the same each day. I quickly got the other off before walking towards the table, picking up the ashtray, having remnants of cigarette butts and ash, some of which covered the pics. There had to be at least 20 of those pics, I don't know how James could forget such a thing, along with one of his more favorite rings. He wore it when we met, but I never made the connection as to that being the reason he left it. I missed him, yes, but having these almost made it worse. Like the world was teasing me that he is gone, that I won't be able to be held by him again, because he doesnt love me anymore. How I still love him, I don't know. Part of me still wants to believe he never meant any of it, but the chances of that being true is slim now. But, I didn't have the heart to call him, to return them to him. He would have come to get them by now, right? 

I picked up the cold metal, holding it in my hand before slipping it on my ring finger. It was too large, slipping off quite easily. I tried the next, my middle finger, and it fit well enough to not fall off. It felt so wrong to wear, but it made me feel closer to him. I hated it, but I loved it. A little piece of him to be with me always. ‘God, I sound like a wife mourning her husband who died in a war.’ Was all I could think to myself, setting back down the ash tray and taking off the ring before sitting back down in my office chair, trying to shake my head of the matter so I could focus on the important task at hand, work.

I spent about two hours on the assignment before finishing it among other things, now exhausted even further. I stumbled towards the bedroom, changing into my pajama pants and a sleep shirt. Since the break up, I have refused to wear or even look at the clothes sJames had bought me. I didn't feel any desire to wear those things now that I knew he would be the one to see me in them. I never really wanted to wear clothes like that, but knowing he liked it made me like it. Now that he's gone, so is that enjoyment. I layed down on the mattress, sinking down as it swallowed me and the day whole. I had gotten used to the loneliness of sleeping alone, even after having a body next to me for the last four years. Maybe it was an easier adjustment as towards the end it was like sleeping next to no one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The last few months are hard to describe. I can't explain it, I really can't. I've never been more lonely in my life, drowning all of my sorrows in the bitter bottles that wasted away each night and day. I've tried putting my energy elsewhere, focusing more on the band than I was earlier, trying to pour my emotions into guitar and lyrics, but nothing works. Nothing matches what I once had. What I threw away. What I ruined. Though, all my life, through all my struggles, there was one thing I learned.

Mask your emotions, hide your turmoil. It's something I had quickly gotten good at from a young age.

Or so I thought.

I went out for drinks with Lars to discuss lyrics and other parts of music for the record, as we normally had for our other productions and everything. We had another few weeks before we went into the studio, where we planned to record for many months, wanting this release to be the best we ever had. 

Before I had even gone out to the bar with Lars, I had already had a few bars at home, or what I had tried to make into my home. It was a home, yeah, but it didn't feel homey. There was no warmth or touch to it to make it seem whimsical or joyful. I know I have a problem, but what is there I can do. 

When I got there, Lars’s car was already outside, and I knew I was late by thirty minutes, having to build up the motivation to leave the house for a reason other than food, so trying to get up and socialize and talk about important stuff was not on my top choices to do.

I trudged in, my eyes darting around for the Danish, who was never that hard to find. And as I expected, I found him somewhat quickly, taking a seat next to him and ordering a drink for myself.

“Hey man, where the fock have you been? Been waiting here ages for ya,” Lars commented with his laugh, sipping on his own drink.

I just shrugged, “Sorry man, there was just…” I tried to think of a reasonable excuse, but none could come to mind. “Traffic, y’know, it gets bad around five or six, all those people getting off of work,” I explained, thinking I was an expert at this facade.

“Alright, whatever you say. Let's get to work now, yeah?” Lars tried to believe me, but it was clear he knew there was something more to what I said. 

I just nodded, “Yeah,” I answered, and Lars took out his notepad where he already had some ideas for songs. The mask was as strong as stone, no way to see in.

Or so I thought.

 Lars looked back to me, a thought popping back in his mind, “Traffic? There's normally not much in this area, I mean before you moved out of that place, shit, traffic was bad, but here? No way,” Lars questioned me, no longer believing a word I had said. 

“Well, I guess it was just different today…” I muttered, “Let's just start now, leave it be,”. Lars agreed reluctantly, and soon we were sharing ideas sas I jotted down lyrics, Lars taking turns as we debated on the new project.

Of course, as we worked, we were drinking. Me more than him, and it was getting me tipsy, and then drunk. Normally we wouldn't get drunk during lyric writing, just a bit.. Wobbly, I guess. We were just reviewing the lyrics for the third song we were jotting up and I had ordered another drink.

“Jesus man, you only focused on drinking? We got shit to do!” Lars complained to me, and I just shrugged. “Sorry, got my priorities here…” I joked, and Lars only gave a pity laugh.

“Is something up? You've been acting weird as hell for the last few months. We barely see you anymore, and when we do, you're late.” He informed me firmly, clearly not wanting to put up with my demeanor much longer.

“I'm fine, didn't I already tell you that?” I responded, and at this point I just wanted to go home. “Well, you can tell me it a million fuckin’ times and that doesnyt mean Ill believe you,” He rebuttled, and I sighed. “So, what's up with you?”

I didn't want to answer, well sober me would've deflected. But drunk me? He doesn't have much of a filter. Who does when they're drunk anyways?

“Nothings up with me, just dealing with shit…” I answered, taking another sip of my drink.

“Ok, well dealing with what?” 

“The breakup, and everything,” I answered, my eyes avoiding Lars’s own.

“Ohh, yeah, I see. What happened anyways? You never went into detail, just saying she kicked you out in the middle of the night. The fuck did you do to her?” He laughed, but the sting of the memories still remained.

“I.. well, I told her she was a shit cook, lazy, didnt work as hard me, and that groupies fuck better,” I admitted. Lars' face changed from a small smile to a look of shock.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah”

“What would make you say something like that?! That's totally messed up!” I knew this would be shocking, especially coming from me to say something like that. But I didn't expect him to be this shocked.

“No, I did it for a reason, I'm not just some asshole! I didn't want to break up with her, and I didnt want her to break up with me, but I knew I had to get her to break up with me. I keep drinking, and it makes me into… I don't know, I'm a different person and I don't want to hurt her. The only option was to force her to break up with me.” I tried to explain, but Lars was quick to respond.

“Only option?! Have you heard of rehab? Getting help? Did she just let you waste away?”

“I didn't want to go to rehab either, and no, she did try to help, but I don't want help…” It was getting embarrassing at this point, showing how weak I had become.

“James, not everything is about what you want! There's things you need to do, but you don't want to. Those are just as important.” He paused, hoping my worlds would process through me as he thought of an idea. “How about this, clean up your act a bit and I'll get her back over here and you can go back to paradise, alright?” Lars offered and I perked up a bit.

“How the hell do you expect her to come back to me after all of that?”

“I never said she'd come back to you, I said I can get her over here, make you guys talk or something.” He corrected me, and I just rolled my eyes.

“Well how are you gonna get her to come here? She probably hates me at this point,” 

“I have my ways, we were closer friends than you probably remember,” Lars’ words didn't help. He could never explain his plan, and that's what always ticked me off about him.

“Fine, whatever, work your midget magic or something,” I muttered under my breath.

“What did you just say to me?” 

“Nothing, nothing, just do whatever it is, alright?” 

“Fine.”

— — — — > A WEEK LATER…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time moves slow these days. But not in a bad way, it was nice that life was hitting the breaks a bit instead of the pedal. Though, that joy wouldn't last long.

I sat in my office chair at work, working on some papers my boss had handed me a few minutes ago. He was giving me stack after stack after stack of papers today, all coming with my promotion I got a bit back. More money means more work, and more work means more money, so I guess it isn't all too bad in the long run. I glanced up from my paper, eyeing the now double repurposed ashtray, one being made for the intents of cigarette butts, then guitar pics, and now it held my keys and some other trinkets, including one singular guitar pic of James, one of his favorites. 

I was startled out of my thoughts by hearing the office phone ring, quickly reaching to grab it, assuming it was a customer call.

“Hi, this is Capital Advisors, how can I help you?” I offered in a cheery tone, but the voice I heard response was not what I had expected.

“Hey man, look, it's Lars, something happened to James, you mind heading down to the studio?”

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Sure, Lars and I were close, but we haven't talked much since James and I’s break up. My words caught in my throat, processing the second half. “Something happened to James? What happened? Is he ok?” Even though he proved himself worthy of a break up, I still couldn't shake my love and worry for him.

“Uhhhh, yeah, no, sure he's fine, but you just needa come to the studio?” Lars rambled, not sure how to keep up his lie.

“Ok, yeah, of course, when do I need to be there?” My mind was racing, Lars wasn't being direct with what happened, so my mind could only think of the worst. He always poland things off to make them not seem as bad as they were. What if James fell and hurt himself? Overdosed on something? Only darker thoughts hit my mind.

“Like, now, this can't wait,” Lars demanded, and I had no choice but to agree.

“Yeah, I will be there as soon as I can, ok? Tell him I’ll be there soon, I don't want him to worry,” I gave in and then Lars thanked me and hung up. 

Now I don't know what to do. My boss wasn't the type of person to just let me leave whenever I want, and I had already promised to Lars I would be there immediately. Though, my worries got the best of me and I quickly began to gather my stuff together. I grabbed my keys and my purse, quickly heading to my boss's office. 

I always hated going in here, it was freezing since the AC was always blasted, and it reeked of musty air freshener. I gently knocked on the door before I heard his baritone voice respond, telling me to come in. I entered, seeing him sitting there, filing papers. 

“Can I help you?” He said in a monotone voice, opening and shutting cabinets.

“Yes, I need to leave, like right now. ITs an emergency, family matter,” I tried to briefly explain, but it didn't take long for him to come up with a new response.

“Emergency? Of what? Is someone dying?” His eyes looked up from his papers, meeting mine as he waited for an answer.

“I… Well, I don't know,” I muttered, and it was true, I really didn't. With Lars’ vagueness, I tru;y didn't have a reason to not assume James was already on his deathbed.

“How can you not know?” He questioned me as if I was stupid, then noticing my pale and shaky look of true worry, “Fine, yes, you can go, but you're leaving three hours early. I want you working those hours back tomorrow. Understood?” He finally made an offer, and I quickly accepted without hesitation.

“Yes, thank you, and I'm sorry,” I responded with a smile and a nod, quickly leaving the office and getting to my car as fast as possible. Lars never specified where exactly the studio was, but I had been there a few times with James to hear them practice and record. I did my best to remember the way there, speeding in some places and having to make a couple U turns to figure out the exact spot. The whole time my head was buzzing, I could not think of one normal reason as to why James would want me there. He clearly didn’t like me much towards the end, even though I still like to think he never meant it and that it was only the alcohol talking, but I was probably wrong. Why did I still care so much after being so wrongfully disrespected? Part of me still loved him. Still wanted to wake up next to him every morning, hear the faint strumming of a guitar whenever I came home from work. Now those days were gone, and never looked like they would return. I still worried for the worst for James, endless horrid possibilities arising in my brain, all trying to piece the puzzle together.

When I finally pulled up, I saw two other cars out in front, not seeing James’ car, assuming Lars gave him a ride and KIrk giving Jason one. No cop cars or ambulances or fire trucks, so he isn't dying, or maybe they already left. Maybe I was too late? 

I quickly got out of the car, almost running to the studio door, knocking until Lars came and opened it for me.

“Hey! There you are, took ya long eno-” Lars was quickly cut off by my own anxieties.

“Where is he? Is he ok? Was I not fast enough?” I quickly voiced out, my eyes darting around the inside and searching for him.

“Yeah, relax. He's fine. He's inside-”

“If he's fine then why did you make me come here from work?! I thought he was dying or something crazy,” I cut him off, questioning his efforts.

“No, none of that, you worry too much. He just wants to talk with you,” Lars answered, and my previous worries and a new suspicion grew in me.

“Just want to talk? Last time I talked with him he was critiquing me! He hates me! He doesn't want anything to do with me!” I voiced the feelings that had been clawing at me for months, never having anyone to tell them to.

“Or so you think. Look, just talk to him, that's all this is, ok?” Lars grew tired of my attitude and clearly I would have to give in soon.

“I want to, I want to talk to him, but I doubt he wants to talk to me,” I responded, trying to further explain my hesitations.

“I just told you that he wants to talk to you! Go in there, please!” Lars pleaded with me, and I sighed, finally agreeing.

“Ok, ok, I will,” I answered, beginning to head into the studio.

“Thank you! He's just down the hall, in that room with the sound equipment and everything,” Lars informed me, and I followed him, seeing James hunched over a table, scribbling down on a piece of paper. My heart was racing now. I hadn't seen him since that night. I didn't know what I would say to him, I was worried what he would say to me.

Then he looked up at me.

His cold, piercing blue eyes, a newfound softness in them as our eyes met. I avoided his eyes, but felt his lingering on me. Lars guided me in, shutting the door behind himself, leaving us alone. I was unsure of what to say, my eyes lingering on the floor, hearing James set down his pen.

“Uh… hi…” He started, probably just as unsure as I was.

“Hi,” I responded back shyly, avoiding his gaze, though I could still feel his own on me. The sound of footsteps approached me, instantly recognizing them as James’, and then I heard a click. Lars had locked us in here, now forced to talk.

“I.. I'm sorry, I really am,” He mumbled, and I looked up at him, seeing a true guilt in his eyes, “I wish I didn't do it, that I didn't say those things, that I didn't make you hurt so much like that… I should’ve been much more, well, mature about it. I feel like shit for everything,” James explained to me, but this only caused me to have more and more questions.  

“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice still a hushed whisper as a wave of various emotions crashed down on me. “I had reasons for what I did, I just wish I went about it differently. I wish I had listened to you when you had offered me help. I didn't want to hurt you with my habits, and I couldn't break up with you, I didn't want to be the one to do that, so… so I tried to make you break up with me, and you did. Everything I said, it was a lie. I never meant it. You're a great cook, you work hard, you're just… you're amazing, you're too good for me.” James confessed, and I could feel a bit of the cold melt away, though still a hurt in my heart.

“Then why make me come and tell me all of this? This would only pour salt in that wound, no?” I was still confused at why he would make such an effort, but I still found it touching.

“Because I still love you. I want things back the way they were. I swear on everything, I've changed. I miss you more than anything-” I cut him off with a sweet kiss to his lips, and he melted into me, wrapping his arms around me in a comforting and loving embrace.

After James pulled away, he looked me in my eyes, “How could you forgive me for saying all of that to you?” He began, “Id think you would just… hate me, I was a total jerk,”

“Or so you'd think. I still love you and miss you more than you could imagine,” I responded with a  small smile, and James matched mine, kissing me again. “Can… can I show you how much I've missed you?” James asked in a mumbled tone, clearly a bit embarrassed. My cheeks heated up at his offer and I giggled, nodding as our lips met a third time, a new hunger and desire now displayed. Slowly, he walked me to the table until I had backed up into it, his hands trailing up my sides until we broke away, his lips now going down my neck, eliciting a needy whine from the back of my throat, my hands pulling him closer, snaking under his shirt to trace his skin. 

James’s fingers slipped under my shirt, working to get it off of my head, leaving my neck for only a second to remove the fabric before attaching himself to my sensitive flesh, feeling him suck and nibble, definitely leaving bruises. He gave a more harsh bite, causing me to whimper, then soothing it over with his tongue before pulling away. Soon his gaze focused on my breasts, still confined with my bra. His eyes met mine again, “Can I take it off?” He asked ,already reaching around my back to work on the clasp, which had become an easy task for him. I nodded, and soon the garment was now on the floor with my shirt. The cold air caused my nipples to erect immediately, and James’ eyes were locked on them, cupping the in his hands as he squeezed them and pinched at my nipples, making me make high needy sounds, causing him to smirk, kissing around the soft flesh, teasing me with every movement he made. 

I began to claw at his shirt, trying to take it off of him, so he reluctantly pulled away from my chest, removing his own shirt, giving me a view I had missed more than I care to admit. My eyes dragged slowly over the newly exposed skin, and his lips crashed down on mine again, pushing me back so far I was now laying down on the table, the cold wood causing goosebumps to rise on my skin. I tugged at James’ pants, feeling myself grow wetter at the moment. He slipped down his pants, leaving him in only his boxers as you pulled down my skirt, leaving me in only my panties. I could see the bulge in his final layer grow at the new sight, and then he got on his knees, gripping the sides of my aunties and taking them off in a swift motion, leaving my glistening folds exposed to his hungry view.. His warm lips teased my thighs, kissing around the area I needed him most, making me writhe with desire. Eventually, his tongue found my center, giving it soft licks at first, parting my folds with his tongue. A moan escaped my throat, and James took it as his sign to keep going, burying his face between my thighs. He licked and sucked at my hole, probing at it with his tongue as his nose nudged my sensitive clit. My hand snaked into his long blonde locks, gripping his scalp tightly as I pulled him closer. I could hear him groan into my flesh, causing a vibration to coarse through me, making me moan again as I came closer to my first high. Eventually James moved further up, giving more attention to my aching clit, giving it gentle licks first to tease me before sucking it into his mouth, biting it softly, making me squeal from his ministrations.

“Jamei, fuck, Im gonna cum,” I whined out, tugging on hair harder, causing him to let out another low groan as he continued to feast on me. “Cum for me pretty girl,” He mumbled into my flesh, and like that my orgasm washed over me, a breathy moan falling my lips, feeling my core pulsate , releasing my grip on James’ head, allowing him to pull back.

James chin was drenched in my essence and his spit, some caught in his facial hair, wiping it off on the back of his hand. I dont think Ive seen anything hotter. His eyes landed on mine, and I noticed a lustful darkness in them, kissing me again as our tongues tangled in a battle for dominance, James winning in the end, and soon his boxers were on the ground, both of us bare in front of each other again.

JAmes broke the kiss, trailing his lips down my neck, leaving new hickeys and bruises in his wake as they now peppered my neck. I felt his tip at my entrance and I squirmed, his lips leaving my bruised flesh. “You ready, baby?” He asked, taking my hand in his, and I nodded, feeling him slowly push into me, the stretching sensation stinging my insides, a delicious stretch my body had missed as I tried to accommodate his size. Once he was to the hilt, I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, squeezing his hand tightly.

I gave him a look of a need, and he gook note, slowly beginning to pump his hips, untwining our fingers as he positioned himself with better support, placing his arms on either side of my head. With every thrust a moan escaped my throat, tears pricking at my eyes from the pleasure. “Fuck, you’re so tight… haven't had anything since me, hmmm?” James whispered to me, and I could only whine in response, his calloused fingers sneaking down to my clit, brushing the bud lightly with the pad of thumb, and I began to squirm around his cock, feeling his thrusts increase with speed, more grunts falling from James.

The table I laid on creaked beneath from our frevorus movements of need, completely forgetting we were still in the studio. The band was still in that studio. This room wasn't for recording, very little sound blockers. Anyone in this building could hear us. The thought didn't pass my mind once throughout the whole experience, only focused and becoming closer with James once again, not just in body, but in our connection reforming with every minstration from either of us.

James' thrusts grew relentless, only increasing the pleasure for both of us as he chased his own high, helping me with mine, continuing to toy with and stroke my clit, moans and whines leaving me with any movement he made. “So pretty like this, baby, taking me so well,” He groaned, his small grunts and moans filling my ears like sweet music. I began to buck my hips, knowing that my orgasm was approaching, James not far behind, his vocal expression of pleasure growing in number and volume, mixing with my own mewls and moans, that and the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room, my nails clawing his back.

My eyes began to roll back, James’ name falling from my lips a thousand times as my legs wrapped around his waist, trying to pull him deeper to finally bring me to edge. James noticed and thrusted harder, hitting that special spot with every movement, making me have to cover my mouth with my hand, the unholy noises escaping me growing too loud for us to stay secret. James disapproved, “Mmmm, don't do that baby, let me hear you cum around my cock,” He cooed, and that was all the encouragement I needed to come over the edge, a high pitched moan coming from me, feeling my walls clamp down on James’ length, pulsating as waves of pleasure cascaded over me. James helped me ride through it, still rubbing my sensitive nub, his thrusts losing rhythm as he approached his own high.

“Fuck, sweetie, gonna cum inside you…” He grunted, his pace increasing as his movement became erratic with pleasure. “Take it, take it like a good girl, baby,” He moaned, his load shooting deep inside of me and painting my walls white with his seed. His hips sputtered, bucking into me as he collapsed on top of me, our sweaty foreheads clinging together as we both recovered from the intense orgasms, trying to catch our breath. James pressed soft, lazy kisses around my face, reminding me how much he loved me and how he'd never hurt me again if given the chance.

After a moment, we both had come down from our highs, James’ softening member sliding out of me with a pop. He looked down at the mess between my thighs, all evidence of our pleasure with each other. “Youre fuckin’ perfect,” He muttered, his eyes dragging over me.

“Are the groupies still better?” I teased him, remembering our bickering that was one real, or so I thought it was real fighting.

“Oh, hell no, they don't stand a chance to this,” He responded with a smile, and I smiled back.

We cleaned up, slipping back on our clothes so we were somewhat presentable. Only now did the realization that we were never once alone in this studio and the rest of the band was outside had hit me. A wave of embarrassment flowed over me, my cheeks flushing even more than they were before given the previous activities. Both James and I looked quite disheveled, our hair a mess and clothes wrinkled. I tried to shake off whatever nervousness I had in me as James put his arm around me. We went to reach for the door handle, only to find out it was still locked. Now it would be even more awkward. James knocked on the door from the inside, calling out to Lars, or anyone else in the studio.

“Guys? Lars? Can someone unlock the door?” And it wasn't long before footsteps approached, hearing a key click as the door swung open, Lars, more curious than ever eyed both my own and James’ appearance, noticing the hickeys, the slight wobble I gave, and any other imperfections that we might have displayed.

“I take it you two worked things out?”

— — — — > A FEW WEEKS LATER…

It had taken some time, a lot of talking, and more than just one hook up for James and I to work out any other issues that we had with each other. We met up a lot in the recent weeks after that, discussing different ways on how to help James with his drinking, and just trying to regain eachothers trust.

Soon enough though, James had moved back in with me. I kept my office space, but now the room was split in two halves. I worked in one half, while James did his guitar work in the other half. It was a fairly large room, so we both had our own spaces and rarely bothered each other. If I had a work call or anything that required silence, James would just migrate to the living room.

It was the same old schedule we had all those months ago, and I was now returning from work. It was Friday, now I would have plenty of time to relax and be with James. I pulled into the driveway, parking and getting out of my car as I walked up to the porch, the click of my heels following my steps on the cement. The lights were on, the door unlocked. I could hear a faint strumming coming from inside, meaning James was hard at work on new material for the album. It was my favorite thing to listen to while doing work assignments at home.

I walked in with a huff, setting down my purse and keys on the counter before heading to the shared office space. James wasn't playing much, just sounded like scales and chords for his warm ups. “How was work, baby?” James greeted me, still focused on his guitar. “It was a bit tiring, but it was good. I think my boss is starting to like me,” I answered, settling into my chair. He nodded in response, going back to fiddling with the strings.

It wasn't until a little later a soft, sweet and melodic tune had hit my ears. Much different than what Metallica normally plates. James hummed along to it, almost like he had lyrics already written out. But knowing him, he probably did.

“What are you playing? It sounds really nice,” I started, listening to a few more notes before continuing, “It's not what you guys normally play,” I commented, and James let out a deep hum in response. “Just something new I'm working on,” He replied, and I nodded, getting back to work.

Only this time, I couldn't focus. Normally James’s music helped me to focus, becoming a comforting background noise. This time though, I couldn't get my mind off of that melody. He kept going, and each second I kept getting more and more captivated by it. 

“That songs really pretty, I like it,” I said, scribbling down whatever notes I couldnt on a piece of paper. “Thanks, it's actually, uhm..” He trailed off, and I knew something was up. I spun around in my chair, going to face him. “It's what?” I asked, confused by his shy demeanor. 

“It's called ‘Nothing Else Matters’,” He stated, finally stopping picking at the strings. “Nothing Else Matters?” I repeated, connecting whatever the lyrics might be in my head to the melody. Normally their slower, melodic songs were dark and heavy topics, so I expected the same with this one.

“Yeah,” James answered, “I wrote the lyrics about you, actually,” He muttered softly, though I still picked it up. “About me?” I questioned, slightly shocked. “Yeah… I've thought a lot about, well, everything recently. Ever since that point a few months back I've reflected and everything… Rumors spread, and I just want everyone out there to get the right idea,” He paused, searching for the right words, “I want people out there to know that you're all I care about, you mean more than the world to me, and I want everyone to know that,” He stated, his tone true and emotional. I had never heard him say sweeter words to me, and I knew that he was speaking nothing other than the truth, I could see it in his eyes, there's a way to read people, and James wasn't easy to read, but you soon could learn the lingo.

“That means a lot to me, Jamie,” I answered, smiling at him. I got up from my chair to sit next to him on the couch, leaning against him. “Thank you,” I said, kissing him on the cheek. “You don't need to thank me, sweetheart,” James responded, wrapping his arm around me.

And now, I knew my whole world was whole again. What was once hatred, or so I thought was hatred, was once again love, everything as it should be.

[auspicioustidings]

THE OMEGA DRABBLES THAT YOU KEEP ADDING ON…. So delicious thank you for the scrumptious meal i cant emphasize how much i fucking love it. Almost want to know how they’d react if reader still found some random alpha to fuck anyways 😩😩💕

not saying it as a way to pressure you into writing more ofc i hope it doesn’t come across that way 😭 also love your kinktober series! Please don’t pressure yourself if you ever get writer’s block for it! 🫶🏻

I fucking love omegaverse, like I only read my first omegaverse book when I was bitterly depressed and in bed at the start of this year and oh boy I have not looked back.

She would find another alpha to fuck is the issue. Lots of ways it can go, but I do love the angsty version even if the fluff or smut versions would probably be more fun.

Like she's not an idiot, she has some self awareness about this weird thing between her and pack 141. Ghost is over protective of her on missions even when he pretends he isn't, Soap consistently scares off other alphas who are around her when she's in the mess or rec room, Gaz is always brushing against her, touching her in the small ways he can without giving himself away and Price... she knows she fucked up with that shirt. She realised too late and by the time she went to grab it he had taken his laundry bag. And yet his shirts keep being left for her.

If she spent her heat with them it would all fall apart. She's barely managing to resist the pull to them as is, she's noticing that sometimes they aren't complete fucking assholes, Christ she's actually finding herself smiling over things they do or say sometimes.

Soap confronts her over the heat clinic paperwork. He's mean, they fight. He says some absolutely horrid things to her about how she's slutting it up with civilians, how she's going to embarrass the whole department presenting like a bitch and whining for alphas. He knows he crosses the line, but he's so angry without understanding why. He barks her. He fucking barks her. "Ye'll naw go tae some fucking clinic tae whore yerself out. Withdraw the application."

It's well over a boundary. Once she withdraws it, it's too late to resubmit even after the bark wears off. They had been in base, she hadn't had any sort of ear piece in to help resist a bark because it was unthinkable any of her allies would do that to her.

He doesn't realised what he's done. Like he storms off thinking he's been a right cunt to her but that she'll go to a clinic anyway because his plan to convince her to spent her heat with him went completely to shit before he could even propose it.

And because he tells the others that's what she did, they all think he's right. They're all mad at her when she gets back from heat leave, cold. Gaz will not touch her. Price doesn't leave shirts. Soap leaves her to the mercy of pushy alphas in the mess and rec room so she just withdraws entirely from those spaces. Ghost takes missions, just removes himself from having to see her at all.

Of course none of them know she spent her heat in one of the military's heat rooms because a sanctioned heat clinic will not take someone last minute (and she wouldn't go to a non-sanctioned one, that would be dangerous but worse could get her fired if found out). The military do not like omegas, so it's almost a punishment. Padded cell, clinical nest, cold hose downs every so often to keep her temperature down. Little camera blinking in the corner so someone can come in and sedate her if she starts hurting herself.

She thinks they are all being extra horrid to her because they watched her lose control, so she is just as angry at them if not more. It was a violation what Soap did, but to watch her in that cell lose her fucking mind? They can go fuck themselves, she's a good goddamn soldier and it's not her fault she needed to go through a heat. They'd never have survived it, they'd never have gotten through the pain and delirium of being forced to do it alone. She is stronger than they could ever fucking dream of being, and she is going to prove it.

(if you want to go ultimate angst version then the military heat rooms have officers fuck her through it and oh boy not only are they awful but they will taunt her with the video footage).

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Kintober Day 18 - Body Writing

Pairing: BDE x reader

Word count: 1.1K

TWs: Body image issues, erectile dysfunction, angst, fluff, actually not much smut to speak of.

Kinktober masterlist

Elvis arrives back at the hotel still in his jumpsuit and collapses into the nearest armchair. He hadn’t felt like company so he told the guys to go to their own rooms, but he always feels like seeing you. He kicks his shoes off as you finish applying your lipstick in the vanity mirror. 

“Ya don’t need to do that, honey,” he tells you, wearily. He will admit that he used to want you dolled up for him every night, but the strains of the road and the discomfort in his body lately just make him want to crawl into bed and fall asleep with you in his arms. He should probably shower, first, though. 

You’ve put on his favourite lingerie set and a silky robe, you’re freshly showered and you just spent ages doing your face. You know he’s tired, but you wouldn’t mind just a little attention. 

“I just wanted to look pretty for ya, Daddy,” you tell him, slinking across the room and then landing gently in his lap. 

His hands go instinctively to your hips and he can’t help smiling at you. You do look as pretty as a picture. Even prettier when you untie your robe, letting it hang open and exposing that lovely white lace bra and panties he bought for you the other day.

“Ya look beautiful, baby,” he tells you, stroking your cheek with a finger. “But Daddy’s had a long day,” he sighs. 

You pout. “Baby just wants ta love on ya a little.”

“I don’t know, honey. This fat old man needs a shower.”

You giggle. “You’re not fat, or old.” 

He raises both eyebrows. “Feel like it, honey.”

You nuzzle your nose into his. “Well I don’t think so. Let me help you outta this suit, if ya wanna shower.”

He nods, watching with amusement as you try to unzip it with your teeth.

“You’re gonna get lipstick on it, honey,” he tells you, though he doesn’t really care. 

You finally get the zipper open to just above his belly, then start pressing kisses to his hairy, sweaty chest. 

“I’m gonna get lipstick on you!” You tease, and he looks down to see red lip marks dotted across his skin. 

“Goddamn, baby!” He laughs. 

You shrug. “You’re showering anyway.”

He smiles and pulls you against him, one hand in your hair as he starts to kiss you, gently at first and then more thoroughly, his tongue exploring your mouth. When you pull apart again you realise you’ve left the rest of your lipstick on his lips and you giggle. That gives you an idea. Quickly jumping off his lap you run back over to your vanity. He’s confused, but he doesn’t have much time to think about as seconds later you’re back, lipstick in hand.  He chuckles. You reapply it to your lips and then take his face in both of your hands, pausing to admire how gorgeous he is before you kiss him all over, leaving him covered in red lip marks. 

“Baby!” He’s playing at pushing you away as he giggles like a teenager. 

You giggle too, letting go of his face at returning to your original task of removing his suit. Pulling it suit off his shoulders you kiss them too, reapplying lipstick whenever you see the marks getting too light. You kiss his fingers individually, then his palms, the backs of his hands. Not wanting his arms to feel left out, you press kisses to his wrists and then trail them all the way up, even kissing his sweaty armpit, making him giggle and protest that it tickles. 

Once you feel like you’ve kissed all the exposed skin thoroughly, you go back to unzipping his suit, pulling the zipper down all the way now. You’re just applying another fresh coat of lipstick when he looks down at his belly and sighs. 

“Ah, don’t do that, honey. I need ta shower.” 

He makes to get up from the chair and you put your hand on his chest, firmly. 

“No. I’m lovin’ on ya, Daddy. You’re stayin’ here and enjoyin’ it.”

He grumbles, trying again to move. He was enjoying himself, but this is enough now. He needs to get clean. You struggle to stay on his lap as he tries to stand, despite you being in the way. Then suddenly you have an idea. Taking the lid off the lipstick again you start to write on his skin, right across his belly. 

Sexy.

He stops trying to get up and stares down at the word, and then at you as you pepper his skin with more lipstick-kisses. What are you doing?

You look up, noting his reaction, and then you write across his chest. 

Gorgeous.

He wants to say something to you to get you to stop, but the words are stuck in his throat. You move from his lap and make short work of pulling his jumpsuit and pants off completely, so he’s naked in the armchair now. He stares at you intensely. He knows he could get up now, but he feels trapped in the chair, somehow. He wants to move, but he can’t. You watch his chest rise and fall as his breathing gets more erratic, then you drop to your knees between his legs and kiss up each thigh, stopping just shy of the top. You hear him make a strangled noise in his throat, and look up for a second before burying your face in his groin. He whines. You kiss his balls and his soft dick, still cucooned in foreskin. 

“Baby,” he whispers, finally managing to force the words out, his face hot and red with embarrassment. 

You just shake your head, and pick up the lipstick again. You write just above his dick, with two arrows pointing down.

My favourite part. Even when it’s soft.

To prove your point, you gently take him in your mouth, licking and sucking even though there’s no sign of Little Elvis coming out of his cucoon any time soon. He looks down at you, his chest heaving, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes. How on earth did he get you? And why did you stay?

Once you’ve had enough you crawl back onto his lap and let him hold you tightly, listening to his little moans in your ear. 

“Thank you, baby,” he whispers. 

You grumble contentedly, nuzzling his neck. “Jus’ wanted to show ya how much I love ya, Daddy.”

He grips you even more tightly. “I love ya too baby.”

You sit there for a little while, him trying to steady his breathing and you enjoying the feeling of him all around you, breathing in his smell. Eventually you feel his body relax. 

“Time for your shower?” You ask. 

He shifts so he can look into your eyes, his hand on your face. 

“No, baby. Don’t think I wanna wash all this off just yet.”

Taglist:

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @another-identityofmine @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978

[httpsserene]

i've been looking for weeks and months but can't find a single x male reader fic/au/etc... could u spare sum for the boys too😭🤲

ɪ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ᴡ/ ᴍᴠ33

📖ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: max is over at daniel’s where they're supposed to be doing whatever best buds do. but somehow, the topic of his father comes up, and it brings max to a…realization of sorts. it also causes the two of you to argue, and for several discoveries to be made in the early morning hours; some of the depressing-kind, and some of the heartwarming-and-life-changing-kind. 📖ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:  angst and fluff (hurt/comfort). argument. jos verstappen's a+ parenting. no beta we die like alphatauri's engines. 📖ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 4k words 📖ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: max verstappen x male!reader (race not specified) 📖ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: oneshot 📖ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ: ivy • frank ocean

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴀᴄᴇ:  i *usually* don’t write for male readers (as a cis woman idk i think it’s sus? idk, but maybe it’s not since i do support and love mxm ships, so maybe that’s hypocritical?)....but since it is my first request and max’s birthday (when i started writing this) i figured i could spare sum for da boys :)))) i scrolled through the tag and most of it was f1 x platonic!male!reader which is lowkey depressing, the boys deserve to simp wholeheartedly with us girlies ✊🏽  i hope “the boys” enjoy this and it makes the f1 x male!reader life a lil better! (you also didn’t specify who you wanted, so i went with max bc of his birthday) big shout out to the best kitties in the world, jimmy and sassy, for being great sports in this fic ☠️ they were wonderful setting devices!  this is not an accurate description of max’s relationship with his father. we all don’t know what’s going on there, but it did become a wonderful plot point. so, it’ll probably be the only thing jos the boss is good for besides being max’s sperm-donor 🙂.

want to be added to my taglist? or my f1 kinktober taglist? send me a message !

prompts from @forestryprompts and @dumplingsjinson

it’s 3:23 AM, and you’re brutally jarred out of your sleep by your phone ringing. you’re disoriented–still in that sleepy “where the fuck am i” stage–and don’t quite catch the first phone call. a few seconds pass by without another call, and you’re convinced you hallucinated. usually, there’s only two reasons for you to be disturbed in the middle of the night. number one, when sassy “accidentally” presses all ten pounds of her body weight into your spleen with one paw; and number two; when max returns from partying, a late flight, or streaming. glancing around, you guess sassy is the bengal curled up on max’s side of the bed, gravitating to where his scent is the strongest as max is over at daniel’s; missing her favorite parent. and you guess that jimmy’s the heat source curled against your feet under the duvet, as that’s his favorite spot to sleep and his favorite place to prey on your toes. you lay straight back, head resting on your pillow and shrug, dismissing it as a problem for the morning.

then another call starts ringing through. now, you’re awake enough to start processing the important information. you always set your phone on dnd when going to bed, and there’s only a few numbers that are set to bypass it during sleep. this ringtone in particular, identifies the caller as max, which is peculiar. max doesn’t disturb your sleep unless absolutely necessary, he already feels guilty enough for doing so when traveling. with that thought, you reach for the phone with a reaction time you’d only relate to your boyfriend’s occupation. 

you breathe out, “maxy, baby? are you okay? did something happen?”

a panicked and slightly desperate giggle slips out of the receiver, “heyyyy, it’s daniel, actually–”

“daniel?” you softly exclaim, sitting up in bed, worriedly continuing, “where’s max? did something happen? is he okay–”

“well,” daniel starts, “i wouldn’t say he’s ‘okay’, so to speak–” 

“oh my god! what does that mean, daniel? i’m coming over right now give me like, fifteen minutes–” you say rushedly, already leaping out of the bed. jimmy yowls in shock of being disturbed, panically darting out of the duvet, and sassy shoots up–airplane ears activated and all. 

daniel cuts you off, “NO! uh, no! i’m actually already on the way back to yours with him right now! he’s like- kinda drunk- tipsy i guess, one would say uh- but–”

“are you driving, daniel? if-if you’ve drank you should’ve let him sleep over, or called me to come get him if he’s being a menace!”

“no, uh-” daniel starts whispering, “we’re in an uber. ma- i mean- your boyfriend is kind of out of it, and not in a drunk way.”

“what the fuck,” you bite out, switching to hold the phone to your ear with your shoulder, as you pull on a pair of sweatpants (max’s) over your boxers, “does that mean, daniel?!”

“so, like,” daniel whispers even quieter, “hypothetically, we started talking about ma- sorry, his- wonderful childhood, and i guess me saying that seeing his father stabbing a mechanic with a fork isn't a normal thing to experience, kind of sent him into a spiral.”

“oh, fuck” you pause, while pulling one of max’s championship hoodies on. 

“yeah, that’s pretty much what i’d say,” daniel sighs, “but, then um, he tried to like rationalize it to me? like, he’d bring up different crazy memories, and i’d be like ‘no, mate, that’s not normal either,’ and everytime he’d bring up a positive interaction with his dad, he realized it correlated to how well he performed, and he kind of um-shut down.”

“oh. fuck.” you repeat. sassy, in a rare show of solidarity, winds between your legs and mews gently at you as if she’s letting you know that she’s here. “um, well,” you say, running a stressed hand through your hair, “you should be on max’s list to come up to the apartment, but i’ll call down to give them a heads up. text me when you get here, please?”

“will do,” daniel perks up, “i’m sorry by the way. i should’ve left it alone, or distracted him away from the topic. but you know how he gets, probably better than me.” 

now it’s your turn to let a depressing chuckle escape, “probably not, dan. i’ve known him for fourteen years and dated him for five of those, and he hasn’t done more than agree that his dad ‘isn’t perfect’” you wave your hand through the air, brushing the train of thought away, “anyways, i can get the spare room ready for you, so you don’t have to uber back?”

daniel nervously laughs, “forgive me for saying this, but i don’t really want to be present for whatever conversation is going to happen. or have to pretend like i’m unaware of anything. max would do his best to avoid me for as long as he can if he knew i was around, and i don’t want to risk that…after what happened when i left red bull.”

“yeah, you’re right. don’t forget to text me when you get here,” you state.

daniel’s text comes through when you’ve just gathered the ibuprofen and water bottles. you thumbs-up the message, and go to sit in the living room to wait for a knock on the door.  you plop down on the couch and your leg bounces anxiously. jimmy gracefully hops up into your lap, and he must be an emotional support cat because he sits down on that leg, and leans into your torso butting his head into your chest asking for pets. you indulge him, a shaky laugh erupting, “thanks, jimmy,” and you lean down to press a few kisses to his cheeks. silence overcomes the room, and then three knocks break the still air in the apartment, and both you and jimmy jump off the couch and race to the entryway. you push jimmy behind you with a foot as you open the door, knowing damn well he’ll sneak into the hallway if given a chance. 

max stumbles through the doorway first. his eyes are bloodshot with a cold and unseeing look glazed over them, red-rimmed and looking so distraught at tonight’s realization, that your heart aches for him. you wish you could take his pain away, or at least carry some of it for him. his hair is sticking out in different directions like he was anxiously tugging at it, but the most surprising observation is the tear tracks on his cheeks. max doesn’t cry, like at all. 

well, that’s not exactly true. he’s one of the men that says crying is “strong” and not a sign of weakness when you cry and even encourages you to cry it out on his chest. but, when it’s himself, he refuses to cry until everything gets too much. he’ll come up to you and sit or stand pressed right up against you, grabs at and plays with your hand to let you know that he needs comfort, before he looks at you and softly asks with a cracking voice if he can have a hug. you always set aside what you’re doing as quickly as you can, because you’re not going to let an opportunity of caring for max in a rare vulnerable time pass, and pull him into your chest. even though he’s broader than you, he appears to shrink himself within your arms, and presses his face into your shoulder while he cries. his tears are always silent, but his body is loud; he shakes, and his hands grab at whatever you’re wearing in fists like he’s afraid that you’d slip out of his grasp.

anyways, you’ve never known him to really cry with other people. with a soft, “max…” you reach out to him, but he brushes right past your hand and goes straight for the bedroom. jimmy trots after him, and sassy falls into step from whatever pocket she was hiding in. you freeze, shocked at his behavior while also understanding, he’s had a life-changing realization that he’s never allowed himself to address. you feel guilty that you're jealous of the fact that he had it with daniel. 

daniel clears his throat, still standing outside the doorway, “...you know he doesn’t mean to ignore you like that, right?”

you nod, “when did he start crying?”

“he held it together until we got into the uber, i think. he was turned towards the window the whole time and refused to look at me. i didn’t notice he cried until we got out.”

“are you sure you don’t want to stay the night? it’s late, dan. or at least let me get you the uber back” you offer again with a questioning look.

daniel refuses both options, “nah, don’t worry about it. i’ll make max take me to lunch one day to pay me back. i’d say good luck but that seems redundant. be gentle with him, alright?”

you sigh, “i’ll be gentle, dan. can’t say the same for him,” daniel’s face saddens more, “get home safe alright, dan? text me when you get there.”

“of, course,” daniel nods, “goodnight.”

you watch him walk into the elevator before closing the door. you turn the lock, and step forward until you can rest your forehead onto the cool wood. eventually, you push off the door and turn around to grab the water and ibuprofen from the settee and make your way to the bedroom. max is sitting at the foot of the bed, elbows on his knees and his head resting in his hands.

pausing, you place the water and meds on the nightstand first, then you sit next to him and lightly place your hand on his upper back, attempting to rub between his shoulder blades to provide comfort. max shrugs your hand off. you pause, blinking a few times trying to discover the best course of action. you decide to ignore the second blatant dismissal of the night, and pull his hand off his face and push him to sit up straight. you forcefully straddle his lap, ignoring his grumbles, and grab his face, thumbs resting on his cheeks and directing him to look straight at you. 

“max, you’ve got to communicate with me here. i was terrified, when daniel called me! you refuse to talk about your dad with me, which is fine, okay? but you have to talk to somebody. whether it’s me, daniel, a therapist, christian, or even fucking helmut marko—you need to talk to someone. you’ve repressed this shit your whole life, and when whatever film you had over your eyes when looking at your father slipped away, you shut down completely? that can’t happen again! i don’t want it to happen again…daniel sounded completely fucking terrified—like he was afraid he broke you or something. and if you’re scaring me right now with how-h-how out of it you look, i can’t imagine what it was like for him,” you finish, taking a few deep breaths. max doesn’t say anything, just stares at you blankly. 

you make a distressed groan, both hands releasing max’s face to rub at your eyes and drag down your cheeks. doing so, you continue talking, “max. you don’t even have to talk, baby, not to me at least. i don’t care if you journal, if you meditate, if you go goddamn axe throwing; but, you need to see a professional. cause, how your brain is coping, and how you’re rationalizing it isn’t good. you aren’t the problem, nothing you could’ve done differently would have made your dad change; you are not the problem, max, he is. okay? i’ve known you for fourteen years, and not once have i pressured the topic after you said that ‘you’re fine,’ but, you have to at least promise me that you’ll start doing something.”

max parts his lips, thinking about what to say, as you fully sit on his lap. you look at him with wide eyes filled with worry—with care— and you’re anxiously playing with the hairs on the nape of your neck. 

“i don’t want to talk about it.”

“that’s not an option,” you state, with a furrowed brow, “can you at least tell me what caused the breakdown?”

and, that’s what gets get’s max going. his cheeks flush, and his eyes darken, and he starts talking with a firmer voice.

“it wasn’t a breakdown, first of all. i was just overwhelmed and overreacting. it’s nothing serious, like you’re pretending it is. i don’t need this—this false worry, showing up all of sudden when you know how the relationship between my father and i has been for all of the time we’ve known each other.”

you pull away, retreating off his lap and stand in front of him with your arms crossed over your chest. 

“false worry?? that’s what you think this is,” you start with an exasperated tone, “max, ‘for all the time we’ve known each other’ all you’ve done is deflect from my questions about you two, or tell me that everything is fine when it’s clearly not! and i gave you the space you wanted, because i was afraid that you’d stop talking to me, that you’d stop trusting me. but now, as your boyfriend, i can’t let it go unaddressed anymore!”

“you already did for fourteen years! it shouldn’t be that difficult for you to keep ignoring it.”

“because you asked me to, max! you didn’t want to talk about it then, and you need to talk about it now! i don’t give a fuck if you don’t want to share it with me, but it needs to be with somebody!”

“i already told you I didn’t want to talk about it, yet you keep insisting!” 

“that’s because i fucking care about you!” 

“well, did i ask for you to care about me?”

you’re stunned silent. the room is filled with heavy breaths from the two of you. this might be the most serious argument you’ve had, in awhile, or ever. 

it’s the third blatant dismissal of the night, and you’re calling it quits, daniel did tell you to be gentle, and if you keep going like this you’re word choice will become less gentle.

“you’re right,” you exhale, relaxing your clenched jaw, “you didn’t ask for me to care. and you shouldn’t have to ask for anybody to care. and, for some ‘unbelievable’ reason, i do happen to actually care,” you finish, your words dripping with exhaustion and defeat.

you walk around to the side of the bed, grabbing a pillow off the top and point at the nightstand, “the ibuprofen and water are for you. at least, finish one bottle before you go to bed, please.” you start walking towards the closet. 

“wait,” max calls out, finally standing up with a confused look in his eyes, “why’d you grab a pillow?”

you grab a blanket out of the closet, and sigh, “i’m sleeping on the couch.”

“what? no-no you’re not,” max stutters out, disbelieving.

“uh, yes i am.”

“what, no! no, schatje, i’m sorry, please come to bed,” max utters out, looking absolutely heartbroken. 

“i’m going to sleep on the couch, max,” you repeat, “if i go to bed, i won’t be able to not talk about it, and we’re clearly going to talk in circles about it. both of us are tired, frustrated, and mad, and we’re going to end up even angrier, so i’m going to sleep on the couch.”

max, crossing the room quickly, grabs at your waist with his large hands, and pleads, “if you’ve made up your mind about it, you can at least take the bed, i’ll sleep on the couch, schat.”

you, grab his hands off your waist, having to fight him a little bit for it (you may be a man, but your man is a professional athlete, you’ll be outmatched any day) and press them into his chest, “you’re still pretty drunk, max. i’ll let you take the bed so you can be comfortable, you seem like you’re going to have a pretty bad hangover, i can smell the alcohol on you still.”

max looks upset, but eventually concedes. you press your lips to his cheek, “i’ll see you in the morning, babe. then, with clearer minds we can talk, ‘kay?”

sassy baps jimmy on the face before nuzzling in between max’s legs, while jimmy makes to follow you out as you shut the door gently.

situating yourself on the couch, you squeeze your eyes shut. usually you’d be hugging max’s arm to your chest but tonight, jimmy is benevolent enough to leave his usual spot at your feet to fill in for max. even with the comfort the bengal’s purring body provides, you know you’re only in for a fitful night of sleep.

you wake up a few hours later, your body not able to keep you under for long you guess, as the early morning sun has barely started lightening the room. you take a minute to get your bearings, not used to waking up on the couch (in the past when you have accidentally fallen asleep on the couch, you magically wake up in bed laying on top of your boyfriend, how weird), and jimmy is no longer laying with you. he’s with max, who’s sitting on his floor below you, with his back facing you.

you rub at your eyes and whisper, “max?” he startles, and turns around to face you. his eyes have fresh bags underneath, his hair is still slightly damp from a shower, and you can tell he hasn’t gotten any sleep. even though you got a couple hours of shut-eye, the matching bags under your eyes prove that your sleep was restless.

“hey,” he whispers back sheepishly, “i know you told me to go to bed, but i couldn’t fall asleep. i only came out here a few minutes ago though, and i was just going to wait until you woke up in the morning.”

you sit up straight, and pull max onto the couch with you, “max, what? you could’ve at least layed down on the other couch, and not sit on the–”

max cuts you off.

“i just…couldn’t go to bed alone tonight, okay? i still feel raw–i think is the word for it. i’m exhausted and cried out, and the only person who can make me feel better is you right now. so i was just going to sit here, and be next to you, without disturbing you like you wanted, because being in your general vicinity already makes me feel better, even if you're mad at me.”

your mouth is left gaping, and you feel guilty now, your chest aches. leaving max at a time where he was vulnerable, even if you were right down the hallway–

“and, don’t feel bad about your decision to sleep out here. you decided that space was the best course of action for you, and you are probably right, because i was ready to argue with you,” max continues rambling, “honestly, you sleeping out here made me realize that i never want you to be angry with me like that, ever again. at first, i was scared that if i opened up about my relationship with my dad you would think i’m weak, or that you'd judge me for it, or that you’d leave me. but when i was in the shower earlier, i got really…scared.”

he pauses, taking a few deep breaths and you don’t make to interrupt him.

“i got scared because i thought you left me right now. that you lied to me about sleeping on the couch, and you were actually planning to leave. and, obviously you did not, you are still here right now but, it made me realize that i do need to talk to you. and that the reason i thought you were leaving was because of how i thought i scared you away with my issues. but i realize now, that the way i’ll scare you away is by not talking about my issues,” he turns to look at you with an earnest expression.

“so, if you are okay with it, i will talk to you. about everything, even though it may take me some time to work up the courage. i am uncomfortable with talking to a…professional, but i will, if you truly think it will help me. but i do not want to risk the chance that my refusal to communicate costs me a lifetime with you,” he ends.”

you stare at him blankly, and max begins to fidget at your silence. you lean forward and pull him into a hug, tears gathering in your eyes. he nestles his head in the crook of your neck, and presses gentle kisses into your skin. 

“max, all i want is for you to talk to me about it. i want to share the burden you feel, and understand you better than the back of my hand. most of all, i hope having somebody who understands you to that depth makes you feel lighter, and validates your emotions.”

max says something, but it’s muffled by your body.

“what was that, baby?”

max pulls away to look at you with bashful eyes and pinkened cheeks, “you know i can’t imagine my life without you.”

“likewise,” you respond, just as meek.

“no, really. i've fallen in love with you,” he continues.

“max, you told me you loved me years ago,” you say laughingly.

“no, like, i’ve fallen in love with you again. everytime i think i can’t fall any deeper, you manage to prove me wrong,” he says intensely.

you pout at him, hands coming up to feel at your heated cheeks, “oh, max! stop, you’re going to make me cry. that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me. i fall in love with you again, everytime you finish a race, and come home to me. that you chose me as the man you want to see after a tiring race weekend, regardless of the outcome. 

max smiles all teeth, “there’s no other person i want to share my highs and lows with. well, hopefully more highs than lows. i have the ring for you already, but i at least need to win eight championships before i retire so you’re able to marry a record-breaking champion. i am proposing to you this year though, i cannot wait any longer.”

you stare at him unseeing for a minute, and he looks awfully confused for a man who just announced his plans to give you his last name. 

“max,” you start shakingly, “what do you mean you already have the ring?”

max’s carefree expression drops, and becomes pale, “what are you talking about? i never said anything about a ring–”

“you literally just did?! the part before you said you were proposing to me this year, and before becoming an eight-time world–”

max claps, cutting you off while standing up. he offers you his hand, “alright! we should go to bed now, right? together, yes that’s a great idea.”

taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems

© httpsserene 2023

[mindless-existence1]

Rottmnt brothers Sick Fics

Im making a new serise! This is where reader take care of their boyfriend while they are sick but make is rottmnt! This will be four chapters starting with Leo!

REQUESTS OPEN PLS SEND! REQUESTS OPEN FOR FLUFF AND KINKTOBER AS WELL!!

Aythors note: Thank you my boo boo bear for making this prompt for me! This is gn reader and Leo and all the brothers are aged up slightly so they are older teens/newly adults.

🍊: Y/n!

🍊: Y/n!

You: MIKEY! Why are you spaming me?

🍊: Leo's sick! And insufferable please come pick him up so we don't have to deal with him anymore 🙏🙏🙏

You: Why does he have to be my problem?????

🍊: Well he's asking for you?

🍊: Plus I'm almost 1000% sure Donnies about to throw him in the sewers for being annoying

You: Fine I'll be there soon

🍊: THANK YOU 🙏🙏!

You set down your phone onto your chest, you were peacefully laying on your bed when Mikey started texting you. With a groan you slowly start to get up and make your way to the lair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Time skip~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Guys?" You call through the lair while walking through the living room. Through the ceiling a swirl of blues pops up and drops out your boyfriend. He face plants on the ground and stays up before falling slack.

"Leo!" You rush towards him to help him sit up straight. "Babe! You're here! They're being so mean to me-" He drags out the last syllable of 'me'. Leo sniffles before giving you a hug and putting his face in the crook of your neck.

"Ew gross. I'm happy to see you to but get your sicko self away from me." You lightly push at his shoulders and he's weak enough in his sick state that it effectively gets him off of you.

He let's out a disgruntled whine but let's himself be pushed away. You slowly start to help him up off the floor as Donnie comes out of his lab, most likely to check out all the commotion. "Oh thank Galileo." He says with a please sigh. "Finally he's someone else's problem."

You finally get Leo off the floor and one arm swung over your shoulder, he's basically leaning all of his weight onto you. He seems to be out of it, probably drugged up on too many meds since all the human ones don't work well on him.

You look up towards his brother, "Is he really that bad?" You ask hopeful that the brother is over reacting. Donnie nods his head and and calls out "Good luck!" while walking back into his lab.

You sigh and watch him leave, putting your focus back on Leo when he starts to cough. Once his fit calms down you ask if he's ok. All he let's out his a hum and a sniffle.

"Alright, do you want to stay here or go back to my place?" Leo doesn't raise his head from where it's resting on on you. "You sound like you're trying to pick me up at a bar." He mumbles against your skin.

You laugh slightly and shake your head, "Do you want my help or not?" Your words lack any weight but he still whines at the idea of you leaving. "Your place." The mumble is quiet and you could only hear it since he was close to your ear.

"I'm assuming you can't use your sword right now so we'll have to somehow get to my car." You take a few steps forward but quickly realize holding up the terrapin while walking was extremely difficult. Especially when Leo refuses to take steps.

"I can still use my sword! Just watch." Before you can stop him Leo grabs his sword and makes a portal beneath you. For a second all you hear is a whooshing sound, it fades off as you fall into your apartments living room.

"Leo what the hell." You groan and push yourself off the floor and start to help Leo up as well. "I got us to your house didn't I?" He starts to cough as he says the last word.

"Yeah but you probably gave us both concussions." He groans when he has to stand and open his eyes to see the bright lights of your house. Leo mumbles "headache." So you move to turn them off after laying him down on your couch.

"What medicine have you had?" You ask your half asleep boyfriend. "I don't know, whatever Raph made me take." He speaks into the cushion making every word muffled.

"So I'm assuming I shouldn't give you any, want any tea or soup?" Your voice is soft so you don't hurt Leo's head more than it already is. "Tea would be nice." You give him a kiss on the part of his head that's not planted into the couch.

"I'll be back soon, try to get comfy." He mumbles something into the pillow as he starts to reach around for a blanket. After a few minutes of making Leo's favorite tea you head back to the living room.

You find a very comfortable looking Leo curled up in a hoard of blankets. "I got your tea, you want to watch anything?" You ask while setting his mug infront of him of the coffee table. "Jupiter Jim, I need him to save me." He coughs in-between his words but you understand and put in one of his favorites.

"Can do drama queen." You laugh at his tone. "You know what would really save me?" He asks with a teasing tone. You roll your eyes, already assuming it will be something dramatic. "If you came over and cuddled me."

You walk back towards him while shaking your head. "I don't want to get sick Leo." Your voice is whiney, although cuddling your boyfriend is one of your favorite things. Right now he seems very yucky.

"Please-" He drags out the last syllable time he's out of breath. He gives you puppy dog eyes that melt your heart a little. "Fine-" You hardly get the words out before he's yanking you into his blanket nest.

After getting comfortable and starting the movie you can tell Leo's starting to fall asleep. You are laying on your back against the arm rest of your couch, Leo is laying atop you with his head on your chest and arms wrapped around your waist.

"I love you y/n." His voiced is slurred with sleep and slightly muffled from how he's laying but it doesn't lose sentiment. Your hand that was lightly scratching his shell pauses as you look down at the now past out turtle.

"I love you to Leo." You give him a kiss on the forehead and pause the movie. After getting a bit more comfortable you resume your scratches and start to lull off into sleep.

[spnbabe67]

I'm Right Here

Kinktober Day 18: Fluffy Sex (D.W)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem Original Character

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, PiV, Dorkiness

Summary: Part Two to Come And Do It For Me. Otherwise known as Dean's homecoming

Word Count: 1475

Authors Note: Title inspired by the song Right Here by Chase Atlantic

Tag List: @zepskies @king-of-milf-lovers @nightxcreature @

Tori never slept well when Dean was away. The bed felt too big, like the mattress and comforter were going to manifest into jaws and swallow her whole. She got too cold too easily, without Dean as her built-in space heater the chill of the concrete bunker seeped through every crack in the blankets, absorbing into her skin until she was shivering. And then there were the nightmares. Ghastly and unsettling, the faces of the people she’d lost on hunts, the people possessed by demons that they were too late to save, the near death experiences. She often woke up in a cold sweat, hearth thundering in her chest faster than a hummingbird's wings, disoriented from the pure darkness of the bedroom. The event in and of itself wasn’t new, and wasn’t awful. Tori struggled with night terrors long before getting into hunting, seeing monsters before she even knew they were real. What was nerve wracking was waking up to images of Dean dead or dying in horrific ways burned into the inside of her eyelids, and then reaching for him beside her only to grasp cold sheets.

It was part of the reason she stuffed Dean’s pillow, drowned in his cologne, into one of his flannels, worn soft from use. Tori had wrapped her arms around it, snuggling into it as she drifted off to sleep. It was nowhere near as good as the real thing, but it would do for the last night Dean and Sam would be away. Dean had texted her that afternoon that they were on the way back, but probably wouldn’t be arriving back at the Bunker until midmorning the following day. One more night. He might as well have told her it would be another week. But Tori put on a brave face, telling Dean to drive safe and to come home to her in one piece. 

Tori tucked herself into their bed, nuzzling her face into her makeshift body pillow, wrapping her entire body around it, hoping and praying that the sleep gods would be kind to her. She let Hypnos welcome her with open arms, falling into a relatively dream-free slumber, nothing but warm, inky darkness enveloping her. The bliss was short lived, however, as she could feel herself toeing the line between wakefulness and sleep. She tossed and turned, unable to stay comfortable. Each time she felt herself starting to drift off into that deeper level of unconsciousness, her leg would start to itch under the cast, or her arm would start to go numb or that one tiny hair curled just right at the base of her neck and made it feel like something was skittering across her skin.

Eventually her psyche evened out, bobbing along the waves of unconsciousness like a dinghy on the open ocean; it wasn’t the deepest sleep, but she wasn’t awake either. Somewhere deep in her consciousness mind she registered the safe feeling she associated with Dean sweep over her, instantly soothing her restlessness. Tori reached out to that soothing energy, feeling it smooth over her. It was like he was here, she could almost feel his warm body next to hers. Wait. Tori blinked sleepily, slowly registering that her pillow she thought that she’d been sleeping against was way too warm for an inanimate object. 

“De?” Tori mumbled.

She felt that rush of exhilaration as she felt, truly, not in a dream, felt Dean’s hand smooth up and down her arm. 

“I’m right here, Sweetheart.” His low timbre resonated in his chest right next to Tori’s ear. 

She blinked, wide awake now. Tori sat up. “Dean? What’re you-You weren’t supposed to be home until tomorrow!” 

Tori didn’t let Dean get a word in edgewise, leaning over to greedily press her lips to his. He chuckled against her lips and Tori felt him slide a hand down to her waist, hugging her tenderly to his chest. 

“I didn’t text you until we were halfway home already.” Dean said between kisses, both of them letting their hands wander all over each others bodies. “I wanted to surprise you.”

Tori giggled as Dean’s fingers ghosted over her side, having slid under the t-shirt she had been wearing. “Well, mission accomplished.” 

Tori let her hands explore, testing and feeling to see if Dean was hurt, but her poking and prodding didn’t yield any tender areas. She smiled against his mouth as Dean, who must have been fed up with her doing an impromptu physical exam, pinned her hands above her head. 

“I’m fine. Sammy is a little worse for wear.” Dean placed a kiss to the junction of her jaw and neck. “But I’m fine. Came home in one piece, just like you requested.”

“Mm,” Tori hummed, arching her chest upwards to him, seeking his touch. “You better have, mister.”

Dean nipped at her neck in response, his other hand sliding to her hip, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Tori knew that he knew that she meant well. Dean had a tendency to play down any injuries he had in a chivalrous, although misguided, attempt to protect her. She knew he knew she wasn’t some fragile porcelain doll to be set up on a shelf away from their reality. 

“Just get down here and love me already.” Tori tried to pull her hands, still held captive by Deans, away from his grasp in an attempt to touch him again. 

“As you wish.” Dean smiled against her tummy as he let go of her wrists in favor of pushing her t-shirt up her body, pressing a kiss just above her navel.

“God you are such a nerd.” Tori laughed breathlessly as she helped him tug her shirt off, squealing as he pinched her side.

“You love it.” He nipped at the vulnerable skin on the underside of her breast as he worked his way back up her body. 

“I-” Tori pulled Dean’s shirt off too before kissing him sloppily. “I really do. I love it when you talk nerdy to me.”

They both snorted at her joke as Dean pulled away to remove his jeans. “God I love you.”

Tori’s nose crinkled as she smiled up at him, shimmying out of her borrowed boxers. Her heart swelled as Dean ran a hand up her injured leg, touch so tender around her cast. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss over the plaster, trailing his lips higher and higher up the top of her thigh. He stopped at her hipbone to place a kiss over her own anti-possession tattoo that was inked into her olive skin there before migrating back up her body. 

“I missed you, Beautiful.” Dean murmured into her mouth as he nudged against her entrance. 

Tori wrapped her arms around him, letting him settle nearly his full weight atop her as he worked himself into her. She loosely threaded her fingers through his hair, hissing through her teeth at that delicious stretch of him. 

“Missed you too, De.” Tori sloppily kissed him, wrapping her legs around his waist as he ground his hips into her. 

Tori tipped her head back as Dean mouthed at her neck. His hand creeped up her arm, pinning her hand to the bed beside her head, his fingers laced into hers. Tori wrapped her fingers around his as she moaned, that gentle pull low in her belly slowly gaining traction. She squeezed her thighs around his waist, bucking her hips up to meet his movements, feeling that sweet sensation of his pubic bone against her clit. The weight of him on top of her was so incredibly grounding, satiating a craving for him she’d been fighting for days. He’s here. Right here. He’s okay. The reassurance played in her head like a broken record as Dean lovingly kissed her, smoothing a hand up and down her thigh hooked high on his hip. It was like he knew the train of thought chugging it’s way through her psyche. 

“That’s it, Sweetheart. Let it go, let go for me.” Dean uttered quietly, his own moans spurring her on as much as him rutting into her. 

Tori moaned shakily as she came around him, her thighs shaking against his body, inner walls clenching around him, triggering his own release. She shuddered as Dean moaned lowly in her ear, spilling his cum inside her. When Dean made to move off her, Tori held fast, keeping him on top of her, his head resting on her chest. 

Tori could feel herself growing sleepy, lazily carding her fingers through his hair, letting her nails occasionally scratch against his scalp. “I never realized how quiet the Bunker is without you and Sam here.” 

Dean looked up at her from where he’d been tracing small patterns on her arm. “You sayin’ were loud?” 

Tori tugged on his hair. “Shut up.”

“I love you too, Sweetheart.”

[sashi-ya]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ エロチックトバー２０２４> MDNI / EXPLICIT CONTENT ⚠️

BROKEN PROMISE 💦 SOSHIRO HOSHINA X F! READER ＫINKTOBER DAY 19: ONSEN SEX

🐙 requested by: Anonymous. Hello! I saw your event request i was wondering if could i have a request for Hoshina Soshiro from Kaiju no 8 with fem reader in day 19? ⚠️ tw: mdni. explicit content. soshiro is your ex, imagine why he asked reader why they should split up (is up to you). sex at an onsen. fingering. biting. smut and angst and fluff. 🐙 wc: 1.1k // kinktober 24 masterlist // join the taglist

When everybody is gone, and just the two of you stay… When the onsen waters are relaxing, but the imagery of your wet bodies isn’t…  When the promise not to touch each other, no more, gets broken… 

“Soshiro, don’t look at me with those eyes” you spit, trying to look anywhere but his abs. 

“I am not looking at you with these eyes…” he jokes, getting comfortable, laying his back on the rocky side of the natural pool. His muscular arms straightened along the side, allowing the world to enjoy the perfection of his biceps. 

You click your tongue; he thinks you don’t know him… he thinks you don’t know he is watching at you even when it looks he is closing his eyes. 

“Soshiro, you are my ex. We decided this. YOU, wanted this” you spit; it is, indeed, the truth. Soshiro has requested you a time off while he is gone to train Kafka. Why would he want to do that? Does he have someone special waiting back at his hometown? Fuck this!

“I am your ex, yes… you are right. I’m sorry, I can’t help it when you appear in front of me, wearing such a tiny bikini… I’ll go; I should sleep. Long trip tomorrow” he sighs; sad. Soshiro clearly hates the fact he can’t touch you, enjoy your body and soul like every night. 

You take your eyes off him in such a cold way; it feels cold, like ice. It hurts; but you still have a pride to preserve. You don’t really need to lose anymore valuable things… 

However, what are you proud of? Of looking away and not fight for your man? For Soshiro? 

“Soshiro… don’t- don’t go…” you stutter, swimming up to where he was sitting. 

The kitsune fighter stops right on his tracks; he slowly turns around to look at you. You were expecting a mocking smirk; perhaps even a rejection façade. But Soshiro couldn’t look at you with eyes different from pain… 

“If I get back into the water I won’t be able to stop; and I’m telling you this because I know I was the one who asked you to end our relationship” he says, holding the white towel around his hips with a single finger. 

You take a deep breath; this time your eyes can’t look anywhere else but his eyes. Your insides are a mess, your heart, ablaze. 

“Come back, please…” you decide your faith; instinct won, lust prevailed. 

“Very well, then…” he answers back, letting the towel to fall down the floor. 

You gasp; thankfully it is a pretty private onsen. Haruichi’s family allowed the squad to relax on one of their private onsen and spa. 

Soshiro walks like a cat the very few steps that separates the side of the natural pool and him; slowly, maybe like a god entering sacred waters, he lets his body be engulfed by the wet warmth. 

Even slower, is the way in which he comes closer to you. Soshiro has never been gentle, but this time feels painfully sexy, waiting for him to finally surround your body with his arms, for his kisses to finally be left upon your flesh. 

With the back of his index tracing your facial features, Soshiro lets you know how much he still loves them. With his free hand, he unties the little knot that holds your bikini top around your neck… 

“You are too beautiful to let a cheap piece of fabric cover your body” he whispers… ah, Soshiro, how can you be such a deadly poet? 

You shiver to his words; that’s him… he hasn’t change.

He shows off his prominent fangs that shine to the orangey lights of lanterns garnishing the place. You know exactly what he will do next; bite, bite, bite… 

Probably on its own, your head moves slightly to the side to let your neck exposed. Soshiro is pleased, he has trained you well. 

He proceeds, then, to carve his teeth on your flesh; just right where your pulse feels stronger, as if he wanted to drew blood from your carotids. 

And while he bites and kisses, his fingers swim down the water and into your sex. It is enough for him to slide your bikini bottom to the side, after all that little triangle was barely covering your heated core. 

“Even though the water is hot, your insides are always hotter” he purrs into your ear while he begins fingering you with increasing rhythm; with merciless beckoning motions that make the water around you become turbulent due to your spasming muscles. 

Your nails carve on his shoulders; your breasts squeeze against his well trained -and pretty scarred due to that Kaiju no. 10 fight- chest. One of your legs begins to float and he snatches it with his free hand for you to surround his waist.

You press your forehead against his; the tip of your noses touching, your lips begging for his. 

“Should I go further? Wont you get mad at me?” 

“I can’t ask you to stop… I need you, Soshiro. Don’t leave me, don’t – make love to me one last time if you are leaving…” you whine those words into his mouth, pleading, sad and still completely given to his fingering delight. 

Soshiro sighs, a mix of pain and lust in the air… what to do? 

allow his body to take over? His heart? But if both want the exact same thing, and that’s just you… 

He doesn’t hesitate no more, and Soshiro quickly takes his fingers from your insides and grabs his hardness to line it up with your entrance. 

A few pumps go smoother underwater; the penetration pushes a little bit of water into you, making you feel even fuller. 

Your legs hug his waist when he is completely deep into you. Your arms surround his shoulders; his hands gripping you tightly from the back of your thighs and ass. 

Water helps you float, but it is him who is moving his and your body. Soshiro’s hips start to pump in and out of you, this time turning calm waters into violent tsunami. The sexy calm has been left behind, now it is his feral, passionate, lustful self who is desperate to fuck you with no peace. 

You jump on his dick; his fangs carve into your lips. Pulling them, kissing you nonstop. Air is scarce, the humid ambience makes it even difficult. 

“I told you… I told you… ngh… fuck… I told you I wasn’t gonna be able to stop” “I never, ever, wished for you to stop… don’t stop… Soshiro ~” 

Taglist of amazing babes: @adaizel @ariesbbytings @animesnowstorm @lenablack9919 💕🌻

[blue-slxt]

Kinktober 31

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

Kinktober Masterlist

A/N: Happy Halloween! We've reached the end of Kinktober! It's such a bittersweet feeling. But I'm so happy with the turn out and with all the love that you guys have shown over this past month! Writing all these prompts took a lot out of me so I'll probably take a short smut break after this. I'll still be writing in the background, but I want to branch out and do more fluff pieces and other things too. But best believe, the smut WILL be back shortly. Anyways, thank you guys for everything and I hope you guys enjoy this! I wrote this with the understanding that female Alphas have a knot inside of them and Omega males have the sheathed penis. You can find out more in this post. So just keep that in mind! I was partially inspired by the fic Howling For You by @theblueflower05 (It's one of my faves and I highly recommend it!) All characters are aged up.

Pairing: Omega!Lo'ak x Alpha!Fem!Metkayina!Reader

Warnings: Smut, P in V, Oral (M receiving), Scenting, Knotting, Creampie, Mentions of Anal, ABO, Territorial Reader

Almost everything about your attitude was all Alpha. You stood proud and strong. A self-assured, commanding presence in any situation you were in. You could be aggressive at times, but never out of any sense of malice or superiority. It was simply your nature. A pure, red-blooded Alpha in every sense. Almost.

The one thing about you that was a bit different. You had a certain…affinity for soft things. You kept your marui lined with the softest fabrics that hands could weave. Lush blankets and delicate tapestries. You loved the feeling of the plush sand beneath your feet and the sound of soft early morning waves wading into the shore. But what you loved the best? Soft moans and whimpers from soft boys in the domineering grip of your hips.

Soft Omega boys set your heart on fire in a way that was incomparable. You knew you couldn’t be with another Alpha. Not because Alpha-Alpha relationships didn't happen, but because you were too stubborn and proud to let someone try to dominate you. But something about Omega boys was just so enticing to your senses.

So when you first set eyes on Lo’ak, you immediately wanted to devour him whole. Maybe it was his scent that smelled like fresh fallen forest rain on exotic flower petals and tree bark. Or maybe it was his foreign, tawtute features that others outcast him for which made him seem more vulnerable. Or maybe it was the instant images that your mind conjured of his slim build trapped between the toned muscle of your thighs. Whatever it was, you just knew you had to have him and you would bare your fangs at anyone that dared to try and stand in your way.

You were straightforward in your approach with Lo’ak. Immediately, you approached him with all your confidence offering him an arm band that you had made to match the beads in his braids. You circled him slowly appraising and appreciating his deep royal blue skin and lean muscles. You take the chance to subtly sneak a whiff of his scent and Eywa, your mouth nearly starts to water.

“See you around, sayrìp” you said lightly dragging your tail across his thigh as you walked past him. And from that moment on, Lo’ak may as well have been a fish caught in your undercurrent. He started trailing after you everywhere like an ilu pup follows its mother.

He could be brash and rough around the edges when it came to getting along with other males in the clan. Namely, Ao’nung and his crew. But he was all velvet when it came to you. Always soft murmurs in your ear on the mornings he would find himself waking in your marui. Burying his face in your chest nuzzling his nose at your soft skin. Feather-light kisses he’d press against your neck that would turn into hands exploring down the front of your body lower and lower.

And you could be…territorial. A credit to your nature, you would turn over still half asleep and bury your face into the crook of his neck scenting him in the early hours of the day. Rubbing your own scent all over him. You had this inexplicable need to have him wear your scent at any and all times. Completely bathe him in it to ward off any other Alphas that would be stupid enough to try and move in on your precious lover. You wanted to mark him in every way and he would let you.

Today’s been particularly grating for you. Your hunt was less than fruitful. One of your favorite necklaces broke sending beads flying all over the beach. And worst of all, you saw another female looking at Lo’ak; trying to get close to him. That won’t do. Not today. Not ever. Of course, the second she locked eyes with you, she rolled her eyes in annoyance and left with a huff. She should count herself lucky that you left her with eyes to roll.

Deep breaths are supposed to be calming for the mind, but right now, they are doing little to quell the fire in your chest. Nevertheless, you put on your best face when you approach Lo’ak. Before you even reach him, he already picked up on your scent and turns in your direction. His arms reach out to you as he walks over.

“I missed you, babe. Are you done with all your tasks for the day?” he asks with his slim tail swaying giddily back and forth behind him.

The human nickname rolls off his tongue so effortlessly and it never fails to make your stomach flip. You think he is truly too good for this world as you walk into his waiting embrace.

“Something like that. It has been a really long day. Can we just go home?” you say rubbing your face into his chest while his arms fold around you and he kisses the top of your head.

“Of course.”

Lo’ak can tell on the walk back to your marui that something is bothering you. He knows you well enough by now to know that your tail only flicks like that when something is heavy on your mind. However, he also knows you well enough by now to know better than to try and make you talk about it before you’re ready.

When you reach your marui, you secure the flap over the opening to give you both some privacy. “Lo’ak, I have a problem.” You say with a small voice that definitely doesn’t fit you.

He cocks one of his brows at you waiting for you to elaborate. He watches you cautiously as you stalk closer to him.

“You see, even though everyone knows that I intend to take you as my mate, other girls are still looking at you. Trying to get close enough to smell you when I’m not around…”

Your voice gets stronger with each step closer you take. “Even though you lay with me every night and it is my gifts that you wear and my scent that lives in your skin, it’s not enough…” Your body finally presses right up against his and you keep moving forward, pushing him back against a post. His eyebrows and ears are raised looking down at you. Despite the slight height difference between you, when you get like this, it makes his breath tremble in his throat.

“Yawne, you know I--”

He’s cut off by the feeling of your fingers ghosting over his tewng and lightly tracing over where his dick was still sheathed.

“See, Lo, I really really hate it when others are trying to move in on what’s mine…I’m just bad at sharing in that way…” your long, nimble fingers make quick work of undoing the tie on his tewng and letting it fall leaving him bare in front of you. You slowly sink to your knees holding his gaze the whole way down. You tease at his slit with a quick lick from your tongue making him gasp.

“You already know I’m only yours, yawne.” He says with a quiver in his voice that has your body heating up.

“Oh, of course I do, my love. But I need everyone else to know it, too. So tonight, you can be as loud as you want to be. As a matter of fact, I want you to be.” You say teasing him even more with your mouth until his cock is fully exposed and standing proud in front of your face. Your eyes nearly cross with it coming to its full glory aimed straight at your lips.

A smirk plays on your lips looking up at him.

“Eager for me to mark you? Does the idea of it turn you on, sweet boy?” you tease with kitten licks to the tip of his dick and he flinches turning his head away from you.

“Look at me.” Your voice is firm and commanding. He doesn’t dare to defy you when you give him a direct order. His eyes meet yours in a fiery tug-of-war that you easily win when his expression softens. Fuck.

In no time at all, you suck his entire length into your throat and the shudder that racks his body is probably one of your favorite things to witness. Every suck and slurp is met with another beautiful whine or whimper from his mouth. It drives you and your need to ruin him. You keep your tongue pressed firmly to the underside of his cock and apply light pressure just the way you know he loves. His head lolls back against the post and his fingers claw at the wood looking for something to ground himself with.

Hushed whispers of pleas for more appear in the back of your head. You bob your head faster looking up at him and watch his face scrunch in pleasure while you work on him. You sneak a hand up and under to cup his balls and give a gentle squeeze and Lo’ak sucks in a sharp breath between his clenched teeth. His hips buck into your face and chase the warmth of your mouth. You loved watching him lose his composure and take what he needed from you. Watching him be so needy for release that he can’t bring himself to care about his position as an Omega and just fuck you with wild abandon was so damn sexy. You could practically feel the slick running down your inner thighs.

Hallowing out your cheeks, you can feel every ridge and vein drag against your mouth. Lo’ak starts to lose it, letting his hips jut forward and meet your movements.

“Ah…fuck” he curses under his breath watching you so eagerly take his whole length into your mouth.

You steady yourself against him and push his dick all the way into your throat until your nose is flush with his pelvis. You lightly stroke your finger up and down the underside of his balls and his face screws up in lust as his climax tears through his core.

“Haaah-ah!” His hands reflexively hold on to your hair keeping you in place for his cum to run down your throat. It coats your throat and makes you gag around him, but the sound only drags out the feeling for him.

When he releases you, you come up for air and his body falls back against the post. His legs just barely have the strength to keep him upright. “Satisfied?” he pants out to you with a grin.

You meet his expression with a mischievous smirk, “Not even close”.

You rise to your feet already untying your own tewng to discard it somewhere across the floor. Lying down on your plush sleep mat, your knees fall open and your fingers spread your slick-covered cunt open for him.

Lo’ak feels like he should be embarrassed at how quickly he’s hard again, but how can he bring himself to care about that when you’re lying there sprawled open for him in silent invitation? He’s pulled to you as if he was entranced by you and your scent. Your grin is devilish in watching him resign himself to his desires. His hips slot right into place between your thighs and he’s already dragging his tip between your folds and brushing against your swollen clit.  

He lightly slaps the little nub with his dick making your hips jump and an arrogant grin finds its way onto his face.

“Lo’ak…” it’s meant as a warning, but Lo’ak takes it as a challenge.

“What’s wrong, yawne? I thought you liked being teased.”

He wasn’t wrong. You did like it when he teased you. Putting a bit of power in his hands and stroking his ego made your head feel fuzzy with pleasure. But with the kind of day you’d had, you were feeling especially impatient. Your fingers hook under his necklace and pull his face closer into yours. You can hear how his breath stutters and you see how his half lidded gaze dances around your face, lingering at your lips.

“I need this, Lo’ak.”

He smiles gently leaning forward to crash his lips onto yours. The taste of him still fresh in your mouth and it makes even more blood rush straight to his cock that was slowly breaching you. You both moan into each other’s mouths savoring the feeling of your warmth almost literally sucking him in. It’s almost as if your body won’t be satisfied until you’ve completely enveloped him into your skin.

He starts a steady pace of long, strong strokes making you feel every vein and ridge of him. His tip presses perfectly into the spongey part of your walls as he drags it almost all the way out, only to kiss your cervix when he presses back inside.

“Ohh…fuck…” your head falls back reveling in the feeling of the first real sense of relief you’ve had all day. Lo’ak takes the opportunity to litter your neck in kisses, licks, and nips. You smile deliriously to yourself as you let this beautiful man fulfill his fantasies with your body. His breath is hot and uneven against your skin as his pace picks up. The sound of skin slapping against skin gets louder the faster he goes.

Your hands claw at his back holding him close to you. The scent of his pheromones gets stronger in your nose making your eyes roll. His hands grab your legs by the backs of your knees and holds them open so he can angle his hips the way he knows you love.

“Ah! Right there! Feels so good right there!”

“Mmm, I love fucking you like this, sevin. Feel so perfect on my cock.”

Your face scrunches and you can feel your knot beginning to swell inside you. He groans above you feeling his tip meet the resistance and he tries eagerly to push past it and let you have him wholly.

“Oh, Great Mother! I’m going to cum, Lo’ak!” your voice is loud and his groans are even louder. Surely anyone in the vicinity would hear you and know, but that’s exactly what you wanted. Your hands find his face so that you can capture his lips in another kiss. It’s a messy clashing of teeth and tongues, but full of a desperation that has your pussy clenching harder around him. His strokes get longer and he puts his full weight behind every one, finally pushing past the resistance of your knot and tipping you over that edge.

“Ahhn~ Lo’ak!”

He keeps rolling his hips into you as he reaches his own release and you milk him dry.

Both of you huff out breaths trying to steady your own breathing. Sweat beads start to form on his forehead and his eyebrows are scrunched together feeling how your knot won’t let up on his poor sensitive cock. His head falls to lay on your chest and his eyes close trying to stop the spinning in his head. You stroke his head lovingly eliciting soft purrs from him.

Days later, you stand with Lo’ak and his siblings around the fire at communal dinner celebrating the first hunt of the season. Neteyam and his mate are retelling the story of one of their warrior students and how they taught him to make a clean kill when a sudden chill runs down your spine.

“Hi, Lo’ak” the most aggravating voice you’ve ever heard calls to your boyfriend beside you. You both turn to find Nìvya, the other Alpha that you caught looking at Lo’ak the other day. She completely disregards your presence despite standing right next to him.

“Would you like to dance with me?”

She’s either extremely bold or extremely stupid. Either way, you are ready to rip her throat out with your teeth when you let off a low hiss in her direction. The only thing that saves her is Lo’ak placing a gentle hand on your waist to calm you.

“Thanks, but no thank you. I’m fine where I am. Isn’t that right, yawne?” He says burying his face into the crook of your neck sweetly.

You smile while you cut your eyes at her in warning. Nìvya’s face falls and she finally acknowledges your presence by looking at you. She rolls her eyes bitterly and stomps off in the direction that she came.

Your tail swishes happily behind you, pleased with how Lo’ak handled himself in the situation. You turn your head to look at him with a satisfied grin.

“What?” he asks seeing the gears turning in your head.

“You’re so sexy when you claim me, you know that?” you whisper to him dragging your fingertips down his chest in teasing touches and pausing right above his tewng. “You wanna get out of here?”

He chuckles lightly, “What about the rest of the party?”

You push up on your tiptoes so that you can whisper directly into his ear, “I’ll let you put it in the other hole this time.”

Lo’ak’s face is completely flushed all over when you pull away to look at him again. His tail is thrashing violently behind him and his ears are standing straight up.

Clearly excited by your proposal, he quickly turns to your group and excuses the two of you. “Too much to drink and ready to turn in” was what he said.

Nobody was buying it, though. Everybody knew that Lo’ak could out-drink anybody there. But no one was going to call him out on it.

Wild giggles erupt from you when he gleefully scoops you up into his arms and sets off into the direction of your marui.

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[pimosworld]

Never have I ever

Kinktober Prompt-Voyeurism,Squirting,Polyamory

Pairing -Will Miller x f!reader x Tf boys x f!reader

Summary-You and the boys play a game and things take an interesting turn.

CW-18+,MDNI,NSFW, Voyuerism, Smut, Fluff, Rough sex, Dom Will, mentions of anal, mentions of MM dynamics, restraints, mentions of safe word but no use, established poly relationship, Unprotected PIV, cream pie, squirting, aftercare. Appropriate discussion of past relationships.

WC-4K

A/N- Set in the story of us verse but can be read as a stand alone. Reader is not race coded, no use of Y/N. This is my current WIP procrastination, when lightning strikes you must write. My first kinktober prompt. I just reached 400 followers and this is 4000 words so I’m gonna take this as my follower celebration as well.

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

“Ben, are we seriously playing this?” The five of you are situated comfortably in your usual spots in the living room and somehow the younger Miller has convinced you all to ‘make things more interesting’ in his words. 

  “I’m too old for this.” Frankie mumbles into his beer as he downs the rest. 

  “We know…that doesn’t mean you’re getting out of it.” You chuckle briefly as Santi’s hand skirts higher up your thigh under the blanket. He’s been slowly torturing you as you relaxed on the couch, all of you decompressing and going over your week. It was a new ritual to discuss the ins and outs of your time apart but it seemed Ben was growing tired of the normal mostly mundane conversation.

  “Hands up let’s go.” The impatient Miller barks from his spot on the floor, too big to fit anywhere else and you're always unsure of why Will won’t just get a bigger couch. You suggested a few months ago that it would be nice for all of you to be able to relax together. He agreed but evidently it takes time to find the perfect one. 

  Everyone reluctantly puts their hands up, Santiago opting for one hand because he can’t pry his other from the warmth of you under the blanket. The other part of you knows he’ll probably lose this game and he doesn’t feel like putting too much effort into revealing how much of a slut he was before he pulled his head out of his ass and finally told you how he felt. 

  “Both hands, Pope.” Frankie chides from beside you and Santi squeezes your thigh before drawing his hand out and flipping him off. 

  This game was an odd choice, almost completely out of left field. The five of you knew almost everything there was to know about each other. Although you’re sure the boys know a lot more about their respective sexual escapades than they know about yours. Nothing among these men is ever done by accident, you’re just waiting to see the angle that’s being played so you don’t end up trapped. The confused and amused looks on the others' faces has you a little at ease since it seems this is a solo mission for Ben and those didn’t always go as planned. 

  “I’ll start since it was my idea.” Will sends you a look from across the room as to say of course and you’re acutely aware that he hasn’t let out one protest or sign of stopping this game. You’re almost positive it’ll come down to you both in the end and he knows it judging by the smug look on his face. 

  “Never have I ever faked an orgasm.” You roll your eyes as you put one finger down. Maybe you were going to lose after all. The chuckles from the others don’t help your embarrassment, even though you should hardly blame yourself. It doesn’t need to be clarified that since you’d been with all of them there was no need to fake it anymore, but it was definitely known by all that you had to in the past an ungodly amount of times. 

  You brave a look up from the carpet that you’d all but memorized as you see Ben's wide tooth grinning at Frankie beside you. You look over just in time to see Frankie put his finger down as the redness creeps up his neck. He’s staring daggers at the younger Miller and Santi’s chuckles send vibrations through your body as you lean into him. 

  “How did she not know?” You ask him in the sweetest tone, no judgment behind it, just genuine curiosity. 

  He scrubbed his hand over his jaw, his calloused fingers digging into the patchy part of his beard. No doubt thinking how long this night will be if we have to explain each finger down,but of course that’s always Ben’s plan. He wants to draw this out for as long as he can. 

  “I pulled out and spit on her back.” He says it so sheepishly you almost feel bad for him. An image flashes in your mind and you make the mistake of looking over at Will who is doing his best to not completely lose it. You cup your mouth trying to suppress the giggle but it’s far too late. 

  “Laugh it up honey.” The funniest part is how could anyone not be thoroughly enjoying themselves when Francisco Morales is behind the wheel, but you figure it’s their loss. 

  You wrack your brain for something you’ve never done that they may have.Blowjob,one night stand,sent a nude photo,had sex in public…those are all out. 

  Will interrupts your thoughts as he speaks from the loveseat. “Never have I ever had a threesome.” He just saved you in more ways than one as you see Benny and Frankie glance at each other as they put a finger down. Santi tsks beside you and you don’t even have to look over to see he did as well. 

  You miss the look Santi shoots Frankie above your head as he makes a mental note. Ben may have been a thorn in his side at times but right now he could kiss the ground he walked on. Unbeknownst to you this has turned into a silent competition of memorizing everything you’ve never done,each time you don’t put a finger down he clocks one of them. He doesn’t even care that he’s about to lose as the room thrums with sexual tension. 

  As you predicted you and Will have the most fingers left. You have three,Will has two and Benny has one that he’s been holding onto for dear life. Santi and Frankie had long been out, Santi rejoins the group after refreshing your drinks. He knew he hasn't missed anything since it was getting harder to think of things as the game went on. 

  You need to get Ben out and you were sure this next question would. If it also took one down for Will then you would just be getting lucky you guessed. 

  “Never have I ever done anal.” Santi stifles a moan next you as Frankie not so subtly adjusts the growing bulge in his jeans. You were so focused on winning that you have no idea how thin of a thread they were holding onto. Frankie’s been fighting the mental image of checking each thing off your list one by one. Santiago isn’t faring much better not having realized how much innocence was still lying dormant in you. 

  Ben concedes as he grabs the pillow he was using on the floor, your brace for the moment that he decides to toss it at you only for him to place it gingerly in his lap. 

  “Welcome to the club.” Frankie mutters under his breath as you stare down Will who now has one finger up…interesting. 

  “Never have I ever been tied up.” Fuck

  You put a finger down and wait for the responses that eventually never come. Will was playing dirty, he knows for a fact you’ve been tied up. It had only been a week since he asked you if you wanted to try it. 

  This was it,you had to go for the kill…but how bad did you want to win? You know there’s only one way but it will certainly come at a cost. In the end the cost may be worth it. 

  You raise up on the couch sitting back on your heels,proudly displaying the two fingers you have left. You can’t chance a look at anyone besides Will or you might chicken out. Frankie’s fingers grip nervously at the blanket that’s fallen next to you. He wants to reach out and touch you, the only sound over your beating heart is the rustling of the couch cushions as Santi leans forward just into your peripheral vision. Breath in…Breathe out 3,2,1. 

  “Never have I ever made someone squirt.” You say it so fast they almost don’t catch it…almost.

  “Ha…he’s never made anyone…” Ben is silenced mid sentence as Will closes his fist and leans back into the seat. He doesn’t really care that he’s lost, in reality he’s actually won this game. Judging by the shocked looks on their faces or Ben’s mouth hanging agape. You didn’t fully think this through, your brain was clouded with the thrill of winning. 

  He almost feels bad for you as he says the momentary look of triumph quickly turns into one of defeat. It’s written all over your face as the realization sets in that you’ve completely fucked yourself, you would be a horrible poker player because you just revealed all your cards. If this were a lion's den you were a fresh piece of meat. 

  A drop of sweat trickles down your back as you lower your hand slowly to place it on your thigh. The room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. 

  “Prove it.” Santi’s voice is so close to your ear you nearly jump out of your skin. 

  Will tilts his head at you as if to challenge you. This game was far from over and you’d be damned if you were going to lose. You stand from the couch and walk over to him. Four sets of eyes watching your every move as you grab his hand and pull him to stand. You raise your eyebrows as an acceptance to his challenge and he starts to lead you away from them toward the hallway. You sense no movement behind you as you make your way to his bedroom. 

  “You boys coming or not?”  A small stampede sounds behind you and you chuckle picturing them trying not to trample each other as their bodies catch up with their feet, no doubt all thought having left their brains. 

  ****

  Santi’s lost count, has it been five or six times Will has brought you to the edge only to pull away and deny you what you so desperately want and need. He’s no stranger to this game but he doesn’t think he’s ever been this turned on by it. Watching from a whole different viewpoint. Being a spectator is thrilling and watching you writhe and chase his touch after each denial makes his cock achingly hard in his jeans. 

  Frankie’s not doing much better as he tries to follow Will's rules he laid out before starting. If you want me to show you then you don’t touch her unless I tell you to. The captain in him didn’t come out often anymore but when it did he commanded respect. 

  Ben stares on with excitement and curiosity written all over his face. He watches as you grip the sheets, your chest heaving as sweat beads down your forehead. Will told you not to touch yourself and Ben didn’t know you could be so obedient. 

  Wills got you so on edge you can’t be shy anymore about the way you beg for him and plead for him to let you come. A far cry from when you first entered the bedroom. 

  He had slowly undressed you and instructed you to lay flat on the bed. He crawled over your body kissing and biting his way up your thighs and your stomach. His hand caressed your breast as his tongue laved over the other. It was too much and not enough as your eyes met the others standing in the room. They’d all seen you in this position before but something about them watching suddenly has you feeling vulnerable. 

  “Look at me.” He leaned in and kissed you, deep and passionate as his hand gripped your waist and his tongue prodded your mouth. An expert distraction to bring you back to the moment. 

  “It’s just me and you.” It was the last thing he said to you before he methodically took you apart right before their eyes. You knew he was taking his time, putting on a show. He wasn’t simply going to make you squirt and move on like some conquest. He wanted to draw this out, show them what he was capable of. 

  He started with his mouth as his breath ghosted over your slick folds. He looked up at you through hooded lids one more time to give you a chance to back out, when you gave no indication of wanting to stop he dragged his tongue expertly through your slit. Parting it with his thumb as he dove in circling your clit. You were a goner from the beginning as he brought you to the first cliff only to leave you hanging. You cried out his name in desperation as he dipped two fingers in, pumping in and out as he bit down on your thigh. The pleasure and pain mixed in with you on display had your nerves alight. 

  With each denied release you can feel the pressure building in your core, it’s so close you can taste it on the tip of your tongue. You can taste yourself as he leans over you again kissing you through your whimpers as your body shakes beneath him. 

  “Will please…” Your sweet voice begging is like music to their ears. Frankie would give you whatever you want if you asked him but Will doesn’t budge. 

  “Please what sweetheart…I can’t read your mind.” 

  Son of a bitch he’s trying to kill you. 

  For all his resolve Santiago can’t help but be impressed. Even if this sudden burst of confidence is all a show for them he has to admit he would’ve caved by now and just went straight for the finale. 

  You’re not even sure when Ben and Frankie sat on the bed leaning against the headboard beside you, or when Santi sat at the end to have a perfect view of your pussy clenching around nothing as your arousal drips onto the sheets below. 

  “Please Will, I need you inside me…I need to come please.” You’re practically crying as he shushes you, his cock leaking precum on your stomach as it twitches in anticipation. He’s not going to be able to last much longer at this rate either. 

  He leans back on his heels as he grips the base of his cock, slapping your clit and dragging it through your slick as he slowly prods your entrance. The noise you make almost has him buckling as you sigh into it finally having what you want. 

  He starts at a slow pace as he wraps your legs around his waist, he can see the way your face contorts with every slap of his hips against yours. You can feel every vein and ridge as the lude sounds of your sweat and slick echo in the room. 

  You can’t see it from where you are but Frankie’s itching to touch you, desperately wanting to break the rule as he watches you try not to touch yourself. 

  Ben is mesmerized as he watches your breasts bounce with every thrust of Will's hips, he wants to latch onto you and bite down until you're screaming his name, but he knows his brother would do more than scold him if he so much as tried to touch you right now. 

  Santi’s waiting…waiting for any sign or movement as to how he does it. He’s thoroughly enjoying himself but he’s seen nothing new, nothing he hasn’t done to you a dozen times over. Any indication as to what Will has managed to do before the rest of them. It’s driving him a little mad as he watches you beg for it like you’ve never had it before. 

  You can feel the tension building as Will picks up his pace, he shifts your legs to either side of his head as he punches the air out of your lungs with every thrust. He brings his thumb down rubbing fast circles on your clit as you try to grab his wrist. That all too familiar feeling has you keen and arch your back. “Grab her hands.” Frankie moves before you can think, your wrists gripped tightly in one of his palms above your head. 

  “Wait…please.” He chuckles under his breath as his chest heaves with the sharp movements. Not mere seconds ago you were begging to come and now you’re begging him to stop. 

  You crane your head back and lock eyes with Ben, his eyes are etched with worry as he lays there helpless to your pleas. “Will!” 

  “She’s fine…aren’t you sweetheart?” You can’t think, he’s fucked you so dumb you cant remember your own name let alone formulate a sentence. “Yes.” Is all you can manage. 

  “She knows what to say if she wants to stop.” He grits through his teeth as his orgasm steadily approaches, his thighs burn and he’s surely bruised your calves as he grips tightly to them. 

  You’ve never safe worded with him and you don’t plan on it now. It feels so good as the searing hot sensation creeps up your spine threatening to take purchase in your brain. “Please don’t stop.” 

  He gestures to Frankie to grab the pillow, who moves with lightning speed as he situates it under your back. Santi looks at your face then, and he finally sees it. The look of panic and bliss as you succumb to the inevitable. He’s seen this look before but he ran from it afraid that he might hurt you. Will punches something deep inside you as he lifts your hips, the sound you make bordering on pornography while your arousal coats his stomach almost forcing him out of you completely. 

  He thrusts once and twice before nearly collapsing his weight onto you as he comes through your high. He releases your legs as he leans in to give you a kiss. Will was nothing if thorough and he always made sure you were okay. It’s in this moment that you truly feel like it’s just the two of you and not aware of the blissed out expressions of the other men. 

  “You did so good for me.” He pants out against your mouth as he desperately tries to catch his breath. 

  You highly doubt this is what Ben had in mind when he suggested this game but it ended much better than any of you would have anticipated. 

  Moments pass and you’ve just barely recovered. You’re in need of a shower and some water as you try to move slightly, the grip on your wrists tighten as you look back at Frankie. 

  Do it again. 

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