#you know what maybe i should just masturbate away all my frustrations

[jeonsweetpea]

Will It Fit?

Roommate!AU | Roommate!Jungkook x Reader

genre: fluff, smut, comedy, lil angst, slight idiots to lovers

rating: explicit

description: So what if your roommate caught you masturbating? At least he forgot about it the next day. But he can’t exactly forget the big dildo you left in your shared bathroom…

word count: 6.7k

warnings: size kink, JK has a big dick (no, really), slight pain kink, light choking, dirty talk, Dom!JK, flustered/shy JK at first, unprotected sex (this is fiction, we all wanna be raw-dogged by JK okay), lube, JK loves OC’s panties a LOT, fingering, mentions of masturbation, OC gets embarrassed at first but JK is sweet about it, oral sex (male & female receiving), cursing, Soft Dom!JK, JK is overly concerned with how big your dildo is, embarrassing moments from both parties, spanking, prone bone, creampie, confession scenes, 

a/n: As soon as I saw JK’s OJO face from that GCF, it kicked me into gear to write this. I’ve had this idea for SO long, but never had the motivation to finish it. I was supposed to release it last winter, so hope you’re all excited for it! Asks and reblogs are much appreciated (I read them all!). Also, much love to @jkeuphoriadreamland for bouncing ideas around with me. 

“[Y/N], I can hear you in there.” 

The muffled, disgruntled voice came from the other side of your door. Your eyes fluttered open and your hand stilled in your panties, your heart rate spiking. Maybe if you didn’t move a muscle, he’d go away. 

“I know you’re up,” he added. You rose up from your bed.

“Um… exactly what did you hear?” you squealed, face burning up at your terrible acting skills.

“Unlock this door.”

You didn't know what compelled you to saunter over and open the door a mere crack, but oh the sight before you was almost worth the humiliation. Jungkook was in nothing but gray sweats that sat dangerously low on his hips. He had a bad case of bedhead, but his locks looked so soft that you wanted nothing more than to grab onto them and make out with his beautiful lips, which were captivating you just as much as that intense gaze of his. 

“Hey… you…” you said with a meek smile, which he did not return.

“It’s 2 AM in the morning. I have work at 5. As hot as you sound, we either do something together so we both get satisfied or you let me get my rest because I am incredibly frustrated right now.”

Your eyes widened at his curt response. You’ve never seen him so tense, his tongue prodding the inside of his cheek as his glare bore into you. He leaned against your door frame with one arm, leaning in close enough to make you break eye contact. He tapped on the wooden frame with his index finger, awaiting your response. 

“Sorry…” 

God, you sounded absolutely pathetic . 

“Is that all your pretty lips are good for? Apologizing?” Before you could respond, he let out a tsk sound and retreated back to his bedroom. You stood there in a trance until his door shut loudly, snapping you out of it. You wondered if he realized how much worse he left you than when he found you. 

Fuck, was he always this hot when mad? 

You went back to your room after closing the door. Climbing into bed, you got under the covers and laid flat on your back deep in thought. The only reason you were masturbating in the first place was because your room was freezing cold. You thought the heater was fixed, but your room was somehow still the coldest one in the apartment. You knew you’d never be able to go to sleep at this rate, so you decided to do something that would tire you out and hopefully lull you into the rest you craved.

It was supposed to be simple. You, your hand, your phone, and sweet, sweet release. Damn Jungkook for interrupting you. It’s bad enough his room was nice and toasty while you were suffering. Yeah, you heard his loudass snores. You assumed he was deep in the REM cycle so how the hell did he catch your moans? Ugh.

If he was so annoyed with you, then he should have warmed you up instead!

You shook your head and got under the covers, groaning at your lewd thoughts. 

He’s my roommate. And he’s too good of a roommate for me to fuck things up. 

“Is that all your pretty lips are good for? Apologizing?”

Those words echoed in your mind. The way he changed his tone to a lower register with his Busan dialect slipping through was incredibly sexy. It was the perfect mix of frustration and anger and made your thighs rub together in want. Leaning over your nightstand, you opened the drawer and grabbed a velvet drawstring bag. Slipping off your pajama shorts, you pulled out your trusty dildo. Impatient, you closed your eyes and imagined Jungkook taking you right then and there. However, the moment you allowed the tip of the dildo to touch your entrance, all pleasure was lost. It was cold!

“Damn it…” you muttered. “I gotta warm it up. Ugh!”

You left your room in frustration and entered the bathroom, turning the sink on to the hottest setting and running it over your toy. 

This might’ve been the most desperate masturbation session you’ve ever had, but you didn’t care. This was all Jungkook’s fault!

The next morning was Saturday. You were eating your breakfast on the kitchen island while mindlessly scrolling on your phone when Jungkook came out of his room. As soon as you two locked eyes, you almost choked on your food and had to chug some water to calm down. The man, confused, ruffled his hair and watched you through drowsy eyes.

“Are you okay?” he said, followed by a yawn. 

You nodded as you beat your chest with your fist to get everything down. “Yeah… I just… didn’t expect you to be home. I thought you had work.”

“Oh,” He sounded more awake now. “I read my schedule wrong. Turns out I’m off every other Saturday now.”

“... Oh. Cool.”

He circled around the kitchen island to get to the fridge and you recalled last night’s events, mortified he had heard you. Should you apologize again? After all, you’re both two grown adults; there’s nothing to be ashamed about. If you didn’t say something now, that icky feeling would only fester inside you. 

“Hey Jungkook.”

“Yeah?” he said from behind the fridge door.

“About yesterday… I hope you can forget all about it.”

As the refrigerator door shut, you were greeted by the sight of the most adorable man sipping a carton of banana milk. His eyes were wide and brimming with curiosity from your words. 

“Did something happen yesterday? I was knocked out.”

You blinked at him twice. “Do you… not remember talking to me last night?”

“Hmm? I did? I was fast asleep, don’t remember a thing.” He took the seat next to you. “Why? What did we talk about?”

Pure relief washed over you like a tidal wave as you shook your head. “Oh, nothing much. My room’s a bit too cold. It was hard for me to sleep.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll talk to the landlord. Do you want to sleep with me?” You shot him an incredulous look and he began to stutter. “I-I mean! Sleep in my bed! Not with me in it. Unless you wanted to—ah—fuck me!

There. That’s the Jungkook you knew. He’s never crossed the line and flirted with you, so you didn’t either out of respect. But… It was too hard to resist teasing him. This was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

“Unless I wanted to… fuck you?” you repeated innocently. This was new territory for you—teasing him. His flustered reactions were so damn adorable though. The way his nose scrunched and his eyes darted around everywhere except for your face. If anyone was watching you, they’d swore you had hearts in your eyes. 

He set his drink down and proceeded to cover his face with both hands, panicking at his poor choice of words. “That didn’t come out right. Oh god… this is embarrassing.”

You covered your mouth to stifle your giggles. “It’s okay. I don’t want to peg you—I mean, take your bed.”

Jungkook dropped his hands, speaking the next sentence in pouts. “Hey, I don’t want to be peg—not the point. No, seriously. My room’s really warm.”

“I mean… if you really want me in your room, all you have to do is ask, you know,” you remarked. Jungkook’s cheeks were flushed with a tinge of pink, adding an extra charming element to his already cute self. Were you being too bold? 

It didn’t matter because seeing how his lips trembled and how he could barely hold himself together was fun to watch.

“I didn’t realize it was that easy…” he mumbled, more to himself than you. You tilted your head at him and he noticed how you crossed one arm over another “Not that I’m calling you easy!”

“Uh huh. I’m watching you, Jeon Jungkook. Hmph.”

“No, wait. I’m sorry.”

You placed your index finger on his lips to shush him, even going so far as to tap his lip piercing teasingly. “Is that all your pretty lips are good for? Apologizing?” 

You watched as his eyes widened once more and that caused you to realize what you were doing. My god. Using his own words against him was satisfying, but all this newfound confidence was going to get you in trouble. You cleared your throat and withdrew your hand, grabbing your breakfast plate and heading over to the sink before things could escalate.

“Uh… I’m gonna go to the gym. Run some errands or something,” Jungkook stammered as he got up, nearly toppling out of his stool. You bit your lip to hold in your laughter as he recomposed himself. Walking in the same direction, he flinched when you got near his proximity. “W-What are you doing?”

He’s so cute when nervous.

“Nothing. Grabbing my keys. I’m heading out too.”

“O-Okay.”

Your smile made his heart rate escalate. “Okay. I’ll see you later.”

You spent the day with your closest friends on a brunch date, followed by a trip to the mall, and then hot cocoa in the evening. It was much needed after the week you had and after bidding them farewell, you went back to your apartment. Upon entering, you took off your shoes and put them on the shoe rack.

“Jungkook? Are you home?” you called out. 

“Yeah! I just finished showering!” he called back in the distance. You went further into the apartment and plopped down on the couch. 

“Damn,” you muttered, rubbing your arms. “Wish I could have showered with him. It’s so cold outside…”

As if on cue, Jungkook called for you again. “[Y/N]? Could you come here?”

You took off your purse and slowly rose up from the couch, hesitant. This had to be a dream. Why would he need you to come to the bathroom? He must’ve forgotten a towel. Or a t-shirt. Or pants. The specifics didn’t really matter because your hormones were going berserk at the possibilities. 

You walked through the narrow hallway and stood in front of the bathroom door, excited at the thought of teasing him again. “I’m here. What’s up? Did you forget your towel or something? Silly boy.”

The door swung open and the shit-eating grin you had on your face dropped to the floor in an instant. 

“Why is there a dildo in the bathroom, silly girl?”

Shit. Quick, say something. Anything. Don’t just stand there like a gaping fish! Oh dear, how many seconds have passed? You must look like a total idiot.

Fuck! I forgot I left it here!!!

“Well…” you started to say, “I’m assuming it’s yours.”

Out of all the things your roommate could be calling you for, this was not on your radar. The awkwardness was more suffocating than the steam from his blazing hot shower minutes ago and you wished it lingered around long enough to make you disappear. 

Jungkook made a puckered face at your accusation, picked up the object, and shook it side to side, the bendy silicone material flopping everywhere. His big doe eyes were the highlight of his classic OJO face, the blatant confusion so adorable if you weren’t absolutely mortified. For the second time this week. 

God, and how could you even focus when he was dressed in nothing but a towel, his hair still slightly damp. The bulging muscles of his biceps were a feast for the eyes as well as his tattooed sleeve. You yearned for the day he’d use his arm as your necklace, but of course that shouldn’t be a priority at the moment. If anything, it was his fault you had to use a dildo anyway.

“[Y/N], you know damn well this isn’t mine.” He met your gaze and flashed you a soft smile, biting his lower lip. “I like mine bigger.”

You covered your face in shame, wishing the floor could open up and swallow you whole. “Good god, Jeon.”

“You still didn’t answer my question. Why is it in the bathroom?”

You gulped, finding enough strength to not die of embarrassment. “It’s getting colder outside and the heater doesn’t reach my room as well as it reaches yours. So…”

“Yeah…? But I’m not following.”

“The… thing in your hand—”

“Dildo?”

You visibly cringed. “Yes, okay, THAT. It got cold and I don’t like cold objects... Inside me. So I took it to the bathroom to run hot water on it to warm it up.”

“Before you use it?”

“No, to melt it. Yes, to use it!” you snapped, feeling the humiliation burning through your body. “I wasn’t aware you weren’t working today, remember? I clean it after each use so please just give it back!”

You ran over to yank it out of his hands, but he lifted it up high out of your reach. While cackling. That motherfucker. “Hey, maybe I want a turn.”

You had to bite back. “I knew you liked being pegged.”

“I do not!”

“Then give it back!”

“This thing is huge though. It fits?”

“I’m not having this conversation with you right now.” You jumped up but failed to reach it due to his quick reflexes. 

“Doesn’t it hurt? Because if something this big went up my—”

“Jungkook!”

“I’m just saying!” he said with his arms up in the air like you were about to tase him. “I find it hard to believe, that’s all. It’s really big. Like damn.”

Without thinking, you ripped his towel off his waist and he gasped, scrambling to shield his privates while you seized the opportunity to get your toy back.

You stormed out of the bathroom and ran to your room, locking the door afterwards. Falling to your knees, the embarrassment caught up to you, causing you to hang your head low in shame. You could hear the soft shuffling sounds of his footsteps approaching your door, followed by a gentle knock.

“[Y/N]? Are you okay?” He pressed his ear against the door to hear small sniffles. “Shit. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you upset. I was teasing, I thought you wanted to tease me back and—I guess I took it too far.”

“Go away, Jeon,” you said, throwing the dildo at the door. Jungkook nearly had a heart attack at the loud thump and jolted back, clutching his chest. 

“Holy shit, that scared me,” he said, which earned a small chuckle from you despite the tears. “Hey… come on out. Please. I’m not judging you.”

“No. I’m humiliated. You heard me yesterday and now caught me today. I can’t face you ever again. It’s over!”

He placed a hand on your door, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “I didn’t even know we started, so how could we be over? You’re cute.”

That made you snap your head up. You quickly wiped away your tears and rose from the floor. “This isn’t fair… I’ve been embarrassed twice now.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“You heard me masturbating yesterday!” you exclaimed, frustrated at his obliviousness. “You woke up and told me I had pretty lips or whatever and suggested we do something about it together!”

“I mean, you do have pretty lips. Yup. That sounds like me, yeah,” he said, nodding to himself. “But I really don’t remember. Come on out. I wanna see you.”

“No.”

“Would it help if I shared something embarrassing about me?”

You narrowed your eyes at the door, considering his offer. “... Go on…”

He sighed, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “Well… you know how I’ve been doing your laundry for you?” 

“Yeah…”

It was your most hated chore. Putting the clothes into the washer and dryer wasn’t your issue, but folding them was so tedious. So you and him made a deal. You were in charge of dishes and he would do the laundry. However, the one thing you refused to let Jungkook wash for you were your bras and panties. Those you handled yourself.

“You… left a pair of panties in my basket once by mistake.”

“I did?”

“Yeah. I washed them for you but um… before that, I might’ve… sort’ve… jerked off with them.”

Your doorknob jostled for a second as you unlocked it. Jungkook waited as the door swung open and was greeted by a displeased you, hands on your hips and all.  

“What? They were really pretty…” he added. “They were pink and had lace—”

“You… PERVERT!” you shouted, hitting his chest repeatedly. Of course, you were aware your feeble punches did nothing to his insanely toned pecs. Jungkook stared at you fondly, catching the hint of a smile that threatened to spill from your lips. 

“Oh, I’m a pervert? Says the girl who has an 8-inch dildo,” he countered, snatching both your wrists. 

“At least I’m able to take 8-inches!” you retorted, laughing at the situation. He joined in your laughter and then said,

“Good! That means you’ll be able to handle me!”

Your brain fizzled out at this point as the laughter subsided. “... What?”

Jungkook’s Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he gulped. “... You heard me. Go ahead, take off my towel again. See for yourself.”

He guided your hands downward to the soft fabric, which was already on the verge of unraveling itself with his prior movements. You stared at his pelvic lines, excitement bubbling beneath the surface while you tried your best to maintain a calm expression. 

“... Pervert,” you mumbled. Jungkook chuckled, taking one of your hands and placing it directly on his boner. 

“Maybe. But only you can make me feel this way.”

You bit your lip, feeling the heat radiating from beneath the fabric and your curiosity peaked. Tucking a finger into the towel, you pulled it down and let it fall to the ground. 

A loud squeal came from your lips as you covered your mouth. “Holy shit!”

Jungkook covered himself after seeing your reaction with both hands, embarrassment crawling up his spine. “Sorry, I’ll put it away.”

“No, no, no!” you said, putting your hands out in a stop motion. “Sorry, I just… you… you weren’t kidding.”

“Does it scare you?” His tone was sincere, his eyes genuinely showing concern. “Because… I don’t want to hurt you. And I know it can hurt. That’s why I was so curious about the dildo. Will it fit? Will I fit…?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how he phrased it, but quickly stopped when you noticed the fear in his eyes. Your thoughts wandered to if he had slept with someone prior and if it wasn’t a pleasant experience. Truth be told, you’ve never been with anyone as big as him so it’s all new for you.

“Well… if I’m prepared well enough, I can take it. The dildo fits but sometimes not all of it goes in. Um… man, this is embarrassing to talk about, ahhh. I feel like I keep making a fool of myself in front of you.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened at your vulnerability, taking your hand and placing it on his chest. His heart was beating just as rapidly as yours if not more. Then he put his other hand on the small of your back, pulling you close. 

“That makes two of us. But you make me crazy.”

He was so close that your senses were intoxicated with the fresh scent of eucalyptus and cotton wafting off him. His eyes shifted to your lips for a split second before meeting your gaze once more. 

“I really want to kiss these pretty lips of yours… If you’ll let me,” he said, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb and whispering the last part.

You begged him to kiss you already, so he leaned in and finally pressed his warm lips against yours as you closed your eyes. It started off as a gentle smooch, like a little tease to test the waters. When he pulled back, you leaned forward and chased his lips urgently. You felt him smiling into the kiss as he moved in tandem with you, deepening the kiss while switching positions to press you against a wall. One of his hands pinned your wrists above your head while his free hand slithered down the side of your body until it rested on your hip, giving you a firm squeeze.

“Jung—mmph—Jungkook…” you moaned. He used that chance to ease his tongue into your mouth and the kiss went from passionate to messy. When you moved your wrists in the slightest, he asserted dominance and pinned them back down into place. 

“You think I’m going to let you go so easily now that I have you?” he asked, the hunger in his voice evident. He carefully tugged your bottom lip in between his teeth and pulled it back in a seductive motion, which turned you on even more. 

Once he broke the kiss, the only thing that remained was a string of saliva that broke seconds later.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he said in between pants.

“Since you’ve jerked off to my panties?” you teased while catching your breath.

He rolled his eyes. “Like you’ve never rubbed one out to me before.”

You scrunched up your nose at his response, unable to counteract his statement right away. “Hey… I wouldn’t have had to rub one out if you warmed me up in this cold weather.”

He smirked. “All you had to do was ask, you know.”

Releasing your hands, Jungkook went into your room and grabbed the dildo off the floor. He left you for a short moment and you waited there, confused, until you heard the sound of running water. He came back a minute later and then grabbed your hand, leading you to his bedroom.

“Had to wash it. Don’t worry, I’ll warm you up properly for the real thing.”

He guided you to his bed and helped you remove your jacket, blouse, and leggings. His grin was extra toothy because the set you were wearing was the exact set he jerked off too before. 

“What?” you asked, amused.

“N-Nothing.”

When your back was turned for a second, he mouthed the words ‘Oh my god’ and pressed his hands together as if thanking the universe for this very moment.

Now left in your bra and panties, you laid on his bed and he climbed on top of you, his lips latching onto the side of your neck. You mewled at the sizzling contact, pulling him close by his soft locks so that his hot skin was pressed against yours. He trailed his searing kisses down to your collarbone and then settled between the valley of your breasts. 

“The bra is pretty… you’re so pretty,” he said, full of admiration. He pulled one of the cups down to gain access to your breasts, capturing your perky nipple between his lips. He sucked tenderly, swirling his tongue around before tugging on it hard enough to elicit a moan. His other hand was greedy, slithering into your already soaked panties. His middle finger dipped in between your folds and he rubbed in circular motions to coax some more slick out of you. 

As you arched your back and moaned his name, he dipped one finger into you and began to pump it slowly. He added another one when you begged for it, sounding so desperate that he had to oblige. 

“Please fuck me already. I can’t take it,” you breathed. Jungkook only curled his fingers deeper inside, grazing your sweet spot while shaking his head. 

“Patience, beautiful. I need to make sure your sweet pussy can take it, remember? Gotta prep you well.”

“But I can take it, I can, oh god please.” 

“If you’re a good girl for me. Can you take another finger?”

You nodded eagerly, so he added a third finger and you squeezed your eyes shut from the delicious burn. 

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked, observing your expressions carefully. You clutched onto the pillow and panted heavily. 

“Y-Yeah, I—god—your fingers feel good…”

He began to finger you with all three digits, the tightness of your walls bringing some resistance to his actions. But with a few more neck kisses to relax you, it became easier and you became more undone. 

“You’re doing so well,” he whispered into your ear, his heavy breath tickling it. He finally removed his fingers and grabbed the dildo at the end of the bed, bringing up to your lips. 

“Show me what those pretty lips of yours can do.”

You stuck out your tongue and licked a long stripe on the toy in a tantalizing slow motion, causing Jungkook to grunt. That damn smile of yours was going to kill him. You were the perfect minx—sweet and naughty. He didn’t have to tell you to suck it because you already were. 

“Such a good girl. You’re going to handle my cock so well.”

He removed the dildo out of your mouth and reached into his nightstand to pull out a bottle of lube. You stared at it like it was foreign to you and Jungkook was quick to notice.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I can take it. I know it.”

He chuckled, admiring your determination. “Still, I want to take my time.  Besides… it’s not every day I get to fuck someone so beautiful.”

He popped open the cap and squeezed a decent amount of lube onto the toy. Then he got back in between your legs and slowly began to insert it into you. You squirmed from the slippery, cold contact but Jungkook captured your lips into a deep kiss, igniting your body with fervor. 

He thrusted the dildo as deep as he could, stopping when there was resistance from your panties. Which you were more than thankful for because you already felt full. But then he began to pump it in and out of you at a steady pace, only accelerating when your moans became more constant. 

“Shit, shit,that feels so—“ Your words were swallowed by his lips and that stirred something within you, allowing Jungkook to easily glide the toy back and forth. He soon increased his speed, the obscene sounds your pussy was making the only thing that could be heard in the room. 

You broke away from the kiss and began tearing up from the intensity. 

“J-Jungkook, I think—“

You couldn’t, actually. Your orgasm crept up on you and made your entire body convulse. You shut your eyes to only see white, your ears were ringing, and your pussy surrendered to the pleasure. 

Jungkook removed the toy out of you gently and then kissed your sweaty forehead, giving you a bunny-tooth smile as you calmed down from your high. 

“Did you cum?”

You smacked his arm playfully. “Did I cum… pfft. No, actually. I’m waiting for a real man to make me cum. With a fat cock.”

“Well not to toot my own horn but…” He grinded his swollen cock against your thigh. “I think I meet the requirements.”

Now that things slowed down, this was the first time you really got to look at his cock properly. He wasn’t kidding about needing to prep you. It was as big as your dildo but much more girthier. It was a mouth-watering sight. 

Flipping the switch, you got on top of Jungkook this time. His eyes widened in surprise but then eased into a smile. You leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. 

“Let me take care of you now.”

“But I want to fuck you so bad.”

“You can wait, darling. My pussy is yours.”

His dick twitched at that. You giggled as you got in between his thighs, stroking his member a few times to hear those cute, breathy moans of his. 

Will it fit…? God, I hope so.

“Are you afraid you can’t take it?” Jungkook asked with concern. Shit. Did you say that out loud???

“I can. I will.”

“We don’t have to if you don’t—“

“Jungkook,” you said, squeezing his dick tightly, almost like a warning. “I can take it like a good girl. And if not, I’ll tell you. Okay?”

He closed his eyes and nodded as you began to suck him off. There was no way you could take all of him in your mouth but you’d be damned if you didn’t at least try. You went as far as you could and stopped when your gag reflex kicked in. Using your hand to stroke the area you couldn’t reach, you swirled your tongue and bobbed your head up and down. 

Jungkook’s abs clenched and unclenched at the action and he rested on his elbows to watch you. The way your bra cupped your breasts at this angle was enticing, your pretty lips working so hard to please him, and the view of your ass in those panties could make him cum right then and there. 

“Fuck, you’re so good at this—don’t stop.”

You smiled at the praise and continued, loving how he took a sharp inhale of breath when you cupped his balls. He put his hand on your head and pushed you down gently, not wanting to overdo it with his size. You controlled the pace, but he just wanted to touch you and admire you. 

“You’re too good to me…” 

You released his dick with a satisfying pop sound, kissing the tip and smiling. “Teach me what you like.”

“I love everything you do,” he said, grunting when you began stroking him again from the base to the tip. “Your hands are so much softer than mine.”

You stopped momentarily to spit on your hand before resuming your lewd actions and he threw his head back. 

“Fuck [Y/N]. That’s so hot.”

“Yeah? Have I been a good girl? Are you going to reward me?” He snatched your wrist, his eyes darkened and full of lust. 

“Can you handle it?”

You turned around on all fours, shaking your ass side to side to tempt him. “Take me, baby. Raw.”

His OJO face returned from your bold suggestion and you flashed him a wink. 

“I’m on the pill. Promise,” you informed. 

A burst of energy surged within him as he grabbed the bottle of lube and hurriedly squeezed some onto his cock. You giggled when he squirted a bit too much, haphazardly trying to divide it between two hands and spreading it evenly. But things turned serious when he grabbed your hips, yanking you closer to him.

He pulled your panties to the side and ate you out from behind first, loving how delicious your backside looked with them on. You moaned in delight and he placed a hand on your upper back, forcing your face down into the mattress. His tongue dipped into your folds and he flicked it on your clit a few times, loving the whiny sounds you were making. Then he pressed his entire mouth onto your pussy and sucked hard. 

You were overwhelmed with pleasure and were on the verge of cumming when he removed his mouth and replaced it with something else.

“Are you ready?” He teased his tip at your leaking entrance and you shuddered. 

“Yes, please fuck me.”

“Breathe baby. Relax as much as you can.”

You obeyed, feeling him push himself into you smoothly, knowing he prepped you more than enough. At least, that’s what you thought until he got in halfway. From there on, it felt like he was invading your walls and stretching you to new limits. 

There was a mild discomfort and Jungkook kissed your back lovingly to relax your tense muscles. You sighed and allowed him to bottom out, feeling the wind knock out of you when he did. 

“God!” you shouted, fisting his bedsheets. 

“F-Fuck… you feel amazing I—can I move? Does it hurt?”

“It doesn’t hurt… I just feel really full.”

“Okay,” he said in a restrained voice. “I’ll go slow.”

He gripped your hips tightly, like he needed something else to focus on or else he’d lose control and fuck the living daylights out of you. He eased himself out of you but only half way, wanting to savor your warmth a bit longer. Then he pushed himself back into you, making sure to go as slow as possible.

“Your ass looks amazing in these. You should wear them again.”

Your heart fluttered at the thought of doing this with him again. “Maybe if you spank me.”

He stilled his hips. “You really want me to?”

You began rocking your ass back and forth on his cock. “Yeah. I’m not that fragile… I can take it rough when I want to.” You swore you felt his cock twitch at this. “Hmm, looks like that excited you. You wanna fuck me rough, Jeon?”

He delivered a spank on your cheek, the sensation sending waves of pain and pleasure through your body. Your pussy tightened from this and it made Jungkook hiss. He spanked the other cheek and then both cheeks and you moaned, the slight pain distracting you from the girth of his big cock. 

“You think you’re in a position to be a brat?” He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you up so you were on all fours again. Laying on top of your back, he whispered in your ear, “Do you know how badly I want to fucking ruin you?”

He bit the shell of your ear and you let out a content sigh as he slowly thrusted in and out of you. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he reminded you. “But god, you feel so good. So tight. So slippery and wet. I just wanna have my way with you.”

You couldn’t wait anymore. “Please do. Make my pussy remember the shape of your cock. It’s yours to wreck.”

Jungkook got off your back and grabbed a nice fistful of your hair into a makeshift ponytail, forcing your head up as he thrusted into you to the hilt. That feeling of being full hit you full force and you submitted, letting him rock his hips back and forth to the pace he deemed fit. He undid your bra with his free hand, letting the undergarment fall onto the bed as he cupped one breast.

Your moans came out unashamed and full of whiny desperation. The intensity was becoming too much, but it felt too good to stop. There was no more discomfort, only lust and the desire to be fucked so hard that it had your eyes rolling. And Jungkook was more than willing to deliver.

He then grabbed a nearby pillow and placed it under your stomach, pushing your back down until you laid flat. 

“I’m not sure, but I read this makes things feel better on Reddit,” he explained quickly as he helped remove your panties. “But let me know if you want me to stop.”

You’re smitten by the fact he cared this much about you but also trying hard not to laugh at how he admitted to going to Reddit for sex advice. He was too precious.

“I will.”

With your ass propped up higher thanks to the elevation of the pillow, Jungkook eased into you once more and you bit into your pillow. He started to slam his hips into you, gripping onto the headboard to steady himself. 

“Fuck!” you said through gritted teeth. 

“Am I going too fast?” he breathed, slowing down his thrusts.

“No, it’s okay. I want it. I want you.”

Your words unleashed his primal urges to finally give it to you. He shoved his cock deep inside you, each thrust making your ass jiggle, the sight so unbelievably sexy that he had to spank you again.

“Yes, yes, yes! Fuck me harder!” you shouted. Jungkook laid on top of you, wrapping his bicep around your neck and planted a kiss on your cheek as he fucked you harder. You begged him to choke you and he obliged, squeezing your neck just enough to make you slightly dizzy. 

It was euphoric having that slight danger while being used for his pleasure. Your pussy tightened so much that Jungkook felt he was going to cum. 

He slowed the roll of his hips and then pulled out, quickly flipping you onto your back. Thanks to the pillow from earlier, your hips were propped up at the perfect height. 

“Spread your legs for me. Wider. Hold them open.”

You were so drunk on lust that you did everything he asked. He held onto your thighs and inserted his cock into you again, the new angle making your moans come out strangulated. He was so huge, you swore his tip was brushing against your cervix. Picking up the pace gradually, you took the abuse of his fat cock and screamed at how good it felt. 

“I can’t get enough of you,” Jungkook said through pants, wrapping a hand around the column of your neck. “I’m gonna cum.”

His hips began to stutter and you felt your pussy growing sore from the stretch. Anymore and you’d be in tears. You wanted to cum too, so you snuck your hand down to your clit and rubbed in circular motions. Jungkook used the last remaining bits of strength to fuck you for a few more minutes, which was more than enough for you to reach your climax. 

Cumming a second time was more painful than the first time due to the over sensitivity. But somehow it was more enjoyable because you had never felt something so intense. Jungkook kept coaxing you with sweet words, promising he was almost finished. 

He rutted into you for the last few seconds, counting 3, 2, 1 before spilling his seed inside you. His body laid on top of yours, the two of you sticky and sweaty but it was comforting just being in his embrace. 

“Jungkook?” 

“Yeah?”

“Get off. We gotta pee.”

He laughed at your serious tone. “I think I need another shower. Care to join me?”

Your roommate literally just fucked your brains out 5 minutes ago. Why were you feeling self-conscious in the shower with him? It didn’t make sense!

With the hot water on, you took a deep breath before feeling a pair of arms wrap around you from behind. 

“Questions, comments, concerns?”

Oh my god, you had to marry this man. “Um… I think I’ll be sore for the next few days.”

“I’m sorry.

“Don’t be. I enjoyed it a lot.”

He turned you around, so that you were facing him. “Enough to do it again?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Tonight?”

“W-Well… I mean—“

Look at him fumbling over his words. Adorable. “You’re such a pervert.”

“I can’t help it. You turn me on.”

You covered your chest, feeling shy. “Is that all I’m good for…?”

He immediately understood what you meant. “Of course not. Look at me,” he said while tilting your chin up. “Don’t you know how I feel about you?”

Your lips curled into a smile. “Well I learned today that you jerked off to my panties and you count down before you cum.”

You couldn’t help but explode into laughter at his OJO face when he heard you say that. 

“Hey! I do it to let you know when it’s coming!”

“Yes sir,” you teased with a salute. “I appreciate your punctuality, sir!”

“Oh my god, you’re so cheeky.” He hugged you again and booped his nose into yours. “I like you. You know, when a boy likes a girl and they go out on a date and then—oh shit, I did things backwards.”

You giggled. “I think I prefer it this way. I like you too. I’ve… liked you for a long time.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because! I didn’t want to make things awkward. But I guess things ended up being awkward anyway…”

“Because you were masturbating to me?” 

He had such a proud smile on his face. 

“Whatever! Panty thief!”

“You left them there.”

“You should’ve told me!”

“I did!”

“After you had your fun! You are so—”

He gave you a surprise peck on the cheek to distract you. 

“Awesome?” He smooched you again. And again. You couldn’t help but giggle. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Mmhmm. So… do you want to stay in my room tonight?”

“As long as you warm me up.”

“Oh, for sure. I’m great at that.”

“Because of experience or Reddit?”

There was his OJO face again. “Hey~!”

I truly hope you enjoyed the fic! Thank you for giving my writing a chance. :) Also I have an AO3 if you're more comfortable commenting there. Thanks!

[kyuujo]

↳ thinkin of u <3

↳ sae itoshi, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro x fem!reader (separate) ↳ nsfw(ish) ↳ established relationships, nudes, descriptions of masturbation (fem), “sending them nudes/spicy vids while they’re in public”, slight sexting?, contains crack (sorry i can’t help myself), no explicit sex but lots of allusions to it, language, aged up characters, not proof read :x, my writing

↳ 1k words

↳ tbh i’ve thought about this trope for a long time and finally got the creativity and inspiration to write it! i’m not entirely sure of the quality of this as i’ve never written anything like this before, but i hope it’s still enjoyable! thank you so much for reading and i hope you enjoy!! <3

“… now that you’ve played alongside japan’s u-20, would you ever reconsider your decision not to join? the people want to know.”

sae sent an icy glare to the reporter across from him; he’d thought he’d made his stance on this vividly clear, but obviously not.

“no.” sae said simply, reveling in the spark of indignation his refusal brought to the man’s eyes.

“well, why not—?”

sae lifted a hand to silence the man when his phone pinged twice — maybe that was rude, but sae had the feeling that whatever had just come through his phone would be a thousand times more entertaining and engaging than the sleaze across from him.

and boy, was sae right.

my wife: seeing you on tv has me all worked up. maybe hurry it along? 😘

my wife: [video attachment]

despite his current surroundings and the many cameras pointed at him, sae opened the attachment — it was a video, one without sound, but the muteness didn’t take away from the sheer tempting nature of it.

you looked so good, back resting against the armrest of the couch and legs spread lazily and slit glistening in the flash of the camera. your fingers teased at your clit lightly, and desire shot through sae’s body as he itched to replace them with his own.

sae didn’t even get halfway through the video before his phone pinged with another message — and then another.

my wife: SAE YOU ARENT SUPPOSED TO LOOK YET

my wife: YOURE ON LIVE TV PUT IT DOWN

sae smirked and gave the reporter a lazy wave before standing.

“my deepest apologies, but i’m cutting this short. i have some other business to attend to.”

sae couldn’t give two shits about the way both the reporter and his pr manager sputtered and desperately attempted to flag him back — his woman was waiting on him at home, and that was far more important.

shidou rarely ever felt bored during matches — but so far, this one had simply been a drag. the opposing team didn’t really offer much of a challenge, and shidou had scored more points off of them than he could justly remember.

by the time half-time rolled around, shidou was seething and sweating, feeling incredibly tense and antsy as he whipped into the locker room.

his teammates knew not to bother him when he was in a dip like this, so they cleared a path for him and avoided eye contact at all costs. if shidou weren’t so frustrated he would have found it amusing.

there was only one thing that may make shidou feel the least bit better — messages from you, something he was guaranteed to find at half-time. a trickle of excitement slithered down his body when he pulled his phone from his locker and plopped down on the nearest bench. his phone read ‘3 unread messages’ when he clicked the screen on.

shidou didn’t think twice about tapping open the chat log between the two of you, a smile instantly gracing his lips at your first message.

babygirl💕: hope your match is going well baby!! i know you’re gonna rock it

babygirl💕: but on the slim to none chance that it may not be, i want to give you some motivation ;)

babygirl💕: [video attachment]

shidou probably should have ensured his sound was off before opening it — but your legs were spread open so deliciously and your fingers were working your cunt at a desperate speed, what was shidou supposed to do? think rationally? tough chance.

lewd moans and whines of “shidouuuuu” filled the locker room and ten pairs of shocked eyes met his. shidou’s cheeks warmed and anger sparked in his chest at the knowledge that now his teammates knew how absolutely angelic you sounded in the throes of pleasure.

all it took was a heavy glare and they were clearing out of the room to give him and your video some privacy.

every single tiny box on the shelf looked exactly the same.

what was he even supposed to get again? he’d read over the front of every box at least three times. pearl, radiant, braided… none of those words rung any bells in his head. what was it you had told him before he left?

“maybe it was the pearl…?” nagi murmured to himself, eyes narrowed as if that would somehow help the answer become more clearer to him. he gingerly grabbed a box and examined it before promptly putting it back on the shelf.

nagi didn’t like to admit defeat, but he’d been perusing this shelf for nearly thirty minutes and still didn’t know shit from shat — he’d have to phone a friend, unfortunately.

nagi slipped his phone from his pocket and was just about to tap open his contacts when his phone pinged with a message; ironically, it was from you.

babycake <3: hurry home love. i’m waiting for you 💕

babycake <3: [image attachment]

nagi’s eyes nearly bugged from his skull when he caught sight of the picture you’d sent him — you, sprawled across the lush queen bed, donning nothing but his freshly washed jersey. if he looked close enough, he could see the faintest tease of your nipples perked up beneath the fabric, and the hem of it fell to your mid thighs, hiding the sweet spot between your legs.

nagi sucked in a breath and clicked off his phone screen, willing his half-hard dick to calm down — at least while he was in the store. with furtive glances down each side of the isle nagi powered his screen on and, while avoiding letting his gaze fall to the tempting picture, typed a quick response.

me: omw. don’t move.

your period wasn’t due for another week, anyway. nagi always had time to figure out the pearl-versus-radiant-versus-braided debacle before then.

i genuinely had so much fun cooking these up! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments and reblogs are not at all required but are much appreciated!! <33

[for-a-longlongtime]

Guilty Pleasure (1/7) - dbf!Joel x reader

You're home from college for the summer, staying with your parents in Austin, TX. So is your dad's best friend, Joel Miller. Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, mdni Series warnings (tba): Age gap (reader is 22, Joel is 42), masturbation (f), use of sex toys, oral sex, PiV, anal, hair pulling, dirty talk, getting caught, playful use of 'daddy', outrageous flirting, groping, reference to m/m, Joel's arms should always come with a warning. No outbreak!AU. Word count: 2.3K A/N: If you know/follow me, you're probably just as shocked as I am to see a dbf!Joel fic by my hand. Totally get it if it's not your thing, please feel free to move on and skip this one. However - if you've read and enjoyed other fics by me, you may wanna give it a try! Submitting this also to @hellishjoel who is organizing the #hotdilfsummerchallenge (go check out all the other fics on her page!) 💜

series masterlist | main masterlist next chapter >

You don’t hate him. Not exactly. 

But he doesn’t need to know that. 

“I’m just so damn sick of him, you know? He thinks he’s so important and hot shit. People are fawning about him all the damn time, but he’s just my dad and an asshole,” you sigh to your best friend on the other end of the Facetime call. You’re in an Uber headed to your parents’ house, desperate for time away from school and your cheating ex. Your mom had been excited that you would be spending the summer break with them in Austin, and assured you that your father would be too. As IF. 

“I thought that maybe I could just relax, but no. Everything is about my dad again. He started this big... I don’t even know what. Project. Venture. Mission. Did you see it on tv? He’s on the news all the damn time.” Just the thought alone already makes you cringe, and you’re glad to see your friend nod at you, requiring no further explanation - she knows all about your father. “So I figured he won’t be in my way when I’m home. But now his friend Joel is staying at the house, too. The entire fucking summer. Who even does that?”

Your father and Joel had been friends for a long time, even before you were born, but you struggled to remember anything about him. He was a contractor, running his own company for quite a while now, and he had a brother named Tommy. “They’re working on renovating his house, so he needed a place to stay. It’s not like he’ll be in your way, sweetheart. Most of the time he’s out working for clients,” your mom had assured you, reminding you there were more than just a few spare bedrooms at the house. But to you, it didn’t matter; he would be in the way. You just knew it. Ruining your summer. The last thing you needed was a constant reminder of your dad shaped as Joel, hanging around the house.

“No, I don’t know much about him - it’s been years since I saw him.” You wince as you see your parents’ house down the street, and for a moment you’re tempted to ask the Uber driver to circle around the block one more time. “Look, I’m here - I have to go. Wish me luck, call me later,” you plead with your friend as the car pulls up to the oversized driveway. It takes a moment to get all your suitcases out of the car, since the driver merely watches you with an impatient frown on his face, but then you’re finally stumbling towards the front door. 

It’s good to be in Austin again, but you haven’t missed the Texas heat - and humidity - for one bit. All you want right now is a pizza and a very, very strong drink to forget about the shitty trip you just had. But it seems not even that is in the cards for you right now, as nobody bothers to come to the door after you’ve loudly rang the doorbell. Not even on the third try. Just when you’re about to start screaming in frustration, you finally hear footsteps rushing down the hallway. 

“Mom, why did you not–,” you start when the door swings open, but the words immediately stick in your throat as you stare at the man in front of you. Tall, strong, and handsome, looking much better than he had any right to while being dressed in old jeans and a t-shirt - courtesy of those arms in particular, and a mouth that immediately gave you ideas about where he should put it. Jesus Christ. 

“Joel…?”, you finally manage when your brain seems to catch up with the low throb you’re feeling in your pussy. You do not remember your dad’s best friend looking this hot, or smelling so good - the sandalwood in his cologne reminds you of more than just a couple of debauched nights on campus that you’d had in the past year. But this was clearly not one of the frat boys that surrounded you during your classes or evenings out. This was a whole ass DILF, somewhere in his early forties like your parents, and it takes you effort to not whimper as you take him in.

Your core aches just from looking at him, a painful reminder of how many weeks it has been since you’d last had an orgasm that didn’t come from your own hand or a toy. Finding out that your piece of shit ex-boyfriend had been running around with several other girls had been a harsh way to end the semester, but at least it made you decide to spend the summer here in Texas. And that decision suddenly seems like a very, very good idea in retrospect.

It’s only when Joel says your name, an amused smirk playing over his face, that you realize you’ve definitely been staring at him. “Hey, kiddo. Been a while. D’you need a hand with that?”, he asks, and as you hear his drawl, you’re pretty damn sure that you’ve never heard that man sound anything like this. Goddamn. Hot in every way, it seems, it seems - you may have never before appreciated a Texas accent as much as you like his.

He doesn’t wait for your response, but simply takes over two of your suitcases and a duffle bag like they weigh nothing. “Nicole- I mean, your mom asked me to help you get you settled, she’s gonna be back in a few hours,” he says, keeping the front door open with one strong shoulder so you can get into the house. 

“Thanks, that’s so nice of you,” you manage to say as you follow him through the house, to your bedroom on the second floor. Walking behind him is the perfect excuse to take in his physique, and you freely let your eyes roam over his strong shoulders and broad back, and you can tell you’re getting wet just by looking at him. God, he’s fit. Especially for a guy who is probably twenty years older than you are. Those arms… Was he single? And - did that even matter, really? 

You realize that you must’ve zoned out and missed something he’s said to you, because he gives you a questioning look when you’re both standing in your childhood bedroom. The decoration, colors and posters are still familiar to you, but in a detached way, like you’re looking at them in a photo album of someone you used to be, in sharp contrast to who you are now and the man in front of you.

“I said that I hope I won’t be in your way this summer. Your parents are happy you’re staying here with them,” he says, then surprises you by giving you a friendly, brief hug. “It’s good to see you again, kid.” You gladly accept the hug, and you can’t help but bury your face against his shoulder for just a moment, inhaling his cologne and the underlying subtle tone of his natural scent. That’s when you internally make up your mind, right there on the spot.

You want him.

Now, and for the rest of the summer. 

And if that pissed off your father? All the better.

Once you’re sure he’s left the hallway outside of your room, you grab your phone and immediately google his name, checking through his online profiles. No mention of any wife or girlfriend. Perfect. When you find his Instagram, your jaw drops at the photos you see of Joel clearly working hard and dripping sweat. Almost pornographic, really.

With a few taps you send the pictures to your best friend, quickly adding the caption ‘sooo i decided I’m gonna be his inappropriately young gf for the summer’. Her response pings almost instantly, as you expected, a barrage of emojis and ‘OMG GIRL YESSSS GET THAT DILF’. You can’t help but chuckle as you send a quick message back to her, ‘more later xxx’, then turn off the sound on your phone.

For a moment you consider unpacking all of your luggage, which would definitely be the more practical thing to do. On the other hand, your parents are not gonna be home in the next few hours, and since Joel’s room didn’t seem too close to yours to overhear anything…

You sigh in relief when you find the silky bag in your luggage that stores your sex toys, and pull out your favorite clit sucker without a moment of hesitation. Quick and dirty, that’s what you need right now, you decide as you get onto the bed. After a moment of hesitation, you re-open Instagram and scroll back to Joel’s page, while you reach for your AirPods in the hidden pocket of your dress. 

His profile is clearly promotional for his company - Miller & Co -, and you vaguely recognize his brother Tommy in some shots, but fortunately the focus is mostly on him. When you click on Reels and see several videos of him at work, your heart starts racing, your mouth going dry while you feel the exact opposite happening in your panties. Fuck, he is so hot. If you thought the view you had while walking behind him was good, it sure is nothing compared to seeing him work on construction projects that show him flexing those muscles, jeans clinging desperately onto his thighs the way you would like your hands to do.

You’re stroking yourself already after the second video, and by the time you’re treated to the sight and sound of him lifting lumber with a grunt, you’ve got two fingers deep inside of your pussy. You whimper as you imagine he’s in your room watching you with those dark eyes. Your breathing grows heavy as you picture him getting on the bed, giving you that sexy smirk as he puts his head between your thighs so he can lick at your wetness. His bottom lip had tempted you from the start, and you just know it would feel so good as he’d circle your clit with his tongue. 

You can barely suppress a moan as your hips buck up hard, and you press the toy closer against yourself, thrusting your slick fingers faster as you chase the release that’s close - so so very close already. What if he buried that stubble against your thighs, urging your fingers out of yourself so he could lick them clean, his lips closing around your digits as he’d suck on you. Brown eyes filled with desire, reflecting how much you want him too, and then the push of his tongue inside your cunt as he starts to eat you out. 

You whisper his name quietly as your body starts to shake, hearing him moan contently as he works you up some more, then comes up for air, slipping two - no, three of his thick fingers roughly inside of you, just as demanding as his mouth is. “Good girl. Now come f’me.”

You gasp as the orgasm ripples through you, much faster than you expected, and you bury your face into your pillow so you won’t cry his name out loud. Before the waves of your orgasm have subsided, you flip yourself to your stomach as you keep the buzzing toy in place, grinding down harder on your fingers as you shudder from the overstimulation. Still you keep going, because it’s what Joel would do - you know it’s what he would want, tease you and push you to make you come again and again. 

He’d make you cry his name out loudly, until you’re writhing against him like a feral cat in heat, desperate as you’re begging him for his cock so he can fuck you into the mattress, claiming you and demanding to own every part of you. His sweaty heavy body covering yours, lips and teeth drawing more gasps from you, until your head becomes completely devoid of any thoughts, only able to focus on how good he’s making you feel - how his thickness is throbbing inside of you, going deeper than anyone has been before, and you know that he’s about to ruin you for any other men, because it’s never going to be better than it is with him.

As your body convulses and you’re about to come again, you suddenly hear your name being called loudly from downstairs - not by Joel, but the shriller sound of your mom’s voice as she’s looking for you. It takes everything you have to restrain yourself from yelling angrily at the interruption, your mind and body at war with each other for a second, and you bite your lip hard as you mentally grab onto the fantasy of Joel, unwilling to let go of it - of him. 

“Coming!,” you snap loudly, hoping that she won’t be able to hear the panting in your voice, or the buzzing toy in your hand. “Be right there!”

‘Good fucking girl. Such a dirty little slut for me,’ imaginary-Joel whispers at you, pounding into you, and you know he’s about to come too. “Give it to me again. Wanna feel you soak my cock,” the whisper changing into a low hiss that sends shivers down your spine. You bury your face even further into the pillow as you whine his name, begging him for more, to pump his seed into you and fill you up. He laughs, the sound hoarse and taunting, and then his hand grabs a hold of your hair and tugs your head back up. “No hiding. You scream my name when I make you come, you hear me?”, he grunts at you - and you bite your lip as you come hard again, soaking your fingers for a second time as the orgasm rocks you so much harder than the first one did.

Fuck. FUCK. You need him, every part of him, so goddamn bad. 

next: part 2 >

🚨 Follow @longlongtime-updates for updates when new chapters drop!

A/N II: Thank you @magpiepills @legendary-pink-dot @lotusbxtch @sin-djarin @mountainsandmayhem

@qveerthe0ry @perotovar for encouraging me to write a wild idea that suddenly came to mind. This came together shockingly fast with ideas and feedback from all of them, so thank you babes for supporting and enabling me! Fic title is obviously snagged from Chappell Roan's 'Guilty Pleasure'!

[fangswbenefits]

The Arrangement (10) - A New Way

Chapter summary: Astarion always find a way back to you even in the midst of all the chaos.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Sexual frustration. Jealous Astarion. Protective Astarion. Fingering. Masturbation. Cumplay. Innuendo. Body worship.

Word count: 7.3k

Author's note: Tumblr isn't allowing me to reply to comments ever since I changed my @... already contacted support. I am not ignoring you guys *deep sigh*

Ao3

Series Masterlist

Rivington had its fair share of taverns and inns sprawled across its busy and lively streets. It was surely a welcome change from the grim and daunting sense of dread that loomed over you when travelling across the shadowlands. 

As such, the group had split to indulge in some brief moments of well deserved and welcome repose before finally reaching Baldur’s Gate.

Astarion sat across from you, subtlety eyeing his surroundings as you happily sipped your apple juice. 

The sun had yet to reach its peak but the tavern was already crawling with drunkards and unpleasant crowds. 

“We shouldn’t linger.” Astarion mused with arms crossed.

You nodded. “I’m nearly done.”

As much as you wished to forget about the troubling matters that haunted you, it was evident that your presence was earning some unwanted curious stares from a few onlookers. 

He suddenly reached for the pouch at his hip, withdrawing a piece of fabric before extending his hand to you.

“Here.”

You took it in your hand, briefly admiring its silky texture of the handkerchief as shades of teal and green swirled together in mesmerising patterns.

Then your fingers found golden letters sewn along one corner. 

Your name.

Your heart was clenched tight as you traced each letter in absolute awe.

“Astarion, this is…”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, think nothing of it, darling. You’re often covered in blood and sweat and Gods know what other fluids,” he said with a curt smile. “I figured you might as well look stylish whilst wiping that pretty face of yours.”

There he was.

So easily crawling under your skin with his words and now with such a thoughtful gift that fully displayed his artistry and exceptional needlework.

A lump in your throat held your words back.

Maybe he didn’t consider this gesture all that relevant or even worthy of a lingering thought, but you did.

This was a silent extension of him.

Now you’d have him by your heart at all times.

But the moment was cut short as a loud bang rippled across your table.

A man reeking of cheap mead cackled loudly at you. He was swaying so violently it was an incredible feat that he was able to stand on both feet without losing balance.

“Oi! Aren’t you that gal from a few years ago who did magic tricks?”

Your blood ran cold at once and your insides twisted into several knots.

“I don’t think so.” you said, focusing your gaze on the drink in front of you.

You didn’t recognise him, but you silently prayed he would just drop the matter and leave.

Instead, he hiccuped. “N-No! It is you! I would never forget such a face.”

Your eyes met Astarion’s momentarily as he narrowed his crimson eyes at the loud drunkard, and you reckoned he was close to intervening. 

You mustered your strength. “No. It’s not me.”

But the man was insistent as he was drunk.

He banged a hand on the wooden surface once more. “What? You are the one whose mother–”

The flash of a dagger pierced through your field of vision, landing right between the man’s fingers, the blade pressed menacingly against his thumb.

“She said ‘no’,” he said through gritted teeth, eyes flaring with contempt. “Should I teach you the meaning of the word?”

The man shuddered and cowered in fear as he strolled away as fast as his wobbly steps would allow.

But Astarion had overdone it and had simultaneously caused many heads to turn your way, voices whispering as people tried to make out what the fuss was all about.

“We’ve overstayed our welcome,” he said, sheathing his dagger as he stood up.

You remained frozen in place, still taken aback by the words the man had spewed at you.

Your mind had been kept too busy to dive back into the memories of your mother, and to dwell on what had happened so many years ago.

A shudder spread across your entire body as the sense of dread gripped you.

You felt his hand nudge your shoulder. “Now’s not the time for daydreaming, sweetheart.”

And he quickly tugged at your arm, pulling you up on your feet before the two of you scurried along the tavern and earning heavy glares.

You made it out just in time as two Fists crossed paths with you on their way inside, trying to disperse the crowd that had gathered around the entryway.

“What was that all about?” Astarion asked as soon as you were able to blend in with the passers-by. 

“Nothing.”

Your mouth had gone awfully dry even though you had downed most of your apple juice, replenishing your hydration level. 

He stared at you, raising a brow inquisitively. “He did actually know you, didn’t he?”

You met his gaze in a silent warning. “He must have had me confused with someone else.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re a terrible liar, but I will not pry. We all have secrets to bear.”

You nodded, thankful for his understanding remark.

There was no point in lying to him. He could always see right through your silly attempts at deception. 

“Just know that you can come to me should you need to air them out,” he added. “I know all too well how buried secrets always find a way to crawl to the surface – one way or another.”

It was a glaring testament to how he had come to terms with opening up to someone else.

He had come far in that regard and you felt proud of him.

A faint smile settled on your lips, but it faded just as quickly once realisation hit you.

“Wait!” you said, gripping his arm. “The handkerchief – I left it there. Let me–”

He patted your back. “Leave it, darling. Unless you fancy starting a tavern brawl, that is.”

Your heart dropped.

“But…”

“I will embroider you a new one.”

But he never did.

There was no point in lying to Astarion.

You were very well aware of this.

He would spot your deceit faster than a hawk could tail its prey.

But the dreadful sense of impending doom had rooted you to the sofa.

This couldn’t all just be a coincidence. 

By the time the two of you had reached the room, Gale and Lae’zel had already vanished through a portal to Waterdeep to assess the situation. 

“All we can do for now is wait.” Astarion said, adjusting his shirt. 

Shadowheart scoffed. “This is all very odd. It’s as if something is at work against us.”

You nodded. “I agree.”

“Are the two of you in some competition to see who’s the most dramatic?” he said with a click of his tongue. “Honestly, we know nothing about what happened. Maybe his contact succumbed to self-inflicted boredom – a running theme amongst wizards.”

His sense of humour would have been welcome under different circumstances, but you were on the brink of freaking out.

“Maybe I could cast Arcane Gate and help out…” you said in a restless tone, feeling nauseous.

But the mage slayer outside kept your magic levels too low for you to successfully cast a level six conjuration spell, so it was not even an option.

Astarion immediately snorted as he joined your side. “Perish the thought. I don’t think it’d be wise to do such a thing given your condition. You might open a portal to some place infested with murderous creatures, and then I’ll have to jump in to rescue you.”

Shadowheart, who had been pacing worriedly across the room, came to an immediate halt. “What condition?”

You rubbed your temples as if it would magically dissipate the gnawing headache.

“I had too much to drink last night.”

Shadowheart’s accusatory stare immediately landed on Astarion. “What did you do?”

He scoffed dramatically. “Excuse me? I am well aware that pinning the blame on me is a recurring activity in this group, but I had nothing to do with this.”

You groaned with a wince. “Please keep your voices down…”

Shadowheart rushed to lower herself by your feet until she could eye-level with you. “Are you all right?”

No.

And it had little to do with the aftermath of your alcohol consumption.

Ava.

Your intuition was pounding ceaselessly in your mind and you just couldn’t bring yourself to ignore it any longer.

Yes, she had told you she would talk to Astarion, but your nerves were being eaten raw and time wasn’t something you could afford to spare.

“I… think I need to talk about something…” you began as a shiver tore through your body.

Shadowheart gripped your knees, her face twisted in alarmed worry. “What is it?”

You exchanged a glare with Astarion who eyed you in confusion.

“I met up with Ava last night and…” You paused briefly, pondering your next words. “She made an offering.”

His brows furrowed together. “What offering?”

You felt sweat coat your palms as your heart rate quickened in distress. “She’s under the impression someone is after us,” you said, clutching your hands together. “That whoever it is might be responsible for that dead body and us getting wrongfully arrested.”

Shadowheart was now gripping your knees firmly. “And what did she offer?”

Your leg was visibly shaking now as you were finding it harder to keep your composure.

“Apparently, when Astarion feeds on me, our blood mixes together and…”

As far as you were aware, Shadowheart wasn’t aware of his deal with Ava, so you decided to hold that information.

“She���s interested in that… mixture and wants access to it in exchange for information.”

The effect your words had was nearly catastrophic. 

Shadowheart looked positively scandalised and Astarion immediately gripped your arm, snarling, “ What? ”

He was instantly on his feet and you followed suit.

“How would she even have access to that in the first place?” she asked in awe.

Astarion spoke before you could, “I’ve been giving her some of my blood as she researches ways to counter the effects of vampirism. But I wasn’t aware of this!”

“ Astarion! ” Shadowheart let out in sheer outrage. “What in the Hells is wrong with you?”

He ignored her remark, eyes fixed on you.

He was mad.

No.

He was furious.

Up until this point, you had only ever witnessed him protect Ava and vouched for her integrity, but it seemed that he was no longer interested in upholding his defence. 

“She told me she would tell you of this as she only recently found out about it.”

“To Hells with that!” he snarled. “Did you agree to that arrangement?”

Silence

But that was answer enough.

“You should have told me!”

You swallowed the uncomfortable lump in your throat. “You never listen to me when it comes to her!”

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “This is different!”

“How?!”

Crimson eyes locked with yours as he scowled deeply. “She involved you!”

His admission stunned you into silence.

It wasn’t all that common nowadays to witness Shadowheart succumb to her protective instinct to the point of no return.

But you could tell she was close to snapping when she approached Astarion, yellow flames dangerously swirled across her palms.

“Give me one good reason not to blast this Ava into oblivion,” she growled with ire. “Or you, for that matter.”

He gave her a mocking scoff. “Darling, I’d love to see you try.”

She smiled deviously and you knew it was time to intervene. 

You carefully placed your hand on her arm. “Shadowheart.”

She glanced at you almost in disbelief. “‘Shadowheart’? He’s out here dealing with dodgy people and putting us all at risk! Now she’s also involved with murdering people in Waterdeep?”

Astarion let out an exasperated groan. “What connection is there between the two, then?”

In all honesty, you weren’t quite sure.

Not yet, at least.

At this point, you were allowing your gut feeling to guide you, and it could very well blow up in your face if she turned out to be innocent in all of this.

However… the warning signs were too loud to ignore.

“I… don’t know yet.”

Astarion was glaring at you with pursed lips, and you vaguely wondered if he was upset with you, or if he was actually upset that his judgement had failed him when it came to Ava.

“You can bleed yourself dry if you wish, but not her ,” Shadowheart pressed in a low voice.

“I know .” he shot back.

She took a step forward, her face dangerously close to his. “Then you’d do well to remember that my respect for you has its limits. Do not cross them.”

You tugged at her arm again, trying to put some distance in between them.

“Well, this conversation isn’t going anywhere,” he said after a while with a scoff before turning around to leave. “I’ll be in my room.”

You tried to go after him, but Shadowheart held you firmly in place. “Let him go.”

It was hard to do so, but you nodded as you sat on a nearby chair.

“I know you care deeply for him, but this is beyond ludicrous.” she said with a heavy sigh.

Her voice was that of reason, so you couldn’t fault her for being so apprehensive.

“He would never harm me.”

And you would always stand by this as sure as the sun is to rise.

“Not consciously, but by dealing with this woman, he might have opened a door to great peril.”

You nodded, avoiding her penetrating gaze. “Wyll is running a few checks on some information she gave me. I guess we’ll find an answer soon enough.”

Shadowheart’s face softened every so slightly.

“Please exert caution with Astarion,” she said, grabbing your hand. “And I’m not talking about this in particular.

Oh.

“I don’t doubt for a second that he cares for you, but I don’t want to see you bound to nightmares,” she said in a whisper. “That is no way of living.”

You took a deep breath. “Things are fine between us.”

Unexpectedly, she let out a chuckle. “Oh, I’m sure. My room is next to his and… well, let’s just say that I may have overheard him mumbling your name a few times…”

“What do you…”

Oh.

“So, just… be careful,” she pleaded as she gripped your hand fiercely. “I trust your judgement, but not his… especially not after this.

You felt your heart swell with affection for Shadowheart and you pulled her into a tight embrace, almost tearing up as you did so.

“Thank you.”

She rubbed your back affectionately and whispered, “I adore you.”

“So do I.”

It was becoming more and more apparent that standing outside Astarion’s room was almost part of a routine now.

After a few more seconds, she finally pulled back with a reassuring smile. “I’ll tell the Fists outside to inform Wyll of what’s happened.”

And it was also unnecessarily hard to reach out for that first knock.

You had waited a couple of hours before deciding on what to do.

Wyll hadn’t shown up yet and there was still no word from Waterdeep.

So, you took a deep breath and as you were about to rasp your knuckles against the door, a charming voice was heard, “I know you’re outside.”

Of course he did.

“Can I come in?”

A brief pause.“Be my guest.”

You turned the knob and rushed inside, clicking the door shut behind you.

As expected, the room was plunged in a candle-lit dimness as the curtains draped over the window kept the blazing sun at bay.

Astarion lay on his bed, resting against the headboard as he threaded his way along a piece of cloth with a needle, his eyes solely focused on the task at hand.

Your stomach turned and twisted in knots, and you realised you weren’t quite sure how to start the conversation.

A low chuckle was heard. “I’m assuming you didn’t come here to simply stare at me, darling.”

The lightheartedness in his voice made you feel slightly at ease and you shook your head. “No. I suppose not.”

This time, he did meet your eyes briefly and your heart skipped a beat.“As dashing as I am, I’d rather hear what you have to say instead.”

Right.

You cleared your throat, taking careful steps towards him before taking a seat at the feet of his bed, mindful to keep a certain respectful distance.

“I should have told you about Ava earlier on when you asked me.”

“Indeed.”

He didn’t sound upset in the slightest.

If anything, there was a faint hint of strange calmness to his voice.

“As for Shadowheart…”

He let out a snort. “Please. The day she stops worrying about you is the day I’ll find her in a casket.”

You couldn’t help out a short chuckle as he was absolutely right. 

Still, you laced your hands in your lap, absentmindedly fidgeting with your fingers. “I…” you began, before drifting off as uncertainty took place. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

Astarion paused altogether and his crimson eyes were on you again.

“See, I do understand that reasoning,” he said, tugging at the thread that curled around one finger. “But considering the nature of your conversation with her, you should have told me right away.”

You nodded.

“As fruitful as my connection to her might prove to be, I cannot accept the deal you made with her.”

Your heart raced in your chest at how determined he seemed in his resolve. 

However…

“If what she says is true and someone is after us, this feels like a small price to pay.”

Astarion snipped the thread with a pair of scissors before setting his handiwork on the bedside table.

The look on his face could easily make the bravest men cower in fear.

“Nothing that involves you is a ‘small price to pay’,” he said, voice low and heavy. “It’s one thing for me to willfully provide my blood, and another for her to take advantage of you so blatantly.”

You frowned deeply. “She is also taking advantage of you, then.” 

“I can deal with her.”

Astarion had this tendency to sell himself short in terms of self-worth. At times, he was as confident as one could be, but the centuries of robbed autonomy and lack of genuine bond to others would often slip in and take hold.

He was probably not even aware of how easy it was for you to catch on to this, but you knew him well enough by now. 

“You don’t have to.”

He rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms. “Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do.”

It nearly shattered you to hear him put up his defences around you so unbelievably fast.

There was no need for that.

“Don’t ,” you nearly pleaded. “Please don’t assume I am trying to tell you what to do.”

Just as rapidly, his features softened ever so slightly. “I apologise.”

You vehemently shook your head. “I also apologise if my words came across as condescending.”

An unsettling silence took place.

His eyes roamed across your face and you felt more exposed to him than you had ever been even when fully naked in his presence.

Even though you felt comfortable and safe with him, there were times when you wondered if it was reciprocal.  

“Ava is not your concern,” he eventually said. “I will deal with her.”

You had no doubt he would.

It just saddened you that… “I know she was helping you out in more ways than one, even if I don’t particularly agree with the… method, so to speak.”

“Yet here you are, thinking that whatever bond I share with her is significant enough,” he said, voice dripping with amusement. “I am using her as much as she is using me. But I never allowed for that to extend to you. Ever .”

You swallowed as his harsh words hit you.

“That was her first mistake – involving you.”

“I took the deal freely.” you said.

“You didn’t have to at all,” he retorted impatiently. “She needs me more than I need her. So, if she knows anything about someone coming after us, she will tell me and I won’t be kind when I ask her to.”

Fair enough.

“Will you still give her your blood?”

“It depends.”

You blinked. “On what?”

“On how the conversation goes,” he said with a shrug. “Though what I do know for certain is that I will not give her blood after feeding on you.”

An impending sense of dread rose inside you and you vaguely wondered if you had just fucked up.

Information was power, and you worried that she might not take it well now that Astarion was openly against her proposal. 

But to be fair, she did mention she would let him know about all of this. So, it wasn’t truly your fault that he didn’t take it well, was it?

In fact, it was very much on brand with Astarion.

His sense of loyalty to you was unwavering and transcended any arrangement the two of you had agreed to.

And that was a bond not easily severed, probably much to Ava’s dismay.

“You are off limits.”

It wasn’t a subtle warning by any means and it made your heart swell with warmth somehow. His protectiveness nearly rivalled that of Shadowheart, though you wouldn’t dare tell her this.

A faint smile curled his lips. “I have to thank you.”

You arched an eyebrow. “For what?”

He hesitated at first. “I know you mean well. I do know that.”

Oh, Astarion…

“You’re a better friend than I could ever have hoped for – or even deserve,” he went on. “It is hard at times to be vulnerable. I was never allowed to. For centuries I equated being vulnerable to being weak… even pathetic.”

You were unsure of how to respond, but you felt each word tug at your heartstrings in a way that you had only felt when he had confessed his feelings for you back in Moonrise Towers. 

“I’m still getting used to this…” He paused abruptly as if pondering his next words. “Allowing myself to feel all these emotions, I suppose.”

“You are more deserving than you think,” you said truthfully. “Give yourself some credit. You used to be bound to your selfishness when we first met. You didn’t care for others because no one ever cared for you.”

His face held an expression akin to hurt, but it was the good kind of pain. Breaking one’s protective shell didn’t come without discomfort, but it was worth it in the long run. 

Unconsciously, you shifted along the edge of the bed as the overwhelming urge to embrace him took over you at once. 

Still, you didn’t want to push it, so you halted once you were sitting right next to him, which earned an amused smile from him.

“I have something for you.”

“Oh?”

He reached his hand to grab the piece of cloth on the nightstand. The very same he had just been embroidering moments ago.

“Come here.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he tapped his thigh twice. 

Noticing your hesitancy, he repeated the motion until you gathered yourself, feeling a rush of heat pool at your cheeks.

“You do have a thing for keeping me waiting, darling.” he remarked playfully.

A chuckle made its way past your lips as you moved to settle on his lap, careful not to sit too close to his-

“Here you go,” he said, proffering what resembled a kerchief of some sort.

You took it in your hands, admiring its silky texture and mesmerising fusion of different shades of blue that swirled beautifully together until your eyes spotted the yellow-threaded embroidery sprawled along one corner.

Your name.

The needlework was impeccable as always.

Your eyes widened in sheer bewilderment as you remembered the last time he had offered you such a gift.“I – this is beautiful,” you managed to say. “The other one was a masterpiece as well.”

He chuckled tenderly. “The timing of my offering was rather inopportune on that day – I should have waited until we were back in camp.”

His words were sweet and caressed you like a lover, and you could feel yourself drawn more and more to him.

“May I?”

You nodded as he took the kerchief from your hands only to have it drape around your neck, his fingers tugging gently at both ends as his eyes met yours.

Oh.

Fuck.

You only had time to hastily hold on to the headboard with both hands for support as he pulled you in closer. “May I kiss you?”

It was an uncomfortable position to be in since you were trying to avoid his crotch at all costs.

“Where?”

His gaze dropped to your lips.

“Friends don’t do that.” you teased, but still inching closer to him.

“Darling ,” he began with a click of his tongue, rolling the edges of the fabric around each finger. “We haven’t been friends for quite a while now.”

And then he kissed you.

It was a hungry and urgent kiss and his tongue quickly slipped past your lips, causing you to instantly melt into him.

The softest moan escaped your throat as you felt a single fang nip teasingly at your lower lip.

Driven by pure instinct, you shifted along his thighs until you were pressed against his crotch.

He broke the kiss to let out a strained groan and you immediately lifted your hips, alarmed that you had gone too far.

But his hands immediately dropped to your waist, holding you in place. “Don’t.”

You met his lustful gaze. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t. Please .”

He didn’t push you back against him, but you felt his fingers tease the waistband of your trousers. 

“Astarion…” you said, unsure if this was a good idea.

He tugged again, but more gently this tme. “We don't have to do anything you don't feel comfortable with.”

Oh, you were more than eager to carry on. In fact, you were desperate .

You bit your lip, torn between listening to reason or giving in to the moment.

The latter won by a landslide. 

You nodded and he masterfully undid the buttons and laces with one hand.

“Do you trust me?”

What an odd question from him. “You know I do.”

His thumb traced your jawline before grazing your lower lip and earning a sigh from you. “Can I trust you not to scream?”

“Scream? Why would I-”

Realisation hit you like a tidal wave and your eyes widened as words died in your mouth.

Oh.

Astarion smiled cheekily, patting your thigh, clearly urging you to slide off of his lap.  “Lock the door.”

You were still taken aback and didn't move an inch, staring into his crimson eyes instead as your heart drummed rapidly in your chest.

“Lock the door .”

It resembled a plea, which caused you to clench involuntarily from how desperate he sounded.

Swiftly slipping off his lap, you hurried across his room to turn the key below the doorknob until a click was heard.

By the time you turned around, Astarion had removed his shirt and you were rooted in place, utterly speechless.

He was a work of art. 

No words of praise would ever do him justice.

Your mouth had dropped slightly open and he chuckled deviously. “You’re free to stay there and gawk, but I’d rather have you on top of me.”

His teasing snapped you out of your trance-like state and you felt a stronger wave of heat flare across your face and rush down your body.

Your legs felt weak all of a sudden, but you found your way back to him as you always did.

In the end, all roads did lead back to him.

As if driven by an outside force, you quickly slipped out of your trousers, only leaving on your underwear which was already gathering a growing wet spot.

His stare was fixed on your lower half and you spotted the familiar outline of his cock strained in his own trousers.

He eased you back on his lap with a firm grip on your waist and a boyish grin on his lips. Your hands settled on his bare shoulders, still mindful to not lower your hips too much.

“So, my dearest friend… ” he said, adjusting the kerchief around your neck. “How often do you indulge in such activities with your other friends?”

You smirked playfully. “Not often enough.”

He mirrored your expression, fingers slowly undoing each button of your shirt. “Oh? I wonder who crosses your mind, then.”

You.

But he already knew that as his hands travelled down your chest, each breath allowing your shirt to part wide enough to expose your heaving breasts.

“Is it Wyll?”

“You and your obsession with Wyll,” you laughed as he slowly pulled the fabric to the side, exposing each breast at a time. “I’m starting to think you want him for yourself.”

His eyes left yours to gaze at a perky nipple. “The question is: would you be willing to share?”

You whimpered softly as his thumb traced the underside of one breast and you felt too tempted to press down against his erection just so you could comfort the throb in between your legs. 

“Of course… I’m all for sharing friends.” 

Once he began grazing your nipple, you had to grip his shoulders tighter to anchor yourself.

Your body undulated instinctively, earning a hum of approval from him.

“Would you let Wyll do this, then? As a friend, obviously.”

You were about to arch a brow at his question when you felt one finger pulling your underwear to the side, exposing yourself to him.

It was almost comical how soaked you already were.

You reckoned it was enough to take more than just his fingers.

“Would you let him, darling?”

“I–”

But your voice died in your throat as he ran a single cool finger along your folds, carefully avoiding the swell in between them much to your agony.

The shift in temperature was always something that took some time getting used to and you occasionally flinched as your body adjusted to his touch.

“Can I do this, then?” he asked in a low growl as he teased your entrance. “As a friend.”

You rolled your hips out of reflex and he sank into you with ease until he was knuckle-deep. 

“Gods…” you moaned in sheer relief, instinctively clenching around him.

He then pressed his thumb between your folds, causing your hips to jerk as he teased the pulsing swell. It wasn’t long until you began to slowly ride him, your eyes nearly fluttering shut.

“You can take more, can’t you?” he cooed, moving his hand to tease your other nipple. “I remember how eager you used to be for my cock.”

At this rate, he would make you come from his teasing words alone and with a single finger buried inside you.

“Astarion… don’t…” you moaned as you rolled your hips, urging him on. 

He needed to shut up…

You needed him to stop talking before-

He suddenly slipped a second finger and you lost your balance, pressing your breasts against his bare chest while seeking support from his shoulder as you buried your face in his neck.

“You have no idea how I longed to be inside you again,” he sighed, his fingers gripping your waist and guiding your sloppy rolls, eventually setting the pace. “My hands can never feel as divine as you do.”

Gods…

You shuddered violently as your moans quickly turned into sobs and whimpers, the wet lewd sounds filling your ears.

He pressed the heel of his palm against you, the delicious friction causing you to rake your  hand down from his shoulder and along his chest until he caught your wrist, pressing your heated palm against his hardened nipple.

Astarion immediately groaned and you felt him arch into you.

“Darling…” he moaned, pumping his fingers faster inside you. “Please look down.”

You were so out of it, that his words didn’t register at first, so you kept on riding him in between sobs, further teasing his nipple under your touch.

“Look down,” he repeated more firmly, nearly slipping out of you. “I want you to see the mess you’ve made.”

“ No-no-no … please…” you nearly cried in exasperation, moving your hips desperately against him.

“Then look down.”

You growled in pure frustration, somehow managing to pull back enough to have your eyes land on the hand in between your legs.

It was soaked down to his wrist, and you could see some of it beginning to drip, staining his strained bulge.

You felt an overwhelming wave of embarrassment wash down over you and tried to bury your face in his neck again, but he gripped your chin with his fingers, halting you.

“Do not hide from me,” he said, slipping his fingers back inside as he stared into your half-hooded eyes. “This is one of the highest praises you can offer me.” And he proved his point by planting the softest kiss on your lips.

You immediately melted into his praise, realising just how lovely he could be…

The pent-up sexual frustration was at an all time high and you could feel the familiar coil in your lower abdomen reach the point of no return.

You wished you were strong enough to fight him back with snarky and witty replies, but your concentration was broken. 

“What about a third one?”

You didn’t care anymore.

You just wanted release.

It had been too long since he had made you come and you'd take anything he gave you at this point.

“Just…” you began, chasing after that high relentlessly. “ Just… ”

He had the nerve to chuckle at your frustration and you felt a third finger prodding at your entrance.

You could take it.

You would take it.

The fullness would most surely remind you of his cock and you needed it.

You were wet enough to accommodate him as he pushed through, earning a gasp from you followed by a shudder and a strained groan.

“I don’t mean to brag, but I highly doubt dear Wyll would get this reaction from you.”

“Gods… stop talking about Wyll as you’re inside me,” you managed to string coherents words together in between your moans. “Just… please…”

He pressed a kiss to your flushed cheek. “You always take me so well.”

How you wished it was his cock instead, stretching you even more and filling you deeper.

You were nearly there.

“Don’t scream, darling.” he teased as you rode him desperately. “We wouldn't want dear Shadowheart to overhear your wanton cries.”

Well, Shadowheart was already privy to the nature of your relationship with Astarion thanks to him and how he clearly didn't shy away from taking care of himself with others around.

Your mind was about to blank and you slid the kerchief from your neck, feeling the need to bite down on something as you reached your peak.

A few more hip rolls did the trick and one last stroke of his thumb along your folds managed to push you right over the edge.

Your contractions were so violent and strong at first you thought you might die from how hard you were clenching around him, your legs wobbling dangerously as you were drained of lifeforce with each blinding wave of bliss.

The piece of cloth in your mouth didn’t do much to muffle you as your climax tore throughout your body, but it was better than having nothing.

Astarion only slid out once you had slumped into his chest, barely able to keep your breathing steady.

Your knees gave out and you sank down against his crotch, earning a guttural growl from deep within him.

Shit.

You instantly slid off of him, worrying you had accidentally gone too far. “Astarion… I’m…”

He shook his head, the hand that was soaked in your wetness clawing at the front of his trousers as his eyes were pressed shut.

Oh.

“I’ll take care of this…” he let out a pained hiss.

Oh.

“I can just leave,” you mumbled. “I’m…”

His trousers were now undone and you could see his clothes cock faintly throbbing.

And he shook his head once again. “You can stay – you can watch… if you want to.” His words were coated in urgent lust. 

Your eyes widened at his proposition and you thought you might implode right there and then.

You had barely come down from your climax and the throbbing that had begun to subside was already about to match your quickened heartbeat.

“Or you can leave…” he said in a low and strained voice.

Oh, he was truly holding back…

“I… can stay.” you offered at once, sitting next to him and trying to ignore the lust that was building inside you once again.

This wasn't about you.

He quickly nodded and with a swift tug he freed his cock and you had to bite down hard on your lip at the mesmerising sight in front of you.

A single strand of precum dangled from the tip, already pooling on his lower abdomen. 

“Gods above…” he let out a sigh of relief, hips lifting from the mattress as he wrapped the hand drenched in your wetness around him. 

This was too hot to witness and you curled your hands into fists on your lap, wishing nothing more than to touch him again.

But you knew he needed this.

He needed to feel at ease with his body first.

His eyes met yours briefly before dropping to your chest and to your breasts as they heaved from your laboured breathing.

You removed your shirt, not wanting to obstruct his view and Astarion growled .

The pace was slow at first as he squeezed his cock, but he quickly picked up, mixing your wetness with his with each stroke.

He looked positively ethereal as his handsome face twisted in pleasure, lips parted and razor-sharp fangs peeking through. 

Should you say something? Should you praise him? Encourage him? Or would it be too much?

From what you remembered, he seemed to revel in your teasing words in moments of shared bliss, but how much of that was an act back then? Was he ever able to fully enjoy being with you?

In doubt, you chose to remain silent as you watched him bring himself closer to his own climax.

It didn't take him long to start mumbling your name in between heated pants and there was no way back now.

You were throbbing hard again, wetness spilling from you with each involuntarily clench. 

Your body was so ready for him… it was almost painful.

A thicker string of precum bridged his tip to his abdomen, and you nearly moaned, remembering its sweet taste.

He rolled his hips languidly, eyes never leaving you as he gripped the bedsheets under him with such force you reckoned me might tear right through the fabric.

That sparked newfound curiosity inside you.

Slowly, you leaned forward, shifting closer just to have your hand next to his without quite touching him, but close enough for him to feel your warmth.

I'm here… I'm with you, you wanted to whisper, but only heard the words echo in your head.

He groaned in response and, much to your surprise, he released the sheets and his fingers found you, intertwining them in yours as he held on to you. 

Your heart might have skipped several beats, you were no longer sure at this rate.

You had seen him reach his peak a handful of times before, but there was something different about the way he toppled over the edge this time.

He threw his head back against the headboard, straining his neck as his mouth dropped open, your name being the only intelligible word you could make out in the midst of hisses and groans. 

Your heart was hammering so fast in your chest that you feared you might not make it as he reached his peak.

His hips still momentarily and he covered his swollen tip with his hand and the first spurts of cum began to slip through his fingers before dribbling down to gather at the base and across his lower abdomen.

You held his hand formçy through his climax. Perhaps the first genuine one you had ever witnessed, which invoked an odd feeling of… delight?

For the second time in just a mere couple of days, the two of you held hands albeit seeking varying degrees of comfort and relief.

Beads of sweat rolled down his temple and covered his bare torso as he descended from his high and that was when his eyes met yours.

Your stomach turned and you felt the throb between your legs begin to ease with each passing second.

“Will you kiss me?”

His request took you by surprise, but you promptly shifted next to him until your face was close enough that your lips grazed his.

Only then did he let go of your hand and merely because he meant to hold your chin as he kissed you softly.

It carried neither urgency nor lust.

Just a pure display of silent  intimacy that strummed at your heartstrings more effectively than any other praise he could ever offer you.

You melted into his sweet touch and allowed your kiss to express the unspoken words you had yet to tell him.

I love you…

Whichever form of love it was, all you knew was that it felt right and love overdue.

You could feel him occasionally smile against your lips and there was not a single drop of doubt in you.

I love you.

After what felt like an eternity, you pulled away, already mourning his touch.

“Shadowheart knows.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

You had to hold back a chuckle. “She heard you – well, when you were… handling things after feeding on me.”

The most mischievous of smiles settled on his lips. 

“I thought you said you were quiet…”

“I was, darling,” he said before pecking your cheek. “For the most part, that is.”

You giggled and then stared at him in awe as his beauty increased tenfold from where you sat.

He was impossibly handsome.

“You’re so…”

“Charming?”

You rolled your eyes as he pressed his cool lips to your other cheek.

“Beautiful?”

Another kiss.

“You’re so… you.” you blurted out almost feeling embarrassed from how basic your praise was.

But it drew the biggest smile from him, and you mirrored it instantly.

“Well…”

You watched as his eyes dropped to his lower half and yours widened slightly at the obscene amount of cum was now dribbling down his sides in thick beads. His hand was still holding his now softening cock, fingers drenched in his own spend.

“That’s a lot…” you said.

He nodded, looking almost as perplexed as you were. “I don’t think I’ve ever…” and his voice trailed down.

And you knew exactly what he meant.

With a warm smile, you extended your hand, offering him the kerchief he had gifted you moments before.

He visibly winced. “No, darling. It would be nigh criminal to use such delicate fabric on this .”

Your smile widened. “Can I fetch you a towel then?”

“Please,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “It’s rather messy here.”

You pressed a fleeting kiss to his lips before sliding off the bed and hurriedly slipping into your shirt and trousers and crossing the room.

The key turned in one swift move and you quickly left the room.

You were only able to take a few steps before a silhouette startled you.

Shadowheart.

She was leaning against the railing by the top of the staircase with folded arms and a quirked brow.

“Gods! You scared me,” you said, clutching at your chest. 

“Glad some of us are able to enjoy ourselves in such times.”

You swallowed hard. “Uh… we were just talking.”

She snickered humorously. “I suppose it’s a form of communication.”

An overwhelming heatwave spread across your face. Had you been that loud? Or had he? 

Then her expression turned serious. “Pull yourself together. We have visitors.” 

TBC

[k-zuzu]

스트레이키즈

b.C, l.MH, k.SM, i.N 𖹭 gn!reader

my enemy.

synopsis: they eventually give in after years of hatred, rivalry, and built-up tension only to get caught by another member.

content: (seperate) bang chan, lee know, seungmin, i.n x gn!reader, enemies 2 what?, suggestive themes/smut 18+ (minors do not interact), making out, grinding, no genitalia or pronouns specified for the reader but you are the bottom and exhibit bottom behavior, sexual frustration, fingering/handjob in bang chan's, masturbation, penetration, bratty!reader, getting caught, mean dom!lee know, reader is called a 'pretty princess' in lee know's, hair pulling, edging, name calling in i.n's, traumatized skz witnesses, self explanatory, not proofread, lowercase intended.

zuzu's note: maybe this should be a series... i wrote them with a reader who can't get along with them (and vice versa) because... well, that's kind of how enemies work. part 2 here!

main masterlist.

channie.

you never liked chan. he wasn't at your pace — too hard working, too selfless, too self deprecating. you were annoyed by the fact that he never took care of himself, and so you avoided him regardless of how you shared the same friend group. you didn't like surrounding yourself with "negative" people like him.

chan on the other hand, didn't like you because he thought you were a rude person — you wouldn't say please, you wouldn't say thank you, you actively ignored him/pretended you didn't hear him even when he spoke to you. he didn't care if you were nice to him, he just didn't like rude people.

it wasn't known that you two were enemies — it was unspoken between you and chan, and nobody in the group took notice because you never really talked, and so, when you two were the only ones left to watch over the dorm while the rest went back to family homes or their own secret affairs, what bang chan didn't expect was to hear small moans emerging from your bedroom late at night.

you knew he wouldn't be asleep at this time. he never slept. he was always working on something with his headphones on and you were feeling really sexually frustrated at the time. you assumed for sure he wouldn't be able to hear you if you struggled a bit, but unlike you expected, he heard every bit of it, and as much as he hated it, it turned him on more than he'd like to admit.

you weren't getting anywhere with your efforts, and when you heard a knock on your door it this time of night, it could only have been one person and that ruined your entire mood. "what?" you groaned. not getting your hand out of your pants because you knew chan wouldn't just walk in and you might as well have continued what you were doing the moment he would walk away from your room.

"...so, i'm trying to work on something, but your... noises aren't exactly helping me concentrate."

you blushed and immediately withdrew your hand, immediately sitting up. you didn't know how to respond and it was silent for a good few seconds.

"s-so i would appreciate it if you... um... i- i don't know, lowered it... a bit... thanks."

with that, you heard his footsteps fade away and retreat into his own dorm next to yours. you let out the large sigh you had been holding in and wondered how you would ever go back to sleep at this rate. or how you'd ever be able to masturbate in peace again.

you didn't know why, or where you even got the courage to, but you found yourself knocking on chan's door just moments after what happened. sure, you were embarrassed but you only had little of your dignity left and might as well have lost it all when he opened the door with a small crack and curiously looked at your nervous form.

"would it be alright if you... h-helped me?" you asked with a soft voice, bang chan stared at you, expression unwavering. to clarify, you stumbled over your next words. "i have been struggling lately, and—"

bang chan grabbed your wrist and dragged you into his room, slamming the door behind you.

"and what do i get in return?" bang chan asked, voice gruff as he stared deeply into your eyes.

"...my silence for the next few weeks?" you attempted to make a deal.

"so i'll have to do this every time you're frustrated? just so i can work?" he clarified.

"does it sound like something you wanna do?"

"i guess we'll have to see first."

bang chan gently led your form to his bed, slamming you down and pinning you against the soft mattress, his hand rubbing down at your croch. you didn't know why but something about hating him up until this very moment was what turned you on most. without any more words, bang chan put his hand down your pyjamas the same way you had tried all night and continued to pleasure you better than you ever could have. if he hated you so much, why was he so good at making you feel loved?

"f-fuck, i'm so close." you whimpered, gripping onto the sheets beneath you as bang chan picked up his pace.

"yeah? you getting there, baby?" his hand never got tired. "d'you wanna do this all night?" why did he seem to enjoy pleasuring you like you enjoyed being pleasured? the mere thought brought you so close to your climax. "i could go all night, baby." he whispered in your ear, and with that, you pathetically came into your pants and on chan's big, rough hand.

you slowly turned your face to look at him, "i could go for a round 2—"

"hey, chan, i decided to come back early-" you both turned to see lee know who nonchalantly walked into the room, eyes glued to his phone as he set his bag down on the ground. chan quickly withdrew his hand from your pants, wiping it on his shirt as he stood up and walked around the side of the room while you sat up on the mattress, fixing your hair and looking at the oh-so-interesting floor. lee know looked up from his phone.

"oh, hi, y/n. what are you doing here?"

you nervously exchanged glances with chan and gulped before you could shrug and form a lie—

"oh my g- you guys fucked." lee know deadpanned, pointing at you, then chan, then you. "disgusting." he turned around and left the room. "chan's room reeks of sex now. this is totally going in the gc."

know.

it was easy to hate lee know. the moment you met him, you hated him in all sorts of ways — bad first impression, started off on the wrong foot, rubbed you off in the wrong way, and many more. you wanted to rip his guts out along with his cocky smirk, condescending voice, and dark gaze whenever he would make fun of you or judge literally anything you'd do.

lee know hated you because you were too pretty. you were too golden — everyone treated you like a princess and he hated it, he didn't think you deserved it. not that he was jealous or anything, he just believed you weren't worth all the effort and love the members gave you and assumed you were spoiled. your screaming matches were not uncommon in the dorms and lee know would always leave you stressed and pissed off to the point where you wanted to move out and he loved pushing you to that edge.

which is the exact reason you didn't know why he was pounding into you so good on the living room couch, your begs, moans, and mewls filling the silence of the dark, empty room.

"fuck," lee know cursed under his breath as he picked up his pace, you were clenching around his fat cock so good and after just a few thrusts, he was already so close to reaching his climax. "why are you so quiet now, hm? did the cat get your tongue?" he leaned in closer to put a soft kiss on your lips, prying them open and gently biting your tongue. "hm?" he pulled away.

it's that condescending 'hm' again that gets you. what used to irritate you so much turned you on right now even more.

"hngg...n.. pl- please..." you whimpered. "please, let me cum," you silently begged, voice being interrupted with each harsh thrust lee know pushed into you, you were getting closer and closer to cumming and you just wanted lee know to let you.

"oh, you're begging? that's so unexpected of a spoiled brat who always gets what they want." lee know abruptly pulled out and roughly grabbed your hair, pushing your head into the couch. "but you're not getting it tonight, understand?"

before you could form another response, another weak plead, a form had walked into the room and turned on the bright lights. "WOAAAAH, WHAT THE FUCK?!" bang chan screeched, you and lee know looked over to see him covering his eyes. "FOR GOD'S SAKE, PEOPLE, GET A ROOM." he sobbed and left the room in a rush. lee know chuckled a bit before getting off of you, zipping up, and walking back to his dorm.

"i guess we'll pick this up another time."

minnie.

you fucking hated kim seungmin. he was the bane of your existence and making fun of you was the entertainment of his. tripping you, judging your every major life decision and move, and overall making your life a living hell. today, you were at the dorm to rant to changbin about your recent breakup, and seungmin just had to be in the same room, making his coffee and listening on the conversation.

"you need to focus on yourself," changbin advised with a soft voice, gently rubbing your back as you gripped your hair in frustration. "i need to use the toilet real quick, be back." he left the room.

"what was it about you that's so unlovable?" seungmin suddenly inquired as he walked in the room leaning on the doorframe as he stirred his coffee. "is it because you're an asshole? or because you suck overall?... wait... oh, shittt." seungmin covered his mouth, standing up straight. "are you just straight up awful in bed?"

"dude, do you ever just shut the fuck up?" you slammed your hand on the table.

"if you ever need help to learn how to be better in bed, just know i'm right here to-"

"seungmin, i swear, leave the room right now before anything else happens. i'm not in the mood."

"y/n, no joke, i fuck." he placed his cup down on the table and sat in front of you, cross legged. "c'mon, what do you need help with?"

"it's not the sex-" you paused and started to think about it. "i...is it?" you tilted your head.

"come on," seungmin gestured for you to come to him, and subconsciously you found yourself doing so, crawling closer until you were in his lap. "what is it you need help with?" he repeated the earlier question, only this time he was softer, sweeter. unlike the seungmin you always knew.

you were nervous, so you just shook your head.

"use your words, baby." he whispered.

just as you were gonna respond to him, you felt his boner against yourself and you couldn't form a coherent thought. "i- i..." your voice was breathy and you tried to pry yourself off of him out of your anxiety, but his grip kept you in place. "i don't know..." you managed to say.

"can i kiss you?" he asked.

you nodded your head, and he gently connected your lips together in a silent bliss before deepening the kiss, he pulled away to mumble, "i'm gonna teach you a few things tonight." before smashing your lips back together. why is such an asshole so good at kissing? the whole situation turned you on to a point where you felt a little guilty, but you started slowly grinding on seungmin's hard-on, letting out small moans into his mouth.

"okay, y/n—" changbin walked into the room. "woah- woah," he rushed over and dragged you away from seungmin. "Y/N! I LEAVE YOU ALONE FOR TWO MINUTES AND YOU ALREADY TRY TO HOOK UP WITH YOUR ENEMY?!"

i.nnie

you and i.n constantly fought for the position of best maknae and it went from a harmless fight for the love of your seniors to a personal vendetta against one another. you would bicker over the pettiest stuff like getting the last of the juice or who gets to use the tv remote, but each argument would last from hours to days or even weeks before you find a new thing to be petty about and fight over.

today, what you were fighting over was different. the topic went from "who was the better kisser?" to "who was the best at having sex?"

"why? i've had many people tell me that i 'rock their world.' it's equal pleasure for both parties when i'm there, they don't have to fake it just as i don't." you argued.

"so what? words are words." i.n nonchalantly shrugged and disregarded your argument. "i bet you i can fake cumming if i fucked you." he blurted out.

"really? wanna bet?" you smirked, taking a step toward him. you could see him nervously gulp his saliva.

and that's how you ended up in his bed, with you sitting down on his fully hard cock. "shit." i.n whimpered. "i- i didn't know a- a slut like you could be so tight..." he held back his groan.

"awh... are you gonna cum already? i thought you could fake it..." you taunted as you bounced once on his dick.

"w-wait!" i.n leaned forward and grabbed your hips in place, looking down in between you and how you connected. "j-just wait." he whispered. you looked into each other's eyes for a moment before he used his strength to pull you off of him, he flipped you over and pushed his dick back inside you. "i wanna fuck you."

"hey— that wasn't the deal, i was supposed to be the one who-" i.n put his hand over your mouth and began pounding into you relentlessly, you wanted to interject but it felt too good.

"just tap me twice if you don't like it." he whispered and kept his hand over your mouth before slipping three of his fingers inside and playing with your tongue and saliva. the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the quiet room, i.n went faster and faster thrusting inside you. you whimpered against his fingers and he did his best to keep his moans quiet, only letting out occassional sighs and groans.

you could feel your high approaching and you could tell i.n was also reaching his with how his pace became inconsistent and a bit jittery. "sh...shit..." he whimpered as he came into you, and you were about to reach your climax as well when the door abruptly slammed open, causing i.n to stop his movement and you both snapped your heads toward the man standing in the frame — fucking seungmin.

"yo, hey, hEy, hEY, HEY, WHAT ARE YOU DOiNG?!" his voice cracked as he processed the sight before him, pointing at the two of you i.n leaned over and grabbed a pillow next to your head.

"GET OUT!" he yelled, reaching for the sheets to cover you up.

"GET OFF OF EACH OTHER FIRST!" seungmin made no effort in covering his eyes (for his or your sake) or lowering his voice as he stared, wide-eyed at the sight.

"GET OUT OF MY ROOM!"

[starrywilliams]

guilty as sin? | abby anderson

“these fatal fantasies giving way to labored breath, taking all of me, we’ve already done it in my head”

warnings: masturbation, slight masochism, ruined orgasm, angst, perv!abby (a little), internalized homophobia (discussed in more detail below)

notes: no surprise my favourite ttpd song is the gayest one on the album, but guilty as sin? screams lesbian guilt i fear!!!! i’ve been writing this for over a month so i hope u guys like it 😭

cw: discussion of lesbian guilt & comphet - these are somewhat based on my own experiences with my sexuality and i absolutely!!! do not think a man can ‘cure’ a lesbian or anything similar to that. nor do i believe anyone should ever feel guilty for being gay. realising i’m a lesbian has been extremely freeing & dykes r the best x

wc: 1.8k

likes, comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated :)

the door slammed harshly behind abby as she stormed into her room. she pulled her jacket off desperately; her skin hot under its tight vice. she’d been in the gym, trying to work out her endless frustration of late, when you’d walked in.

you’d only said “hi" and smiled politely at her before setting your things down. but she felt her stomach churn, a black hole opening inside her. abby stood up, pulling the weights off the barbell and onto their rack. she grunted softly, glancing at you from the corner of her eye.

you’d started stretching, currently bent over as you touched your toes. her eyes drifted for an infinitesimal moment, locking onto the swell of your-. she looked away - wrongwrongwrong.

but then she looked back, her stare feasting on your body. she wondered whether you were doing this on purpose, trying to tempt her from across the room. she wondered if you knew her dirty little secret, abby picturing a smirk on your face as you mocked her for such indecent thoughts.

she didn’t want to feel this way. she didn’t want to feel the poison ivy swarming around her chest, getting tighter, tighter. the rash spread inside her; this invisible whip of lust lashing against her skin whenever your face appeared in her mind. well, had it been just your face maybe she wouldn’t feel like some depraved sinner.

now it wasn’t like abby believed in god, in a world where death and destruction infect every crevice you’d have to be mad to believe that any ‘god’ wanted its followers to suffer so greatly. but something inside her screamed every time she had these thoughts. these impure, twisted thoughts about you.

she didn’t know what made her feel like this. what made her resent you for simply existing; and what made her resent herself.

she recalled her teenage years, when manny had subtly suggested that owen liked her - so she was supposed to like him back, right? and she tried! she loved him even - but there was always that something, that feeling in her gut that told her that something was wrong, something about him that just would never sit right with her.

but all the other girls wanted a boyfriend too, and the jealousy was nice at first - she’d thought. after all, mel was the star student, a doctor in the making, her dad’s favourite; and nora was this freshly trained medical officer, and abby was- abby was just abby.

her dad began noticing her more too - previously too preoccupied with his firefly duties and his favourite student. now his little girl was slipping away from him, he finally began paying her the amount of attention she’d craved for so long.

before, their conversations had often drifted into talk of mel and her new achievements, or his hopes of a vaccine, or some animal he was tracking. never anything about his daughter’s life.

having a boyfriend made her interesting, it gave the other girls something to envy. which was a nice reversal, for a while. then her dad died, and she had become this object of pity. owen helped a bit, she supposed. he tried to distract her and keep her focused on their new role as soldiers, but she barely cared about him anymore. all she wanted was revenge, and with revenge, came you.

you were one of the gyms trainers, passionate about helping the members of the wlf stay fit and healthy! you’d helped her start lifting weights, squealed as she reached every milestone, and had remarked jokingly about just how much you loved her new physique.

it was innocent at first, the most being her brain going a little fuzzy when you’d bit your lip while spotting her; a slight blush when you’d hugged her a little too tight. then, once she and owen were finally broken up, these new pictures began hanging themselves on the walls of her mind. still, innocent, just slightly tainted with desire - the true nature of them still an avoidable matter for her back then.

when she could ignore the truth in her recent behaviour, abby loved spending time with you. after all, you were just really good friends! anyway, she’d had a boyfriend before so everyone knew she was normal, and absolutely not different, and she would never ever have to feel like an outsider.

yet it took a mere three months before she gave up on this foolish lie. she liked you, and as long as nobody ever found out, it wouldn’t matter.

but as her mind grew dark and twisted - joel a constant topic in her head as she obsessed over finally getting to enact revenge - her thoughts got worse in turn. she wanted you - filthily and desperately.

every gym session ended with another cold shower, a desperate plea for her body to stop and let her focus on the task at hand; a hopeless attempt to bury this ache into the ground; an endless endeavour to escape these urges for just one second.

but then she came back changed, every hair on her body endlessly erected with guilt. the way she’d killed him so mercilessly, the way it had done nothing to ease the pain, and the way you had tormented her mind ceaselessly throughout the entire trip.

maybe, had she never met you, she could’ve just killed him and been satisfied. maybe had you never offered to train her personally, she could’ve just stayed comfortable in that stuffy closet. maybe if she found the right man she’d stop feeling this way.

abby deemed such ideas unfathomable now.

owen made her feel nothing. being with him was like an eternal thursday, an endless wait for the week’s end and its pleasure to turn up at her door. every day she’d wait for some spark to arrive, the routine only becoming more and more tedious by the minute. but he helped her get people’s attention, which was enough when she was just abby.

but then she was abby anderson, top scar killer and isaac’s favourite. she got attention on her own, she was praised for her own accomplishments: people worshipped the fucking ground she walked on. but they didn’t know who she really was.

they didn’t know she liked girls the way she was supposed to like boys. she’d seen it in enough of those wlf movie nights - cruel jokes about anyone who even thought about being different. she’d heard the way people gossiped, “did you hear that they’re moving lesbians into the family unit? what a joke.”

they said it like it was something dirty, something egregious, something that she had to hate about herself. so she did.

but as long as she kept it secret, kept it locked away in her mind, maybe she’d be okay. after all, only your actions talk: it was the age old question really, if a tree falls in a forest and no one else hears it, does it make a sound?

abby fell back against her bed sheets, calloused hands pushing her cargos down to her ankles as she replayed the sight of you in her mind. bent over - she felt like you were trying to tempt her on purpose.

she felt like a heathen; staring, fantasizing, worshipping. her mind was bursting with the idea of every possible position she could put you in; head a chorus of every little noise she wanted to hear you make; eyes screwed shut as depravity filled her every sense.

she shoved her bralette up her chest roughly, fingertips dragging over her nipples with little mercy. she pinched them, the peach skin stinging underneath her touch.

she wanted it to hurt; wanted it to feel like some sort of punishment for her thoughts. but as her hips bucked into the air, a long whine dragging from her clenched jaw, she realised it needed to hurt more.

she imagined you, finding her like this. disgust burnt into your features - what the fuck was she doing? repeating your name like some subverted prayer, fingers harshly scratching along her stomach as she tried to make the pleasure feel more like pain, trying to induce some connection between the two.

if it hurt enough, would she stop? force herself to forget? could she torture this part of herself until it surrendered?

her hand slipped over the top of her boxers, a finger running tentatively over her clit through the now darkened fabric. she bit down on her lip, groaning against it as she pushed down harder and harder, attempting to break through the skin.

another finger pressed down, beginning to draw circles down on the throbbing bud. she jolted against her own touch, your head between her legs burning into her mind. your hands, trailing along her flesh - groping at her with little tenderness; tongue, swiping at her pussy with no intent of fulfillment: she wanted you to make her weep, smoke out her lungs with shame, deny her from gratification until all she could feel was regret.

she pulled away, only to cover her fingertips with her spit - diving under her boxers to continue with her corruption. abby let out a strangled sigh, hips grinding against her fingers as they toyed with her clit.

she moved a hand to her hair, knuckles stretching against her scalp as she began to pull her braid. she grunted, yanking even harder. she whispered your name: pained, hopeless.

she sped up her assault against her pussy, feeling that pit in the bottom of her stomach begin to grow. “pleasepleaseplease” her voice cracked as she begged, unsure what she was pleading for.

she wanted to stop, but she needed to try and make this feeling go away. she knew it would come back, it always did - but even five minutes free from your torment on her mind might save her.

her fingers kept going, drawing desperate circles against her weeping pussy relentlessly. the void was growing, almost consuming her entirely at this point. she thought of you laughing at her current state: a crying mess, pussy wet with perversion.

it was sick, really - how the idea of you hating her for this made her need even worse. you’d probably think it appalling: someone who was supposed to be your friend, now sat here burning at the thought of you.

a part of her wished that you shared this sickness. that you too let yourself be overwhelmed by the thought of sin. maybe you didn’t let the guilt swallow you whole - she hoped so.

but there was no point lingering in the what-ifs, they were far too fleeting.

her deft fingers quickened their pace, the ache all consuming. the climb began - a desperate jump towards oblivion. closer, closer. the flames scorched her bedsheets as her breathing hastened.

fuck, she hissed before reaching the apex with a scream of your name. a scream? a whisper? a thought? it didn’t make her actions any less deplorable.

her conscience grabbed pleasure by the throat as she ripped her fingers away, putting out the blaze on her hips like a cigarette crushed on the ground.

the desire imploded within the walls of her torso; scratching against her insides in the vengeance of her denial.

it was wrong; she had to stop it. yet still, the guilt poured into her lungs with no chance of resolve. she was a fool for thinking it would fix her. maybe next time it would work. maybe next time the exorcism would finally purify her.

until next time.

[comfortless]

The way you write König makes me cry and dry heave cuz you balance his loser unhingeness and his heartbreaking tenderness is✨ ART✨

Now I feel like you would be able to EAT this prompt up but imagine König as Frankenstein’s creature that is this big ass hulking mass of body that immediately makes the town grab their pitchforks but he can DESTROY them in seconds. But inside he is just a little guy who just wants somebody to hold and love (and other activities if ya know what I mean

Keep doing what you do❤️

A Place For Us

Frankenstein’s creature! König x fem! horologist reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. discrepancies!, reader is implied to have anxiety, angst & fluff, non-malicious stalking?, loner/loner dynamic my beloved.., brief mentions of previous murders and religious imagery, codependency, smut; masturbation, unprotected piv.

notes: receiving this ask was so funny to me because @melancholic-thing and i have been bouncing this idea around forever (i simply could not have brought this any justice without ghost’s input— if you see this please know that ily dearly). thank you, anon for your kind words and finally giving me the push that i needed to write it! 💘

wc: 10.6k

You’re good at fixing broken things; tinkering with them with a set of well-polished tools until they begin to tick, or chime, or cuckoo.

Some take longer than an afternoon sat before the wooden desk, weeks or months— a year, once. Oiled parts and small cogs, the three arms that jerk and glide over a face riddled with numbers that all lull you into feeling that your work is not just some monotonous service only the rich buzzards could afford, but as if you were a healer of sorts; a little cleric stationed to bring life into whichever jagged, broken thing has been dropped or kicked at her doorstep.

This one, however… you’re convinced it’s as good as dead.

No matter how many times you take apart the little, gray pocket watch, the arms refuse to move. Its ticking sounds less like that of the beating of the heart and more like the grinding of dry teeth, a corpse begging, pleading to let this attempted resurrection come to an end.

Your tweezers wrench the face free, and all at once it proves too much— bending and warping beneath the metal grip until it cracks, a split right through it, down to its very center.

“How…” Your voice fills the void of ticking, pseudo-silence surrounding you. A word slipped out in frustration and unknowing before you finally toss the wretched little thing onto the desk with a clatter and step aside.

The house is as dark and brooding as always, too large for a woman on her own and a workshop that hardly counts as a proper business. Shelves of broken clocks serve as decor where potted plants and well-loved photographs should sit in their stead. Books of study for modern devices such as these in place of the poetry and worn love letters other women seemed to have in abundance.

This place was starved out of light, even with the flickering glow of candles and the electric humming of the unnatural yellow one above.

The sun is no stranger, either, your curtains neatly pulled aside to allow for it to filter through like an invited guest. Only it doesn’t, not on such a melancholic gray day.

You need a walk, a distraction, or this hungry home would be certain to rip away your work from the shelves and swallow you whole instead.

Isn’t it such a tragedy that, someone who pours her creativity and all of her love into time, all she seems to do is waste it?, the gaudy wallpaper seems to taunt, all the colors of filthy maroon and darkened blue flowers seeming to make it feel more imposing and less of a comfort.

Your hand curls around the handle of your umbrella, a sturdy thing, but just as drab as the rest of the home. Then, the package you’ve been putting off delivering to the elderly woman in town. Best to get it done with now, maybe upon your return the hands that fix could do so once again.

Shame about the clock face though. You would certainly have to patch together another and pray the pocket watch’s owner wouldn’t notice.

The wind is not what you had anticipated.

Outside is different. The howling of it past the windows and shuddering through the attic felt perfectly at home in your shoddy little house, but as the door swings shut behind you, it feels entirely alive. Cold and bitter and angry— the things you keep repressed that nature lacks the tact to.

The trees bend and sway from its invisible yet incessant pushing. The hand containing the package falls down to the lap of your skirt to keep it from flying up just as your other clutches the umbrella ever tighter to keep it from billowing out into the air to be left discarded miles away.

It isn’t a short walk to town, but with the wind and the drizzling rain, it almost seems as though you’re in more tender company than the lumber and the ticking clocks.

The path through the forest is overgrown as always, branches are pushed aside and your skirt is lifted to avoid burrs and thorns.

You should have had the sense to bring along a coat, because when the thunder does strike up and the rain finally begins to fall in heavy, hurried drops, you find yourself shivering terribly with the package guarded against your chest.

Lamplight would have done well, too.

You would have almost happily allowed yourself to toss aside the umbrella and be battered by the rain if you could only see. The forest is dark on days like this, with the canopy of thick branches and their dense leaves blocking out any sliver of light cast down from overhead.

It’s only by sheer luck that you don’t manage to trip, toss your delivery into the shadow of a tree and lose it entirely before you do make it out. When the trees finally part to the barren hill overlooking town you breathe a sigh of relief, a quiet thanks for the grayed light above.

Your steps are hurried as you make your way through the quiet town. The shop windows are all lit aglow with the silhouettes of people inside, strangely dancing like shadows through a fog. A place you can not be, can not touch.

The stares the townsfolk give you make your skin crawl, as though they are so close to being what you are but not, only tied down to your world when they think themselves lofty. Their eyes always seem to question, scrape under your skin with sharpened arms, ticking and flaying, always asking: Why?

You face forward as your skin begins to prickle, not from the wet or the chill but a subdued sort of fear that nestles burning into your chest, sets your heart rushing like a rabbit.

The streets are silent enough, a small blessing; any passing strangers are hurriedly skittering through the rain and muck to hide away in their homes, children ushered with a hand to their back by flustered looking mothers, complaining in hushed voices about the rain. You only smile at them and step aside when your paths cross.

They never smile for you.

It’s why the broken clocks are delivered to your doorstep rather than brought inside, addresses and names from muffled voices calling out beyond your thick wooden door, coins and bills pushed through the mail slot to lie cold on the welcome mat. The bell above the door never chimes, and you only make your deliveries on days like this, when the rain or the dark blanket you up to keep you safe and eternally somber.

You leave the package on the doorstep, covered from the rain by a small, vermillion awning. One sharp knock is given and you’re back on your way, back to the old house, to the simplicity of the ticking, the comfort of the old cobweb on the vaulted ceiling and the drab gray of the bleakness.

There are puddles now, glistening with any light they can suck into their depths, threatening and taunting as the dull stares and that rickety old desk you really should fix. You think for a moment, that perhaps no one would even notice if one of those dark pits of rain water pulled you in entirely, only to splash through it with ease, dirtying the ends of your skirt.

The rain lessens when you crest the hill, the forest less a tangle of clattering limbs and now only a gentle sway reaches the tops of the trees, light filtering through them, as if to guide you on your way. It doesn’t lessen the bushels of thorns, the tree limbs downed and scattered over the path. In some small blessing, you’re able to scramble over them without having to plan a visit to a tailor to repair a ripped gown; scrubbing the mud from it would surely be tedious enough.

The droplets splatter against the dirt and fallen leaves in hushed bursts, the forest alive as always with the cooing of nesting birds in spite of the rain. The only thing that seems out of place is a sudden, soft thud, the snap of a branch underfoot. Just one footfall, and things return to a placid state amidst the sky’s tears.

You raise your head to glimpse in the direction, gaze sweeping over the figure of a man some paces off to your left. Beneath the shadow of a broad, twisting pine layered in thick branches, his details are mostly obscured, a thin trail of silver light only casting aglow the glimpse of a blue eye.

He’s only large enough to notice, shoulders slumped and chest rapidly rising to fall like a frightened animal; as his silhouette shifts just so you even consider that he’s shivering.

There’s something in that stare of somber blue that splinters at the wall of discomfort; it is not accusing, not bitter, worn and cold. Curious. Something akin to your own.

Damn your sweetness, your inability to simply let things be even as that ache twists around in your chest, clawing at a cage of bone and hissing that you keep silent. Be on your way. Don’t look back.

Instead, you extend your umbrella outward, toward him.

“Awful rain, hm?,” you chime.

The figure visibly tenses, seems to shrink into himself for a moment before straightening and giving one solemn nod.

“You can take my umbrella. I’m almost home, anyway.”

That seems to spark something, not much, but the stranger does take a step forward. Your eyes catch on the wet, matted hair clinging to his head, cascading down to shroud a face you still can’t quite make out.

The poor thing stirs something in you, a deep sympathy that clouds even the judgment of that flighty, skittish thing resting deep inside.

Even from such a distance it’s clear that he’s been neglected, likely cast off by the town even less favorably than you have. His scent carries on the breeze, like dirt and wood and misery.

You extend the umbrella again before realizing he won’t come any closer with you being there. So, you lower it to the ground, avoiding the mud as best you could and leave it. If he took it, fine. If not, you travel this path so often it would be collected in time.

The figure mutters something as you rise, a low string of foreign words that you can only interpret as being spoken out of surprise, perhaps even gratitude.

You smile toward him as you wipe fat, slithering raindrops from your brow.

“You don’t want to catch a fever.”

With that, you’re back on your way, thoughts of the rugged stranger weigh heavy on your mind as the roof of your home comes into view, stilted and in the same drab navy as the flowers on the wallpaper.

You could have done more. It had been instilled into you to not to open the door for someone you did not quite know, yet a part of you longed to take care of something not simply fed by oil, something only capable of telling you how much time you’ve sat alone as thanks.

Surely it was best not to let it distract you.

This was good enough.

The key is produced, the door opened, and just like the many times before that you have forced yourself from this place, the house seems less unsettling upon your return.

As what little daylight remains fades away into night, you find yourself seated, toying with the old pocket watch once more. It’s the only one that doesn’t make a lick of sense, a puzzle that can not be solved. For all the polished parts and meticulous tinkering, it still won’t work properly.

It grates and growls as though rusted, the cogs shifting inside with each movement of the arms are well-polished yet seem to do little but hiss and spit.

This is the fourth time you have taken it apart only to put it back together with no improvement.

There was little to be known about the man who owned it, some pompous, arrogant creature that you had only seen in passing. He had turned his nose up to you, you were sure of that, only to deliver this dying thing to your door the following day.

Your work had always been compared to your father’s. Though you possessed a similarity in skill, you were not what the townsfolk had deemed to be respectable. An unwed lady out on her own, biding her time repairing what they had broken rather than feeding hungry mouths delivered from her very womb, how terribly scandalous.

The pocket watch is set aside as you busy yourself tailoring a small sheet of metal for it. The graduations are carved in with a sharp razor, impeccably angled. Then, the Roman numerals, just before it’s slotted back into place.

The likeness to the former face is nearly uncanny, it’s only sturdier and less susceptible to ripping from the mere touch of tweezers. The rust s gone from the casing, and at long last— it ticks; no grinding growl as the second hand begins its revolution. The fickle thing just needed a touch up, you supposed as you flick off the desk lamp and rise to your feet.

The curtains are drawn as they always were when you step into the bedroom. The muddy dress is finally peeled away as you change and slink into the covers, and just for a moment, you almost think that you feel the animal between your breasts begin to settle too.

———

There’s a letter stuffed into the mail slot: crumpled with no postage stamp, scrawled across some scrap of paper that surely was plucked from a garbage bin.

You marvel at the lack of care for a moment before your fingers do find themselves pawing at it, unfurling the worn edges to find the words: Thank you.

Written in thick black ink, there’s a clumsiness to it, the dance of a quivering hand holding pen. You think back to the elderly woman you had made that delivery to only yesterday; had she trudged through the mud and muck just to bring you this?

Her thanks was only needed in the blessing of payment, and she had already generously done just that when she left her little humming wall clock at the door.

You flip the note over, inspecting it carefully. There’s a line there, too, hastily scratched out in the same black ink, the lines crossing and digging leaving little pinprick holes in the paper.

Holding it to the light, you can just barely make out the words: I have been alone.

Your mouth dries at the sentiment, tongue flicking out to try and force a wetness to your lips. The animal begins its keening howl, a chain rattling as claws sink into your innards; the very same agitated fear that starved you out of comfort day in and out.

The man in the forest, perhaps. You were sure that you would have remembered seeing someone so disheveled and tall about town, and if not for a certainty that he had not followed you home, you would have assumed it was him. Gratitude finally said, and well on his way to someplace else.

There’s nothing here for him or anyone else, surely he could see that. Even you could.

The walls around you seem to bulge, the room shrinking once again as every little thing held within begins to taunt and yowl. Safety was only a temporary luxury, it always has been.

The letter is discarded onto a table, as you opt to hazard a peek out of your curtains instead. The gray from yesterday remains as thick clouds crowd above, threatening another storm. The treetops and tall grass dance in the breeze, freeing leaves and breaking flower stems. There’s no one standing there to greet you, to explain themselves for the strange message that they had left.

The town had probably already driven you to madness, picturing things that were not there while old fools jab you with ominous letters and jeering stares to see just how long it would take to watch you fall apart.

Another delivery day it would be, then; best to get it out of the way before the rain begins to fall.

Maybe you could even retrieve the umbrella along the path, discarded, battered from the rain and likely unused.

You don’t bother packaging the pocket watch, choosing to hastily stuff it into the pocket of your coat instead. Courtesies be damned. Tea and a warm bath would do well when the house was sated by your absence, when you were finally given time to breathe.

In your haste, you nearly kick over what’s been left on the uppermost stair leading to your door.

You find a table clock covered in a thick black fabric, a little note attached to it giving the owner’s name and address, and a small bag containing payment.

It’s all securely placed inside, next to the ugly letter on the table.

Your umbrella doesn’t wait on the path, but you’ve hardly the mind to care. Your hand tightens around the pocket watch as you cord your way down the path and back into town, rushing amidst the foliage until the sounds of your footfalls are dulled by the street.

Reaching the house, a towering narrow building that smells like tobacco even from outside, your hand curls to knock at the door in the same breath taken as the chain is plucked to place it on the knob, intent on scurrying away immediately to avoid the disgusted gaze of the man that waits inside.

You don’t quite make it far enough before the door swings open and you’re greeted by a round face, nose upturned and lip curled into a sneer.

That isn’t imagination.

There’s a genuine hate in this man, seeping down into his bones that makes him almost seem to reek like sulfur through the cloud of cigarette smoke that wafts around him. It’s the face of someone who would love nothing more than to see your own damnation, watch the earth suck you in until your wails fall silent and a fire roars upward in your wake.

“This isn’t my watch, dear.”

“Parts needed to be replaced,” you explain, voice tight and keening like a wolf in a trap, “I assure you that I—“

“It’s shoddy work. Any clocksmith up north would have done better for half the price..”

It goes on like this for what feels like at minimum thirty revolutions, but it must have only been five or so. His droning voice makes it hard to keep track, buzzing as he examines your work, hours wasted upon aiding such an awful creature.

He only seems to grow bored of his chiding when you fall to silence. He wants a reaction, not a wide-eyed fretful stare and pursed lips caging in any sound that may bubble up from your throat.

In one final act of detestation, the watch is tossed to the ground, stomped in repetition until the hands snap, the ticking quiets, and you see months of your work brought to ruin in a mere seven seconds.

He storms back inside and slams the door shut as you stoop to collect the little, broken thing, cradling it in your palms. Maybe it wouldn’t be fixed again, but you’ve hardly the mind to let anything be left abandoned like this.

Though the anger builds, white bitter smoke billowing through your veins, it remains tucked away inside eventually communing with the animal, all but entirely snuffed out when your steps lead you to the front door of the house.

The window to the right is open, not broken. The curtains were pushed aside as though to allow a breeze to enter. A muddy footprint, vast and long scales the siding, but there’s no exiting one to join it.

You stare and listen, taking one quiet step towards the open window to strain your hearing. Nothing. Inside, it’s quiet, only the sound of the breeze rattling that note left on the table, the ticking and the familiar creaks and groans of the house settling.

So, you enter.

With the poker from the hearth in tow, the rooms are investigated one by one. Each and every one of them clear of any intruder. Even the attic, for all of it’s imagined ghosts sits empty, stale and silent. There’s no one here, nothing out of place or broken that hadn’t already been cast out from the world and delivered into your hands.

Strangely enough, it’s more peaceful like this; the leaves could be heard rustling outside, birds calling, even the chirps and strumming of crickets too late to flee the onset of chill seeping through this purgatory, filling the mundane void with sounds of life and peace.

You leave the window open.

The pocket watch is left on the desk, the kettle filled with water and placed upon the stove to heat, all before your eyes trail over to that little table beside the front door.

The only thing amiss is there, your intuition roars at you: “Look, look. Just look.”

The table clock from this morning sits there, the wood casing dusty and the hands perpetually stuck to sit at six o’clock, easy to enough to break, and easier still to fix. An overworked battery and a little oil would be its saving grace; if only things could be so simple for yourself, for the thousand or so others that surely must feel the same— clawed, fretful little rabbits.

Your eyes narrow momentarily, vaguely recalling that the damned thing had been covered when it was dragged inside. Something sable and thick, a scrap of a heavy dress shirt perhaps, verily stained. Odd that someone would have broken in merely to steal something so useless, but stranger tales have been told. For all you cared, the perpetrator could keep it.

You entertain the idea of the wild man in the trees, thick and sturdy as one. Perhaps he left the note, stole warmth from your home and found comfort in that useless old shirt after leaving that roughly scrawled note. Though the idea would horrify others, it only sets your ceaselessly racing pulse at ease.

Toying with the idea that someone so very much like you lurks the hills, found a home in your eyes and paid a visit, kind enough to wait until you were in town as to not scare you… and the kettle begins to whistle.

———

You had forgotten to close the window last night. Or maybe it was left as an invitation, a silent offer of your companionship for the unknown thing that occupies your already haunted mind these days. Something in your subconscious dared you to simply forget, see what happens, and you’re not entirely disappointed to find out that yes, something has happened.

There are three flowers laid out there in a row, smushed by the weight of a heavy palm: a daffodil left golden and proud despite the way her petals fray and wither, and two others wild and unnamed with blue and white colors leading to vibrant green stems. And roots. He hadn’t the time to pluck them proper, nor had a sense of gentleness to his touch in doing so.

It’s the first time you’ve laughed in months, a giggling that makes your chest ache from a sudden mirth through all of this wretchedness. Who knew it would only take three flowers and the appearance of someone so disconnected? You take them and place them in a vase in the same spot, careful to add just the right amount of water to keep them living for a time.

Someone brought you flowers— actually brought you a gift, not a job. You remember those eyes, too. His hands may not have been gentle, but that look was.

Though darkness still creeps internally, you’re resolute in what you must do when you prepare for the day. You’ve never really worn this dress— a soft, white thing with billowing sleeves and tight cuffs that brings a swell to your breasts and cinches your waist. One of the women about town had given it to you in lieu of payment for repairing her husband's watch, left a note prattling onward for three pages about how a woman should dress to find a man. Three!

You’ll find him, thank him for the flowers, bat your eyelashes just a little and retrieve your umbrella. That’s all. The rain would be back, more deliveries would have to be made, and if you could manage a friend from all of this well… surely things could work out for you, just this once.

Your steps are less hurried and more tentative this time around. You don’t barrel through the woods like a galloping mare, mindful of your dress as you lift the fabric at the hips to avoid thick, slickened mire. There isn’t much to do about the thorns nipping at your ankles, leaving little scratches like cat’s claws in their wake.

The thought that maybe this was a ridiculous idea only settles in your mind after an hour of searching. You don’t even have a name to call him by, not an idea on just where he may be or what his intentions truly were, all further punctuated by the fact that you’ve found yourself in the midst of a wild orchard, the yellowing grass nearly reaching your knees as you reluctantly allow your dress to flow free. Thick clusters of apples hang above your head, each nearly ripe, some even fallen to leave a fragrant sweet smell in the wake of their rot.

Thunder roars above, distant but loud, cruelly threatening the wake of a downpour that would so easily sully the delicate thing you wear. Your chest aches from exertion, from whichever horrid fear it's settled on today, and you’re nearly fully convinced of your own madness when something does finally catch your eye.

There’s a cabin, nestled between the trees, old and lacking glass panes for the windows. The roof is covered in moss, walls creeping with the old green of vines and nearly hidden away entirely by the tall grass that rises above its face.

You could wait out the storm in the dark there, rethink your steps until you find a way back home and the prospect of actually entering a building that wasn’t the very picture of your own agony stirs something within you.

You don’t bother to knock, only waltz right in and let the door shut softly behind you. It creaks as it goes, whining from the rust laden over its hinges. As expected, the cabin is mostly barren; a set of dust laden chairs sits on opposite ends of a table missing a leg, a large bookshelf housing only a torn copy of Paradise Lost and a journal, a few dirtied dishes are left on the floor, and in the corner…

There are a lot of things that make you feel small.

You couldn’t live up to your father’s name in town. The thought that you were not an equal to the other ladies with their fine jewelry and dresses, rings wrapped around their fingers, that was a sore spot despite the way you refused to admit to it. Even the hounds lurking about the butcher’s shop on lonely night deliveries, baying and growling when your feet carried you too close.

None of those things could even compare to how you felt now.

The rug he lies beneath is large on its own, but your flower-giving, grateful titan seems even more so. It’s as though walking into a bear’s den and expecting a mere squirrel. Even curled into himself in sleep, he seems impossibly huge.

You couldn’t see much of him that first night, but now… where the rags that make up his clothes reveal a series of long scars along his legs, the hairy arms that seem far too thick: all of him, all of him is massive.

Your rabbit heart does not claw or fight you now, it only flutters, placated by the sight of something so… was there really a word for it? The idea that someone so imposing could strike the match of attraction within you. Feelings were strange, each comes sharp and new like the deliberate twist of a knife through a body, soft like warm bread.

You smile as you wander to his side, recognizing the cloth he wears over his head immediately as the one stolen from your house. Your dress is smoothed at your rear as you lower yourself to sit on your knees at his side, quiet and slow.

“Hello,” you whisper, placing a hand on a shoulder that dwarfs it entirely, feeling the bulge of muscle beneath the ripped shirt, the ridge of keloid scars from deep cuts laid into his skin.

The titan’s eyelids flutter for a moment as he begins to stir, staring up at the ceiling, teetering on the edge between waking and dreaming. Then, those cold blue eyes lock onto you. A flash of disbelief crosses them, just for a moment before something flips and from the holes ripped into that makeshift hood you see an expression that seems almost agonized.

“Hello,” he rasps after a long moment, shifting onto his side to prop himself up and raise his head to level with your own.

His breathing is shallow, almost panicked and you finally think to bring your hands to your lap instead, avoid touching him and potentially startling the poor man further.

“I wanted to thank you… for the flowers. They’re beautiful.” You pause as you study what little of his expression you can make out through the mask, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners only giving a glimpse of a smile. All teeth, probably, an excited one that even the imagination of warms your heart. “I put them in a vase. I didn’t want them to die.”

“I should not have…” His voice is softer than you ever imagined that it could be, well-spoken as the words are pulled from his throat. You find yourself transfixed, almost, praying that he continues if only to hear the delicate strumming of his tone, the soft sigh of breath that leaves him afterward.

“Es tut mir leid.”

The apology is followed by a low sweep of his gaze, slowly crawling from the peek of your cleavage to your hips to rest where your hands lay clasped in your lap.

He hardly seems to know what to do with himself, what to say, and all at once the realization dawns on you that no, he isn’t merely paying his thanks and seeking conversation. Perhaps that was part of it then, but now… he seems almost entranced.

You recognize those looks, from men in passing when they leered, but from him… from this weary, haunted stranger. It only seems a silent sort of reverence; as though longing for something he’s been deprived of.

“No, it’s fine, it made me happy.”

“Happy?”

“Yes, it was sweet.”

He falls silent at that, conflicted if the pinch of his brow were anything to go by. Then, sudden, he takes your wrist and jerks your hand toward his face, thumb brushing over the small calluses over each pad of your fingers. There’s dirt beneath his fingernails, even more scaring along those massive hands and you shiver. It’s not fear it’s… something akin to it, opposite by the way it dances and writhes in warmth rather than the cold.

“You have the hands of a maker.”

Strange, sweet Goliath.

His words are spoken somberly, as if there is more to say that he holds back. A part of you warns that you’re not prepared for it anyhow, so you let him continue that motion, brushing over your palm with a featherlight touch until it begins to tickle.

Your giggle prompts him to raise his head, watery eyes threatening tears when he hears that sweet sound bubble up from within you. His hand curls over your own, trapping you in his grasp as though little else matters to him more than the need to touch you in some way.

“You have kind eyes.”

“I am not kind.”

You shake your head at that, flicking your thumb across the top of his burly hand, marveling at the smooth skin of his scars and the rough texture of the hair that dots his knuckles.

“You’re sweet to me, and that’s all that matters.”

It could have been a mistake, how easily you’ve taken to this bizarre titan. Any lady with proper regard for her standing and womanhood assuredly wouldn’t have said something like that to a beast that has the stature and the scent of something wild.

Still, the words leave your lips far too quickly to draw back; he responds with an urgency.

You find yourself pulled ever closer by the iron grip on your hand, tugged into the rug-turned-mattress by this man as he cages you in to meld against his chest. He’s everywhere, warm and burning against the chill of your skin with flesh touched by hellfire.

You only sigh pitifully when his arm wraps around your waist. When was the last time you had even felt an embrace? You couldn’t recall, and even if you had, it would have paled in comparison to one such as this. You breathe him in like a summer’s breeze, tasting a hint of the apple orchard beyond on your tongue when you open your mouth to speak once again.

“See..?”

The tension in his muscles seems to melt away; if your heart is like a hare then surely his must be more akin to a bull. It takes some time before he softens entirely against you, despite his initiation. His breath is almost a pant when his hand trails upward along your back, feeling every ridge and dip and curve, breath catching in wonder as you allow it.

“You are soft like…”

His head dips to press into your shoulder, breathing you in, humming his approval at the mingling scent of clock oil and tea leaves that lingers on your skin. Even from beneath the hood, you can feel the way his lips brush over you, his mouth parted in a voiceless plea.

“… like one of the flowers.”

It’s almost torture really, how someone could be so comforting, so endearing.

His hand trails further, drifting over the backside of your dress to curl against your thigh threatening something if you don’t conjure the sense to stop him. It stokes the fire within you, glowing ember in place of a brain, it seemed. You feel weak, lost in a foreign touch and sweet, clumsily spoken words.

If the townsfolk could see you now, herded up in this stranger’s arms, surely they wouldn’t dare to cast any disapproval your way. Not one of those meek little devils would have a word to say… not now or ever again.

“You’re like… a tree then,” you whisper as you finally will yourself to twist away from the grip, already mourning the loss of warmth as a cold wind filters through the openings in the cabin.

He doesn’t sulk as you pull away, only seems content to have been blessed with that much. That mist remains in his eyes before they shut again, willing himself to rise to sit up just as you do.

“Will you stay?”

You glance over the cabin again, with all of its dust and cobwebs. Your umbrella sits in the corner, propped upright with its handle leant against the wall, out of place amidst the dilapidation prevalent here.

This wasn’t a home at all, just a quiet, cold purgatory. Though the halls of your own may mock your solitude, this place seems to echo his very being: alone, broken, rotting and so, so very cold.

Your heart bleeds as you weigh your options, expression growing sullen and torn. He notices, tentatively takes your hand again in an almost practiced way of providing comfort. Had he ever even…

Your thoughts begin to drift again, and you force yourself to settle on a choice. It’s not your heart that should be damned, but that horrid seed of doubt constantly burdening, stealing from, and clawing at you.

“I should get home, before the rain.”

“Verstanden.”

“You can come too.”

There’s an audible hiss of breath through his teeth, that peculiar look of agony crosses his face again… and finally, he weeps.

———

König, you think to call him.

He teaches you German from time to time, in turn for you allowing him to watch as you work away at the clocks. It feels fitting in a way. Not because he harbors the self-importance of a noble figure, nor his stature; he’s simply become something impossibly important in the week long span you’ve spent together now.

You’ve decorated the guest room properly for him, and in turn he’s brought you firewood, foraged and hunted so that neither of you have had to bother with the town. The fire raged in the hearth as the cold continues to set in, and your walks to town have been enjoyable now. He accompanies you to the hill on some nights, draws you a bath when you come home, even cooks.

So… maybe a king was not entirely appropriate, but calling him a servant certainly wasn’t either. Even with the way he seems to melt and become docile at the slightest brush of your hand, the way you know with a certainty he would die for you if you spoke the word.

And still, you call him König: the king of your heart.

There are flowers at your windowsill each morning, still clinging to their roots. You bake the bread while he cooks stew with herbs gathered from the little garden just beyond the walls of the home, one he’s graciously told you he’s wanted to expand for you. Books you’ve overlooked for years have been read end to end by him, and he especially seems to like those with art of flowers drawn into their pages, always seeking you out to show you, explain their meanings, expressing the beauty that he sees in them and within you.

You don’t know where he’s come from, what his life was like before this, and with the same respect that he gives to you… you don’t ask.

“We’re starting a new story,” you had said the first morning over a breakfast of hastily made apple dumplings. To which he had agreed, with a somber hum, nodding his hooded head.

Though you do wonder about his secrets, his face. Seeing him now is all it really takes to make you smile.

He comes through the door, hauling in the massive grandfather clock that a carriage had left only this morning. The bob and the lyre both appeared broken at a glance, but your heart sinks when you read the name on the note left attached to it.

The same petulant little man that had stomped that poor watch to pieces right in front of you, no doubt he had broken this one too in some sort of tantrum. What was it now? Had the poor clock chimes a bit too loudly during the night? Was that deserving of a foot lodged right into its heart?

“König, do you mind just leaving it there?” You gesture toward the middle of the room, watching as the muscles beneath his shirt don’t even seem to ripple from exertion.

“Natürlich.”

As you set to work, pulling away parts, straightening out bends and replacing what’s broken, he kneels at your side watching with rapt attention. There’s no fixing the pendulum bob entirely, it’s far too bent and scraped, but you wouldn’t be replacing that with work of your own either. The bastard gets what he gets and that will do.

In truth, your work since having König here has only improved, and perhaps you’re showing off a bit, but the way he watches you tinker with the dusty old things as if mesmerized fills you with pride. You could fix anything, yes, with him at your side you wanted to.

The house doesn’t echo wasted time anymore, only that crowding feeling of something buzzing and chirping, budding up in the spaces where shadows should crawl: love. You wouldn’t trade it for the loneliness to return, not ever. A new sort of fear that stings just as much as it does caress.

So you work in silence, only breaking it to answer the sparse questions that he throws out.

When the clock is shoddily finished, you wipe the oil from your hands on a rag, and take König’s own large arm as it’s offered out to you to stand.

“I will carry it for you tonight,” he suggests, delicately brushing a bit of dust from your sleeve. His touch does linger, always lingers, trailing up to massage at your shoulder and cup at your neck. The swell of heat that arrives at your face then, the press of your thighs beneath your skirt… it’s always the same.

“I thought that you didn’t want to go into town?”

Your shoulder meets his chest as you press against him, doing very little to calm your body’s frustrations. The blood within you stirs like a violent wave feeling him this near— cleaned up and dressed in some patchwork conglomerate of your father’s old clothes. He smells like a union between the earth and sea, salt and alder leaf, a hint of thyme and lavender.

His eyes glitter when his gaze roves from your face to chest, hand skittering down to curl at the small of your back. To anyone else, you would look the picture of husband and wife perhaps.

“I would go anywhere with you.”

A fresh normal, like the rise of spring, those words and touches that suggest more: threatening while you plead in silence for him to just give you a push, unlace your dress and finally feel and see him properly.

“Then… yes, let’s get the cursed thing out of here tonight.”

His grip tightens around you just for a moment, fingers curling and flexing into the soft linen covering you, bunching it up just so at your back before he relents, draws away.

“You dislike this one?” König sounds almost hurt, perhaps he favored it, being tall and similar to him in some way. Another odd thing, hard to place, but he’s never seemed to like you talking down about your own work, a habit that needed breaking.

“No,” you begin to explain, curling your arms around his middle as you both stare at the thing, ticking quietly before you, “its owner is just a pain.”

“I can tell. You seem nervous, meine geliebte.”

“You haven’t taught me that one yet,” you point out, not playing coy, despite the look he gives you that suggests you know.

There’s always that ache when his eyes narrow and that playful glint reaches them. How someone could look as though they’ve suffered dozens of lifetimes of pain and still have that look, you did not know, but it excites you. A furious, needy excitement.

“Beloved,” is all that he says.

The stare relents as he heads back out into the garden, leaving you to sort yourself out.

———

“You’re sure that you can carry it the entire way?”

It’s not that you could help, really. The thing must have weighed as much as yourself, strung up over König’s back with a rope he had found lying someplace in the garden.

“Ja, it’s fine.” He’s not out of breath in the slightest either. You realize then that if you put on all your charms bending, arching and delicately maneuvering your hands to fix the clocks, the assuredly this was his way of doing the same. You try to reign yourself in from staring at the damp spot on his shirt, clinging to his broad expanse of chest, the way that his thighs seem to tense with each step forward.

You can’t— you merely trail behind him until you take the lead to bring him right to the other man’s doorstep. Your hands find the ropes that keep the clock saddled to König’s back, carefully untying them as he stoops down to let its wooden legs rest against the ground below. It scrapes, the consequence of being so heavy and forced to stand on those four tiny legs, and only then does it decide to make a cacophony of noise signaling the new hour, a trilling sort of bong that makes even your ears ring as it breaks up the silence of the night.

You don’t even need to knock, because the door flies open immediately. The man stands proud, unperturbed by your giant companion as he shoves past you to inspect his clock. There are no greetings, no pleasantries, and if you were just a bit more careless with your reputation, smacking him would have only brought you satisfaction.

“Not good, but it will do,” the little man huffs, knocking at the glass casing over the clock’s face with his knuckle. “Be a dear and have your friend bring it in for me.”

You’ve no doubt that König senses your annoyance as he cocks his head at you, but when you give a curt nod in response, he does what’s requested. The clock is set in a large den. It’s not as opulent and gilded as you had expected, just a simple home housing a very infuriating man. You watch from the doorway, swaying on your feet as König rights the clock and pushes it where he’s directed. Just a few more seconds and the two of you would be well on your way, and perhaps he would even teach you a new curse for a man like that.

He comes uncomfortably close to König’s side, a smug look plastered over his face that only seems to exaggerate just how greasy and mousy that you know him to be. Something is whispered that you can’t quite make out, a dare, a mocking taunt, something that pisses you off even without the knowledge.

The hood is pulled off by thin fingers, cast aside to the floor beyond the pair.

The man’s face goes pale before you even get a glimpse of König at all. He backs away, mouth gaping as König calmly moves to retrieve the cloth. You think you hear the word “monster” mumbled amidst a slew of incoherent babbling, but when your companion turns to face you, you feel no fear.

König’s face is like patchwork, scars connecting all together. They run like small streams up from his jaw and over his chin, splitting his lip at the corner of his mouth and dancing up to his eye. The nose is broken in places, several times over likely, crooked with a bump that only seems strangely cute. The unkempt hair lining his jaw should be trimmed, but… there’s no monster here. Only a man who has seen and felt pains that you could not bring yourself to imagine.

His head dips when he notices your wide-eyes stare, a sort of shame hidden away behind strands of long, black hair. He shuffles out of the house and shuts the door behind him, standing rigid as he expects the worst, for you to wail and sob and gather a group of townsfolk to herd him far away with fire and stones.

You only take his hand.

“Let’s go home.”

He doesn’t bother to hide himself away again during the walk back, his hand remains in your hold, trembling every now and then and gripping you tighter as he struggles with the thoughts no doubt raging in his skull like a storm. You offer your comfort as you lean toward him, head pressed against his arm even as you turn the knob and step inside.

You warm a bath for him then, a task that is no easy feat. König does not offer his help, resigned to some belief that this is only a temporary pity.

He allows you to peel away his clothes, graze your fingers over his body, over the scars all with a barely contained creature scraping out from inside: the untamed bull that you can not see. You press a kiss there, over his heart, feel it’s beating against your lips, pulling away only when his thumb strokes your cheek.

Each new sight of him is just as wonderful as they have always been. It’s not that you take pleasure in seeing the way he must have suffered; the now healed bullet wound over his abdomen speaks volumes of just what people are capable of when met with the sight of something that they do not understand.

The questions burn at the back of your skull, bitten back as your jaw tightens.

You help him wash with soap and a soft cloth, carefully removing any patches of dirt and dust that have lingered despite his near-daily bathing since living beneath your roof. The rough beard is trimmed in full, until all that’s left is a trail of dark stubble lingering along his jaw, broken up by scars like thin spider silk that make up the entirety of his body.

His hair is a mess, too, matted and clinging to his skull in wild clumps. You’re gentle with the brush as you free the tangles, clipping at what can not be saved with sharpened scissors, and massaging at his scalp as he murmurs his approval. It’s such a subdued, gentle cooing from his chest, a purr almost that shatters your heart and forces it back into place instantly.

Whatever he was or was not, you were certain this stray had never felt a touch like your own, if he had ever been touched by human hands at all.

König seems to settle greatly once you’ve tended to him and it does seem to finally dawn on him that you’re not repulsed, you’ve touched most of his damaged body, and have only brought him the gentleness that should have been commonplace by now. This isn’t some elaborate torture method— it’s only tender.

“Your turn, hm?”

That, however, brings you pause. Your hands rest on his shoulder, carefully trying to loosen a stubborn knot when you abruptly still. As if that were all he needed for encouragement, his hands cinch your waist, pulling you up and over the rim of the tub as you whine your protests in hushed little hisses. All for naught, as you find yourself submerged below the waist.

“I’m still dressed,” you sulk as the water dampens your dress, now seated between his parted thighs.

König only gives a laugh in response as his arms encase you in another embrace, his head resting against the dip between your shoulder and neck as his chest is brought to press against your back.

“And you’re still mine.”

His fingers trail further down to the wet fabric billowing amidst the soft, lapping waves of the water, pulling it up until it rests just above your hips. There’s no tact, only a clumsy sort of desperation rarely seen upon men, especially not of his stature.

You allow him to loosen the strands of lace at your back, bring your clothing up and over your head to leave it resting and dripping over the rim, pooling below onto the boards of the wooden floor. Your undergarments follow to join the flooding pile of soaked linen and lace.

You’re flustered certainly, grateful for the water surrounding that conceals the warmth that echoes your fondness for this titan between your legs.

You even considered that he would be more shy, not… as eager to begin to wash you, and not with the cloth but with his own hands, nimbly moving over every dip and curve coating you in the slick residue of soap, leaving suds in its wake. He starts at your shoulders, breath growing heavy the more you soften and relax against his chest.

It’s only a matter of time before his hands find and cup your breasts, and you swear that you can feel the grin that splits his face as you melt further against him. König gropes at and massages you there, eager fingers deliberately stroking at your hardened nipples until you quiver and sigh.

You find purchase moving your arms to your sides to grasp at his biceps, muscles flexing as he works his way down your trembling abdomen to your mound, kissing at your shoulder as you purr your encouragement.

The praises that leave your lips come tight and barely restrained as a finger trails against your slit, moving up to circle your clit before diving back down to prod at you.

Your head is gently tilted back by his free hand, your face peppered in clumsy, messy kisses as a digit sinks into you. It’s lazy work, trying to find a rhythm with your squirming. He only seems satisfied when it presses further, curling against the spot that makes you mewl sweetest, and finally, he kisses you full on.

It’s delivered as sloppily as his fingering, any trailing thought left in your skull dims, fuzzy with sheer bliss as his thumb begins to pet at your clit in tandem with each push and drag of his index. It doesn’t help that you feel his own growing need, hard and hot against your lower back, throbbing with each sound pulled from your mouth, his hips jerking on occasion to drag his shaft against your backside.

“König, we should get out,” you murmur through a flood of heat that curls and urges and presses at your lower half to seek some satisfaction, have him bed you proper. “We can go to—“

His mouth meets yours again, hungrier and more determined than before, the water rolling with each flick of his thumb. In a mere moment you feel that heat stoke to an inferno, blazing from your stomach to cause your feet to kick out, water sloshing over the side of the tub as you ride out each passing wave of paradise crying openly into his mouth.

When your trembling does subside, he kisses your cheek and pulls you up from the water, wrapping you up in his arms. His stare remains ever burning, pupils blown to a coal black, dreamy in the way he slinks back just to drink you in further. You can’t keep track of all of the places his eyes seem to dart, which touch to settle on and relish as he paws at you from chest to rear, as if mesmerized that you are no mere illusion.

You’re giving him everything; no longer the king of simply a beating organ tucked beneath your breast, but your body, bed, wherever he chooses to conquer next, of all the things that he’s been deprived of.

“We will go to bed, beloved,” he rasps, sounding more present than ever. The nightmares lurking behind his eyes have long past now: all focus is turned to you. You’re the only thing that’s ever loved him in return. “We will… become one.”

“Have you ever…” Your own voice fails you now, the evident want between you two incapable of making this any less… tedious. It was tedious, a flighty feathered thing that seems keen on slipping out of your grasp at any moment. If it were to be his first, surely it should be special, somehow, someway. If it were not… you dreaded that thought, a bitter envy sours on your tongue until it’s shaken off.

“No,” he states simply, shrugging.

Though a sense of relief seems to flood you at that, you dare not show it. You will take him to your bed, climb atop him and show him how these things work, a slow sort of love and the rest could wait.

It was foolish to believe that König would settle for such a thing, wild and only temporarily tamed by your sweetness: he is entirely different the moment you’re herded into the bedroom. The desperation of his touches has faded out entirely, replaced with what feels almost like a rage.

He wouldn’t take out humanities sins on you, no, but he would years of brutal neglect have left him starved and it just so happens that you’re an outlet for it, something to feed from by way of spilling his soul and his seed all into you, taken back with the kisses and praises that would surely come after this union.

You’re unceremoniously pushed onto the bed, lying at your side as he climbs in behind you. He whispers his requests into your hair, even as his hand wraps to pull your thigh up before you can bless him with a nod in response. He struggles for a moment, parting your labia with the obscene, ridiculous thing that hangs between his legs. It drags over you in repetition, oiled like the clock cogs before the head of his cock finally finds the opening his finger explored only minutes earlier.

You almost expect him to break you right then, force you to take what your body— no body- had surely been made for, but he only thrusts the tip inside and gives you some time to adjust, roll your hips down centimeter by agonizing centimeter.

“You are… Does it hurt you..?” His voice is a breathless pant, trying to hold himself together despite the daze he’s found himself in, buried not even three inches into your cunt.

“No… you can move,” you breathe out, eyelids fluttering as you tilt you head to look at him over your shoulder.

König clings to you as he sinks further, grasping at your waist to pull your further down, sharp breaths hissed between gritting teeth as he delights in the way your womanhood grips at his shaft.

Just as before, there’s no rhythm to him, he takes the sounds that leave you as a direction, huffing into your ear words that your mind could not hope to translate. There’s an indulgence to it, shared between you both as his hand curls tighter against your thigh, spread open and accepting of the brutal pace he takes to have just a taste of what it feels to be a normal man.

His words falter at a point, when you feel your body tightening around him, sucking him in, closer, nearer as your head lolls back. The inferno from before pales in comparison to the blaze that overtakes you now, his voice strained with bliss as you begin to moan for him. With each drag and soar of his cock spearing you open, you’re only brought further to a glimpse of Eden. If this were the fall of man, you find you couldn’t question Eve for relishing in it.

“… you gave me a name,” he rasps, “A home…”

All at once that glimmer of heaven crashes down around you, bathes you in the glow of something lofty and holy as he pulls you close and drives himself to the hilt within you. The throbbing and pulsing of his length pulls you over just as his seed spills within, drips thick and flooding as your own sex drools in tandem, sharing a perfect rapture both clandestine and sacred. He gives you another generous thrust, ensuring that he’s carved a space inside no other man could ever hope to fill.

You fret when you find him weeping, quiet tears rolling down his pale cheeks to spill over your shoulder, but the gentle smile on his face is pacifying as you twist around to face him. “And now you have my love.”

“I’ll cherish it,” he murmurs, voice broken and pitiful as you’re maneuvered upward to rest against the feather-stuffed pillows against the headboard.

You curl against him, head resting on his chest, an arm draped over his waist. He takes your hand into his own, appraising it like the first time you properly met. Hands of a maker. Your mind wanders to significance in that statement, the things that needn’t be told are finding ways to curtain you anyhow when he speaks again.

“Could you fix me?” He asks, tracing over the calluses on your fingertips, still bathing in the afterglow.

The question, though you felt it coming, still hurts to hear him speak it: breathing life into a thought that should have never existed to begin with.

“There’s nothing to fix.” Though you speak true, though you know he feels your sincerity, his eyes are heavy when he looks to you again. “Why would you ask me that?”

The story that he tells you then is one of horror. From his maker down to the things he’s done, seen, felt: hated from the moment he woke into this strange world, the horrible loneliness that pushed and bedded down inside of him like acceptance never would. The people that he’s throttled in some desire to finally have someone like him; men, women, it made no difference. All of it is bared with only one message eternally prevalent: he has only ever wanted to be loved.

In truth, he was a monster. Not because he was given the instinctual urge to be, but because it was all he knew. Gnashing teeth from demons hurling that word out with every stone they threw, every shot and stab at his heart.

You listen, despite the way it hurts, pull him a little closer when he ends his tale with your meeting, how he knew you were the only blessing he would ever receive in his lifetime— however long that may be.

You were good at fixing broken things, but König never needed to be fixed. Only found.

———

“Now you’re supposed to say it,” you hum, as his hands reach to the hem of the hood— his- covering your face. They rove beneath the fabric, curling against the skin of your cheeks, tracing small patterns there, some rotations like the clocks, others the childish hearts scribbled into books.

“I vow to take you as my wife.”

“You’re bad at this.” You giggle when he does finally push the cloth up past your nose, above your eyes and further until it’s pulled back like a veil.

“I will love you endlessly,” he continues, returning your noise of elation with a huffed laugh of his own. “I already do.”

“I love you, too.”

No one in town would ever properly marry you two, not if one look could make a weak man fall to his knees in horror, but here, beneath the roof of a home once echoing the same voice that haunts him… it was good enough. The moon seems to echo your vows with dancing rays, stars twinkling in approval as the calls of night birds carry through the open window.

There are no rings, no written formalities to be stored away with dust-ridden papers, preyed upon by mites. It’s far more sacred, genuine than the flippant affairs and arrangements that go on with those that would so readily cast the both of you aside. In truth— the thought of them rarely comes; doesn’t even rile up that intense fear inside of you any longer.

Everything only seems easier with the blooming garden outdoors, and the man who gazes upon you like he sees divinity itself behind your eyes, in the softness of your flesh.

When you kiss, it’s something from a fairytale, flowers strewn at your feet and the veil removed from your hair by a gentle hand.

Eden doesn’t seem so much like a memory lost to time, after all.

[just-jordie-things]

[part two] we weren’t just friends - okkotsu yuuta

word count: 11k warnings: swearing, drinking (but it’s legal!), mentions of masturbating summary: two idiots that are bad at confrontation and don’t want things to be awkward somehow make things awkward anyways. more info: college!au, aged up characters, roommates!au, childhood friends, n*oya makes an appearance in this part, soft yuuta taking care of drunk reader

part two: “i’m not ready, eyes heavy now” ___

[mai] : do you want me to come kidnap you? just say we have plans

[maki] : you don’t need to kidnap her.  she’s a big girl.  She can handle talking about her feelings.  can’t you, (y/n)?

[(y/n)] : no i don’t think i can :’( pls come rescue me, idk what to do.

[mai] : maki where are the keys i’m going over there

[maki] : the fuck you are, stay away from my car.

[maki] : i say this with love, (y/n).  get out of bed and just talk to him.  it’s not like you boned.  A little kissing never hurt anyone.  your friendship is stronger than that, don’t you think? 

[(y/n)] : …it was a lot of kissing…

[mai] : did he get a boner? 

[maki] : you’ve been friends a long time.  and he kissed you back, didn’t he? he probably enjoyed it.

[(y/n)] : i think he enjoyed it… idk… i’m rlly embarrassed about it.

[mai] : if he got a boner he enjoyed it.

[maki] : ur being gross :p

[(y/n)] : but what if he just got carried away and it didn’t mean anything and he’s upset with me? 

[maki] : did he say he was upset with you? 

[(y/n)] : … no.

[mai] : he’s probs pent up now.  you should seduce him again.

[maki] : then all this talk is pointless.  go TALK to him and then if it’s bad we’ll come swoop you up and take you out for the day.  deal? 

[(y/n)] : bed is comfy… and safe…

[mai] : and if we don’t hear from u we’ll assume u seduced him again

[maki] : you got this :)

(y/n) sighed as she turned off her phone, dropping it onto her mattress as she glared up at her ceiling.  The light from the sun had long since poured in through the window, having woken her up hours ago.  She wasn’t surprised to see so many texts in her groupchat with the Zen’in twins after Toge blabbed about what he thought he saw when he returned to the apartment late last night.

Normally she would’ve ignored their pestering and turned down any assumptions they may have made.  But she needed advice from her closest friends on what to do now.  She had yet to leave the safety of her bedroom, knowing Yuuta would be awake and going about his morning routine.  Maybe it was silly to be afraid of running into him, but her shame kept her shackled to the bed.

Maki was right, it wasn’t fair to assume how Yuuta would behave today.  It was a discredit to the years of friendship under their belts.  But then again, making out in a sudden moment of weakness was a blunder on their friendship, too.

Dramatically, she rolled over, planting her face in her pillow and groaning out her frustrations.

When she finally made an appearance, Yuuta’s head shot up from the kitchen table where he’d set up his things to spend the day working on an essay he should’ve started yesterday.  Just like yesterday, his focus shifted completely as soon as her door creaked open and she stepped out.

Her eyes widened a bit when they landed on him, as if she was surprised to see him there at all.  He gave her a small smile, hoping to ease any nerves she likely had coming into the morning.

“Mornin’,” He hummed, his gaze fixed on her as she lingered in her doorway, seemingly unsure about leaving her room at all.  “Made a pot of coffee if you need some” 

Yes, caffeine, her body pleaded, and she nodded at him gratefully as she made her way to the kitchen.  Even as she grabbed her usual mug out of the cupboard and poured a generous amount of coffee into it, she could feel his eyes on her back.

He watches as she shuffles about the kitchen, pouring in her cream and sugar before testing the drink, then repeating the cream and sugar.  He smiles to himself as this happens a few more times.  She’s not happy with it until it’s color is milky brown, and it surely no longer tastes like coffee at all.

“Thank you” She hums when she takes a longer drink, smiling as it finally tastes perfect.

She turns to him, leaning against the counter and holding her mug carefully in both hands.  He gives her a nod, his eyes flickering over her, as though looking for any sign of discontent.  He finds none.

“Yeah,” He replies quietly.  “You sleep alright?” 

(y/n) nods back.  “You?” 

He shrugs a shoulder, his head moving from side to side with lack of a real answer.  Her lips pull into an awkward frown, not knowing what to say now.

She hates that she finds it so hard to speak to him.  It had never been like this between them before.  They’d never tiptoed around each other, conversation always came naturally.  And when they were quiet, the silence was comfortable.

The silence now feels so heavy that her chest aches.

She hates that she’s the reason for the nervous energy buzzing in the air, making her skin prick with goosebumps and her heart beat erratically.

“I, uh, I think I’m gonna go out with the twins later” She forces herself to speak, saying the first thing that comes to mind.  Even though she hadn’t explicitly made plans with the Zen’ins, she was sure they’d do her this favor.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” She sighs, sounding less convincing by the second.  “Probably for drinks, I could really use a drink” She mumbles the last part.

Yuuta chuckles, his smile cracking a little further as his eyes catch the clock on the oven behind her, before looking at her again.

“Not even ten in the mornin’,” He tells her, tilting his head.  “Already need to forget today?”

Her face flushes and she tilts her head to stare down at her cup of coffee.

“That’s alright,” Yuuta brushes off her nervousness as best he could.  He just wanted her to be at ease, even if that meant pretending nothing happened between them.  “I’ve got an essay to keep me company today anyways,” He says, nodding to the scattered textbooks and notebooks before him.  “But you’ll let me know if you need a ride, or anything?”

She nods back at him, the smile on her face a little more genuine this time.

“Yeah, I will” She says, and finally makes her way out of the kitchen.

She goes to greet their fish good morning, cooing softly to the thing as it swims about it’s tank excitedly.  She gives into it’s begging, sprinkling in the smallest amount of fish flakes as she could, and cheering quietly as he strikes at the little clump of food at the surface of the water.  Yuuta tries not to stare as she murmurs and coos to the fish as though it were any other pet, a kitten, or a hamster.  But he can’t help the lurch in his heart watching her sweet talk the betta that only had the capacity to care about being hungry.  The scene truly was a testament to her character.

She finished her coffee and went about her normal routine without much else to say to him.  Yuuta tried not to mind.  He tried to focus on his essay and give her space to settle back into what felt normal.  He just hoped she’d relax sooner than later.  He’d hate to have her feel uncomfortable in her own home.

Shortly after she’d gotten in the shower, he lost focus on his project again and reached for his phone.

[yuuta] : i feel like a total fucking idiot.  i think i messed everything up.

[toge] : looked like u guys enjoyed urselves to me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[yuuta] : so not what i meant. [yuuta] : she can barely talk to me.  she only just got out of bed.  she seemed so uncomfortable.

[toge] : did she seem mad? maybe she just didn’t know what to say.  it is kinda awkward

[yuuta] : i don’t think she’s mad.  I think she just regrets it

[toge] : did u bring it up?

[yuuta] : no, i don’t know how

[toge] : well did u try ‘hey we made out and i liked it, what are we?’

[yuuta] : ._.

[toge] : ok taking that as a no. [toge] : but starting w that is prlly a good idea

[yuuta] : but what if that makes it worse [yuuta] : what if she doesn’t want anything more and it was just like a one time thing yk [yuuta] : we both had a bit to drink. [yuuta] : i think i’m going to have a panic attack.

[toge] : ok slow down for a sec [toge] : you’re jumping to conclusions, remember? you can’t decide what she’s thinking bcuz you haven’t talked about it. [toge] : rn what you have control over is what you want to do about it.  So for now, just try to focus on that. [toge] : and ur essay for econ.  actually you should put most of your focus on that.

[yuuta] : ok ur right.  i’m gonna work on that now. [yuuta] : thank you.  I’ll talk to you about it later.

[toge] : :) ___

Yuuta had never felt the menacing glare of the Zen’in twins fixed on him before.  When he opens the door to find them in the hallway, clearly perturbed to be greeted by him rather than the girl they were here to escort for the evening, he felt a cold sweat form on the back of his neck.

“Hey guys-” 

“Where’s (y/n)?” Maki pushed in first, side stepping Yuuta completely and bee-lining for (y/n’s) bedroom door, which had been shut since she’d been getting ready to go out with them.

Mai gave him a sympathetic smile, and he stepped aside to let her in.

“She’s a bit on edge, don’t worry about her,” She explained her sister’s antics, something she’d grown used to doing.  “But how are you doing?” 

The simple question didn’t hold it’s usual casual tone.  Mai looked genuinely curious to know his answer.  In fact, it looked like she was taking pity on him as her brows drew together in concern.

“Uh- fine.  I’m fine,” Yuuta stammered over his answer, and quickly made his way towards the kitchen, looking for something to busy himself with.  Getting interrogated by Maki and Mai was the last thing his nerves needed right now.

Even if Maki had already barged into (y/n’s) room and shut the door behind her with a slam.  He’d perked up at the ruckus, watching the door worriedly, but it remained shut, and he didn’t hear hollering from inside, so he figured all was fine between the two, and Maki was just up to her usual untamed behavior.  Mai chuckled to herself.

“Did you want a glass of water? Or something?” Yuuta asked, already filling a cup at the sink.

“Oh no, I’m alright,” Mai shook her head and took a seat at the kitchen table.  Her eyes scan over the messy stacks of books and the long extension cord that reaches across the whole room to keep his laptop alive while he works.  “You’ve been busy, hm?”

Yuuta chokes, whirling around, not realizing she’d been commenting on his mess at the table.  He instantly flushes, especially when Mai raises a brow and her lips curl into a smirk at his reaction.

“Oh- that- yeah,” He coughs to clear the hitch in his throat, hitting his fist to his chest a few times for good measure.  “I have an essay that’s due in a week” He explains quietly, certain that she didn’t actually care what he was working on.

Mai only nods, changing the subject before he could bore her with the specifics of the assignment.

“So, what’re your thoughts on the whole thing?” 

Yuuta blinks, unsure of what she was really asking.  Mai tilts her head at him, knowing he was a smart enough guy that he could figure it out on his own.

“I don’t know…” He sighs, bringing a hand up to the back of his neck.  “I don’t know what the right thing to do is…” 

Mai giggles cutely behind her fingers, as if she’d been watching two kittens playing with a ball of yarn, rather than watch a grown man struggle with the feelings he’d carried for years.  Feelings so strong everyone around him knew damn well where his heart lied.  It was a cruel laugh, but she couldn’t help it.  Yuuta could be so pitifully hilarious sometimes.

“Sorry,” Her apology is empty when he furrows his brow at her.  “It’s just… I owe Toge money for this, you know,” 

Yuuta’s gawking now, frozen and silent as he waits for further explanation.  Had everyone been in on something he hadn’t known about? Was this all some elaborate prank on him?

“I always thought you’d make the first move.  Guess Toge knew best this time” 

“Wait, you actually bet on- he bet against me?” Yuuta stammered.  Mai smiled sweetly.

“Everyone bet against you,” She told him.  “Well, everyone but me,” She corrected right away.  “Personally, I thought it’d be a whole love confession thing, you know? Like in the movies? I always thought you were the kind of guy that just wouldn’t be able to hold it in anymore.  After last night I was sure that if (y/n/n) had a little push it’d be enough for you to do something.  But it sounds like she initiated, no?” 

Yuuta’s head was spinning taking in all of this information at once.  Everyone knew? His closest friends, and they bet against him? His face felt hot with embarrassment, and just when he thought this whole thing couldn’t get worse, too.  Damn them all for being such a close knit group of friends that nothing was private anymore.

“I… I guess…” He answered the question quietly, unsurely.  Truthfully Yuuta wasn’t sure who exactly was at fault for the situation.  (y/n) might have brought up the subject, but he was the one who kissed first, wasn’t he? “So… she told you all of it?” He asked.

Mai smirked.

“Sorry, can’t break the girl code,” She says innocently.  Yuuta rolls his eyes.  Bullshit.  She just wanted to yank his chain.  “But you’re my friend too,” She reminds him.  “So I was just curious what you thought about all this” 

Their banter was cut short by (y/n’s) door swinging open, Maki’s voice carrying out into the hall as she exited, nodding for her sister to get up to head out.

(y/n) followed shortly after, a pair of heels in one hand, her other hand occupied trying to secure a bracelet on her wrist.  With her focus on awkwardly trying to maneuver the clasp with one free hand, Yuuta was given enough time to stare at her properly.

She’d spent a lot of time holed up in her room, supposedly getting ready, and now he could see just the amount of effort she’d put into doing so.  Her hair was done up, styled in perfect soft waves that bounced when she moved, and fell around her shoulders.  A simple but pretty dress hung from tiny straps at her shoulders and fell just above her knees.  It was her favorite color and one that complimented her very well.  Yuuta had been there when she’d found it and claimed it was an ‘impulse buy’, but she’d loved it thoroughly and had worn it regularly.  He stared in awe while she struggled with the jewelry and cursed under her breath.

It took him a minute to come back to reality, blinking quickly as if he needed to refocus, before approaching her with an outstretched hand and a small smile.  She understood what he was offering from the small action.  It wasn’t the first time she’d struggled to put on her own jewelry, and she’d often turned to him for help with the dainty clasps.

Sheepishly, (y/n) placed the charm bracelet in the palm of his hand, before holding her wrist out to him.  With how close she is he can smell the flowery perfume she’d just applied before coming out of her room.  It was sweet and pretty and he swore it flooded his senses like THC, lifting him right off the floor and into the clouds.

“Thank you” She murmurs.

She watches as he carefully lifts the jewelry from both ends, securing the claw clasp between his thumb and index finger gently.  A smile lifted at the corners of his lips as the little charms dangled off the silver chain, and he recognized the bracelet.

It was a gift from him.  For the first birthday she’d celebrated since moving in together.  It wasn’t the most extravagant thing, there were no jewels, the chain was made of silver rather than rose gold or something more expensive and romantic.  The charms were a mismatched set of stars and moons, some varying in color, but most of them the same silver as the chain they dangled from.  When he’d come across it, Yuuta thought he’d struck gold.  It had been the perfect gift.  He’d seen it in the window at a jewelry store he’d never looked at twice before, but somehow this little bracelet called to him and he was waltzing right inside and purchasing it at the counter not five minutes later.  

The clerk placed it in a little velvet box, which Yuuta took home and carefully wrapped a silky white ribbon around.  It had taken some practice to tie the bow just right, but he’d been very proud of his craftsmanship.  In the days leading up to her birthday, he was sure he was going to ruin the surprise, he was so giddy with excitement.

Then when the day came, and they were all out with their friends for dinner, he was a wreck.  Everyone else’s gifts were so different from his.  Maki had given her a nice leather jacket, Mai had given her a handle of her favorite rum, and Toge had given her a new game for their switch.  When all that was left was the small gift bag holding Yuuta’s gift, he was chugging his drink as she reached into it with a grin.

The table went silent when she pulled out a tell-tale velvet box, a perfect silk bow tied around it.  Yuuta avoided her gaze when her wide eyes turned to him.  He’d missed the way her cheeks had warmed up, too embarrassed by the stares from the rest of their friends.  ‘Jewelry?’ she’d asked sweetly, before carefully untying the ribbon and propping open the box.  She’d gasped, setting the box down carefully before lifting the bracelet from it, admiring each mismatched charm dangling from it.

Her eyes lit up as she turned to him, holding it out for him with one hand, the other wrist on display as she bounced in her seat, prompting him to put it on her.  That was the first of many times Yuuta had clasped the gift carefully around her wrist.  Conversation between the twins and Toge picked up again as the pair shared a sweet, private moment.  Yuuta wasn’t sure why it was so intimate to do such a simple favor for his friend, but his skin burned where it grazed hers as he adjusted the new jewelry for her.

‘It’s beautiful,’ She’d whispered softly, her eyes fond as they gazed into his.  ‘I love it so much, thank you, Yuuta’.

As he hooked the claw through the usual hoop she always wore it at, the perfect length to keep it secure on her wrist but still let the little stars loosely dangle, Yuuta couldn’t help but think about that first time he’d put it on for her.

“There,” He hummed when it hung perfectly around her wrist.  “You’re all set now” 

His eyes lingered on the bracelet and it’s meaning that he’d never quite worked up the courage to tell her about, before flickering to meet her soft expression.  There was something in her eyes that told him she was trying to say something, but she didn’t budge on it.  Her lips curved into a small smile as she nodded at him in gratitude.

“So we’re ready?” Maki cleared her throat, drawing both of their attention over to where she had her arms crossed and a brow raised.  

(y/n) was quick to shuffle away from Yuuta, sliding on her heels and making sure the straps were adjusted just right at her ankles before giving Maki a wide smile.

“Ready!” 

She leaves with a wave and a sweet call of good luck on finishing his essay.  Yuuta lingers at the door, even long after the three have left for the night.  The creeping feeling that he’s an idiot plaguing his mind again.

It wasn’t like he could tell her not to go, that wasn’t fair.  It also didn’t seem right to tag along, he wasn’t a total moron after all, he knew that she needed some space tonight with her girlfriends to collect herself and get over what happened between them.

But god, he just hoped she wasn’t going to get over it by finding someone else to distract her from it. ___

Rather than go to the usual bar that the group would spend free evenings at, Maki and Mai had promised an all new experience for the night.  Mai talked up the place animatedly, all bright eyes and movements of her perfectly manicured hands, while Maki drove and chastised her sister for being such an annoying passenger.

The longer (y/n) spent around them, the more her nerves began to settle and she finally gave in to the excitement of going out for the night.  It had been a while since they’d done something just the three of them.  Girl time was hard to come by, and often only happened in their groupchat.  Toge and Yuuta had a way of wiggling into their plans, not that they really complained about it.  It was nice to have a close and comfortable group of friends.

But right now, (y/n) needed two things.  One, time with her favorite twins that always scored free drinks wherever they went.  And two, the free drinks that the pair were currently scoring as they chatted up the bartender.  

(y/n) watched in amusement as Maki slid her glasses onto the top of her head pulling her hair away from her pretty face, and Mai leaned over the bar on her elbows, her low cut top doing all the work for her even while she undoubtedly flirted with the tattooed man behind the bar.  The high top table (y/n) sat at with all of their purses- it wasn’t like the Zen’ins needed their wallets- was far enough away that she couldn’t hear the conversation happening, but she recognized the sweet, alluring smile on Mai’s red painted lips.  It was a flirty look, and held absolutely no bite behind the bark.  It was just a well rehearsed dance, and she knew exactly how to use it to get what she wanted.

Admittedly, it had even worked on (y/n) a few times.  So she knew that no man was strong enough to withstand it’s power.

Sure enough, the girls were already headed back to the table with three drinks between them, and proud grins on their faces as they snickered between themselves.

“Did a phone number come with these?” (y/n) teased as Maki handed her the extra cocktail.  She thanked her with a bright smile, admiring the swirls of color in the drink before she stirred it up.

“Sure did,” Mai says, flashing the napkin between her fingers, the scrawl of numbers in purple ink spread across one side.  “I think I might call this one too” She adds excitedly.

Maki and (y/n) share a laugh before the three of them raise their glasses, clinking them together gently.

A few drinks passed and (y/n) had almost forgotten why she’d even wanted to go out tonight.  It was so nice to hang out with the Zen’in twins.  There was always plenty to gossip about, and especially in a setting like this one, there was only more fuel for their fire.

While Mai went back to order their fourth round, and flirt with the bartender some more, Maki dragged (y/n) out to the dance floor.  She knew her well enough to know that three drinks was just the right amount to loosen her up and get her out there without much protest.  And just as she thought, (y/n) eagerly followed, hips already swaying to the familiar beat.

“You feelin’ better?” Maki asked, leaning in close enough so she didn’t have to yell as much over the music.  Close enough that (y/n) could smell the familiar perfume she’d been wearing since they were in high school.

“I am,” She beamed up at her friend while they danced.  “Thank you for taking me out, this is just what I needed” 

Maki smiled back at her, relieved to have helped.  Even if it was only for a few hours, she knew that this distraction was necessary to clear her mind.

(y/n) and Yuuta had been dancing the dance of friends that hadn’t realized they were infatuated with each other for so long that Maki genuinely couldn’t remember a time when their romantic tension wasn’t all consuming.  When they’d decided to move in together, she’d known it was only a matter of time before something changed between them.  They all knew, hence the bet with Mai and Toge, that living in close quarters would create a rift at some point.

It sounded like that rift was more of a dive head first into unexplored territory, and (y/n’s) panic text last night that only read ‘s.o.s yuuta and i almost hooked up and i think i’m gonna have a panic attack’ was far more than anything she could expected to happen, but it was amusing nonetheless.

And Maki loved her friends.  She loved them so much she was happy to take her out for drinks and dancing in order to relieve some of the awkward tension at home.  But her friends were morons, and when this was resolved, she planned to never let them live it down.

Because there was no doubt in her mind that Yuuta loved (y/n) with every fiber of his being.  No doubt at all that (y/n) felt just the same for him.  She’d been following him around with stars in her eyes since they were children.  And Yuuta had never treated anyone the way he treated (y/n)- like she hung the moon and stars, like his entire world revolved around her.  

They could be in a crowded room with blasting music and hollering voices, and if (y/n) was speaking, Yuuta was listening to every word with his undivided attention.  Maki had seen it, on multiple occasions.

Six drinks and two free rounds of shots from the bartender that had a crush on Mai later, and Maki was struggling to herd her sister and her friend outside and towards the car.

It was very late into the night, and even for a Friday night Maki was ready to crash and get a full night of sleep.  She should have known to start the process of leaving an hour early, because since suggesting they square up their minimal tab and heading out, an hour is how long it had taken to get the two remotely close to the door.

Mai was insistent on staying until the place closes- which wasn’t for another three hours- but Maki refused to ditch her sister at a bar at one in the morning with a guy she just met.  Free drinks or not, that crossed girl and sister code for her.

(y/n) was a different story.  Three-drink (y/n) loosened up enough to dance a bit and mingle just a little.  Six-drink-and-two-shots (y/n) was making best friends out of everyone she ran into, whether they wanted to chat or not, she found a reason to hold their attention.  One girl had cute boots, some other guy was wearing a tee shirt of a band she’d heard of- not even liked, just heard of- and now she was off again talking to someone near the bathrooms.

“She said she was gonna pee!” Maki barked, and Mai lazily turned her attention towards where Maki was glaring.  “Come on, let’s go get her.  Again” 

Knowing better than to trust Mai to follow, Maki snatches her by the wrist and drags her across the bar with her.  Mai finds this amusing and a bit ridiculous, but doesn’t fight with her.

As they grow nearer and can see (y/n’s) animated talking, they also get a better look at who it was that had stolen her attention.

“Hey wait a sec,” Mai stops in her tracks, pulling her arm out of Maki’s grip only to grab her shoulder and maneuver her body until she could follow her exact line of sight.  “Is that…?” The name doesn’t come off her tongue, but it doesn’t need to.  Maki recognizes the man she’s speaking too instantly.

And she glowers, before speeding off towards the pair at a faster, more determined rate.  This time she knows Mai will be hot on her tail.

“Naoya!” 

(y/n) and the stranger she’d been talking to both perk up.  Recognition flashes in both of them as they see the Zen’in twins stampeding towards them.  (y/n) beams, delighted to see her friends.  The handsome stranger she’d been conversing with wears a smug look as he smirks at his cousins.

“We’re leaving,” Maki said, putting herself between (y/n) and her distant cousin, staring down at her friend with a grave expression.  “Let’s go-” 

“I didn’t pee” (y/n) pouts up at her, too out of it to notice the hostility between her friend and the man she’d just met.  Maki huffs, narrowing her eyes at her as though to ask ‘really?’.  (y/n) bats her eyes up at her.

“I was just keeping (y/n) here company while she waited,” Naoya speaks up.

The Zen’in twins both spun around to glare at him as he spoke.  If (y/n) hadn’t been inebriated she may have recognized the icy stares that she’d seen many people cower away from before.  Eerily enough when directed at him, he stared back at them with his chin tilted out and a smirk on his face.

“I’m happy to wait with her if you both have somewhere to be?” He suggested.

“As if” 

“Eat shit” 

Mai and Maki spoke in unison, both of their comments jarring (y/n), who was now shielded behind them like a small child.  Naoya lifted his hands in mock surrender, and took a step away from the wall.

He caught eyes with (y/n), confused, naive, drunk (y/n), who tilted her head as he waved goodbye to her.  She weakly raised a hand to return the gesture.  Maki glared between them both as she followed the interaction.

“You’ve got my number,” He grins, his eyes staying locked on hers even while Maki and Mai’s were so sharp he could almost feel them piercing his skin.  “If you change your mind on getting over that roommate” 

Mai’s jaw dropped open as she whirled around to (y/n), a look in her eyes that was somewhere between excitement and bewilderment.  Maki snarled at the man until he finally turned around and left.  It wasn’t until then that she ushered (y/n) into the bathroom, where there was no line to begin with, as it was completely empty inside.

The loud music and crowd at the bar muffled out once they were alone in there, and (y/n) was quick to scurry into a stall.

“Fucking ridiculous,” Maki cursed under her breath, while Mai pulled herself onto the counter of sinks, swinging her feet as she laughed to herself.  “If he tries to talk to her again, I’m punching him in the goddamn teeth” 

“That guy?” (y/n) called from the stall, only to go ignored by the sisters on the outside.

“Like when we were kids?” Mai mused, a smirk curling on her lips as she recalled the distant memory.

“No,” Maki shook her head, before a slow smirk of her own formed.  “That was his nose” 

They shared a laugh, even while (y/n) continued to ask who and what they were talking about.  Naoya was a face they’d hoped they’d never have to see again, but certainly had no issue breaking if it came to it.  And knowing him, things would likely come to that.  Since birth he’d been an asshole, it seemed.  Something about being a trust fund baby and a narcissistic manipulator seemed to bring out the worst in him.

(y/n) comes out of the stall with a childish frown as she drags her feet to the sink.

“We’re talking about Naoya,” Mai says, leaning back into the mirror to speak to (y/n) while she washes her hands.  “He’s our cousin” 

“That guy out there?” (y/n) mumbles, her brows furrowing as she focuses intently on soaping up her hands.  “He’s your cousin?” 

Mai nods.

“And he’s the fucking worst,” Maki pipes up with a bark in her tone that has (y/n’s) eyes snapping to her reflection in the mirror.  Sure enough, Maki was giving her a pointed glare.  “Stay away from him (y/n), he’s a piece of shit” 

With wide eyes and her lips pressed together, (y/n) nods back at her in a small movement.

She hadn’t spoken to him too much.  He’d approached her while she was lingering at the wall trying to get her texts to go through.  She vaguely recalled him saying something about a pretty girl being alone, but she hadn’t given him much of her attention, too drunk and annoyed with her phone for not working to care.

But one thing led to another and she was complaining to him about not getting in touch with her hot roommate that she’d made things complicated with, and after he showed her how to send the message as a text rather than an imessage, he’d prodded her into telling him more about this situation-ship as he’d called it, and next thing she knew, she was talking on and on about Yuuta.

And (y/n) may have been a bit drunk, but she wasn’t oblivious.  She caught the way he told her he’d help her get her mind off of things, she noticed the smirk on his lips and the darkness in his eyes as they swept her figure.  But she didn’t care about his intentions.  She just needed to vent, to an impartial- partially impartial- party that wouldn’t tell her what everyone else was telling her.

So honestly, (y/n) had no problem ignoring the new number in her contacts.  She wasn’t looking to hook up with Naoya.  But his company was appreciated while it lasted, even if he did only stick around her in the hopes of getting laid.

“She’s not interested in him like that,” Mai tells her sister, before her eyes flit over to (y/n) as she dries her hands.  “Are you?” 

(y/n) merely shakes her head, and tosses the paper towel in the bin.

“Thought so,” Mai smirked.  “You’re still hung up on Yuu-ta~” She singsongs his name with girlish charm, and Maki cracks a small laugh, relieved to know that she didn’t have to teach her asshole cousin a lesson to keep him away from her best friend.

“That much is obvious”

“Come on,” (y/n) sighs, pulling on Mai’s arm to get her off of the counter so they could finally leave the bar.  “Let’s go home so I can sleep this off and hopefully forget all of it” 

Mai slings her arm around her waist as they leave the bathroom, the noise of the busy place drowning out all else once more.  Even as the three of them push through the crowd, with Maki leading because her presence was strong enough to part a path in any crowd, (y/n’s) thoughts are messy.  It was probably all the drinks, but she couldn’t help but feel guilty for the situation she’d put herself in.

She feels Mai’s cheek on top of her head when they near the door, and Maki opens it for the two to go through first, then follow behind.  Sometimes (y/n) thinks her friendship with the twins had developed so much that she shares some of their special twin telepathy.  Because Mai squeezes her hip and nuzzles into her hair just as her thoughts begin to spiral the longer she thinks about going home.  Mai was always affectionate when she was drunk, and maybe she was riding on a high after her score with the sexy bartender, but (y/n) appreciated it nonetheless.  She even sat with her in the backseat of Maki’s car, falling half asleep on her while leaning up against one another.

“I’m so not carrying her if she passes out,” Maki half-chides as she glares at her barely conscious sister in the backseat.  “She can spend the night back there, I don’t care, I’m tired of carrying her ass around” 

(y/n) chuckles, and laughs a little louder as Mai stirs and mutters something along the lines of ‘m not fuckin’ tired back at her.

Somehow she doesn’t pass out on top of (y/n), although her weight is heavy against her, when Maki parks at (y/n’s) apartment complex, Mai sits right up and gets out of the car.  Her and (y/n) keep their arms wrapped around each other as they head inside.  Maki rolls her eyes and occasionally scolds them for being too slow, or stumbling around and bumping into things, but her voice is soft and her hands are gentle as she guides them to the door.

Just as (y/n) is slurring over her words trying- and failing- to explain that she doesn’t have her key, the door opens and Maki is pushing the two inside.

Mai disappears from (y/n’s) side almost instantly, suddenly craving a glass of water and one of the peaches on display in a porcelain bowl on the kitchen counter.

“Pretty much what you expected, yeah?” (y/n) hears Maki say, but she’s suddenly so tired that keeping her eyes open feels like a workout.  She doesn’t even have the energy to ask her what she’s talking about.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Someone replies.  A familiar voice that was deep but soft around the edges.  An instinctive smile forms on her lips.  “Thanks for driving, though.  And for… everything else” The voice grows quieter towards the end.

And then there’s a pair of hands on her shoulders, and (y/n) nearly collapses into the embrace.  She stumbles, catching her heel at an awkward angle and nearly sprains an ankle trying to correct her stance.  But the hands are faster, and stronger, and lift her by her hips before she could fall on the bent ankle or hurt herself at all.  She’s placed right back on the ground a moment later, but the hands remain.

“Yuuta~” She greets him once she finally realizes who it is that is keeping her upright.  It was an honest mistake, with her heavy eyes and alcohol flooded system, it was easy to confuse Yuuta’s strength for Maki’s.

Yuuta chuckles quietly at her delayed acknowledgement, his thumb caressing her hip in gentle circles.

“Let’s get you some water and into bed, hm?” He hums, tugging gently on her to get her to follow him.

(y/n) stumbles along without much hesitation at all.  She’s humming a tune that had been stuck in her head after she’d heard it at the bar, and Yuuta tries not to laugh at her inebriated state, but she does make it difficult.

When he opens the door to her bedroom, they realize why it had been shut.

Mai was face down in (y/n’s) pillows, passed out cold.  Her heels had been kicked off and unceremoniously thrown onto the rug, but that was as far as she got in settling in for bed.  She was still in her dress, all of her jewelry, and most definitely was staining (y/n’s) silky pillowcases with her makeup.

“Damn, that’s another pillowcase set she owes me” (y/n) mumbles with a huff, leaning defeatedly into her door frame.

“She’s done this before?” Yuuta’s brows furrow.

(y/n) looks over at him with a frustrated pout before nodding.  He winces, but their moment of shared exasperation is quickly clouded by how funny it was that such a thing had occurred twice and they hadn’t learned from it, and soon Yuuta was ushering them both out of the doorway and into the hall so they could let her sleep in peace.

“We’ll let her stay,” He says quietly, already guiding her to the other door.  His door, she realizes distantly.  “She clearly needs the rest, you can just stay in here, alright?”

He watches the delay in her realization as she turns to face him with a concerned look on her face.  Yuuta already knows what she’s going to say before the words form in her mouth.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” He eases her into the room with a gentle hand on her lower back.  Her expression is still unsure, but her feet move on their own accord further into the room.  “Get somethin’ to wear out of the dresser,” Yuuta instructs, knocking his knuckle against the drawer he kept his sleepwear in.  “I’ll go let Maki know she can stay with Mai if she wants” 

(y/n) gives him a small nod before he leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.  

It felt odd being in his room, not because it was unfamiliar to her, she actually spent plenty of time lounging in his room with him, but it was odd being there without him.  Especially when she’d been asked to change, and into his clothes no less.  

Her movements were hesitant as she opened the drawer he’d pointed to.  The wood creaked out and put his clothes on their perfect, organized display.  She let out a small laugh through her nose at how crisp his tee shirts were folded, and similarly, the even rolls of sweatpants beside them.  It was almost ridiculous how perfect it all looked.  But she couldn’t be surprised.

It almost felt wrong to pluck out a tee shirt and pair of sweats and unfold them, but suddenly her wrinkled skirt and the straps that didn’t want to stay in place on her shoulders were enough of a bother for her to unzip the irritating material and let it drop to the floor.

Yuuta’s clothes smelled like him.  Which shouldn’t have been something that surprise her as much as it did, pausing as she tugged the tee shirt down, dipping her nose against the loose collar and inhaling the familiar scent of pine and the laundry detergent they shared, creating a fragrance that was so distinctly Yuuta she could recognize it in a second.

She tied the drawstrings of the sweatpants in a double knot to keep them from sliding back off her hips, and that was when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in” She called quietly, aware of the sleeping girl in the next room over.  Although a tornado couldn’t stir Mai from the drunken slumber she was in.

Yuuta opened the door slowly, trying to keep it from creaking, before he entered the room.

He tried not to stare, he really did, but he couldn’t help but smile at the way his clothes blanketed her, and just how cute she looked in them.  It wasn’t necessarily the first time she’s worn his clothes, there had been plenty of times where he’d lent her his jacket, or a spare tee shirt in high school when she’d spilled milk on her blouse, and those times had felt special too, but now felt… significant.

Seeing her wrapped up in his pajamas in his room while getting ready to go to sleep in his bed, Yuuta’s grinning at her while her face is going pink with embarrassment.

“Maki went home,” He cleared his throat, trying to remember the conversation he’d just had before he walked in here and had his mind wiped of all logical thought.  “She said she’ll pick Mai up in the morning” 

“Alright then,” (y/n) nodded in understanding.  “Oh, and can I borrow a-” 

“Your shoes are still on,” 

Yuuta’s voice is soft as he cuts her off, vaguely pointing to where her strappy heels poked out under the pool of fluffy cotton at her feet.  She looks down as though confused by the statement, but sure enough she realizes she hadn’t taken them off when she’d dropped her dress and stepped into the sweats.

She giggles to herself and lifts a leg, the excess fabric of his pants hanging off her ankle so she could be sure her heels were in fact still on her feet.

“Here,” Yuuta reaches out, guiding her to sit on the edge of his bed.  She follows, but just before she could lean over to undo the small buckles at her ankles, Yuuta was already kneeling to the ground before her.

(y/n’s) certain that her mistake from the night prior is the only reason that she feels a swell in her chest and an intimate tension settle in the air around them.  Because there’s no other reason she should feel her heart racing and her face going hot as he carefully unlatches the buckle of the left shoe and slides the strap out before pulling the shoe away and dropping it to the floor.  There’s no reason why she should feel butterflies fluttering around her tummy as he follows the same procedure for the right one.

But she does.  She feels her blush and the butterflies and the dryness in her throat as the tension sucks all of the oxygen right from her lungs.  And when he looks up at her with a sweet smile, surely happy to have helped, all of those feelings seem to be put under a magnifying glass.

“Better?” He asks with that damn smile.

Against her will, her mind wanders to how soft and warm that smile had felt when it was pressed against her mouth.  How firm and gentle and experienced his mouth felt when it kissed hers.  Her fingers dig into the plush comforter she sat on, trying to ground herself to reality, as far away from that memory as she could get.

She gives him a small nod.

“What did you want to borrow?” He asks as he stands, and her eyes follow his as he’s suddenly so easily towering over her.  She almost had no idea what he was talking about, and she’s quick to release her hold on the blanket.

“Right- um- could I borrow one of your blankets? Mai is on top of all of-” 

Yuuta’s chuckling makes her halt in her explanation, her brows barely pinching together in question at the reaction.

“You don’t need to sleep on the couch (y/n/n), you can stay in here, I already told you that,” 

She presses her lips together as she regards him, trying to find any source of discomfort or regret.  He seems to pick up on her evaluation, and he raises a brow as he chuckles at her.

The sound feels all too delighted, like he was amused by her hesitation.

“(y/n), it’s fine, you’re overthinking,” He tells her.  “I’ll get you a glass of water, m’kay? Just… get comfortable.  You’ve slept in here tons of times before” 

He leaves the room before she could say what they were both thinking.  Not like this.  She’d accidentally napped in here on a few occasions, waiting too long for him to be done studying, or when her bedding was in the wash and she had grown tired after a day of chores, she wasn’t a stranger to his bed.  But just as she wasn’t a stranger to his room, it still felt all too new right now.

Like if she moved too quickly she might break something intangible yet oh so fragile.

Nonetheless, she shuffles into the bed and under the covers, and her hazy mind begins to settle as soon as she rests her head on one of Yuuta’s feathery pillows.  She wonders if everything he surrounded himself with- his clothes, his blankets, his pillows- was comfortable because he valued comfort, or if it simply was because it was all his.  Because it was an extension of him.

But maybe she was still just a bit drunk and overthinking the fluffy warmth surrounding her.  Maybe he was right about that part.

She’d just been drifting off to sleep when the door opened again, and she peeks her eyes open as Yuuta brings a glass of water over to the bedside table she laid next to.

“Try to drink all that tonight, alright?” His voice is a hum, surrounded by softness, and comfort, and she’s reaching for that question in the back of her mind again, prodding at it until she’s a little less sleepy, her curiosity stirring her mind enough to keep it active.

“Alright,” She murmurs back, leaning up on her elbow as she reaches for the glass, delighted to see it was chilled with ice.  “Thank you” She adds before taking a few sips.  Her dry throat had gone unnoticed until the first touch of water to her tongue, and suddenly she’s drinking down half the glass.

The bed dips behind her as Yuuta settles in, sighing to himself quietly as he gets situated.  (y/n) quickly sets the glass back down, before turning over to face him.

In the dark room she vaguely makes out his silhouette, and she can’t tell if he’s looking at her or not, so maybe it’s what helped ease her nerves as she laid before him.

“Did you have a good night?” He breaks the silence first, but he keeps his voice quiet.

“Yeah, I guess so,” (y/n) mumbles back, her fingers finding a loose thread in his sheets.  “It was fun dancing with Maki and Mai…” She wraps the thread around the tip of her middle finger.

“You sound disappointed” Yuuta comments, hooking his arm under his pillow so he could get a slightly better read on her expression, but the shadows cast over her features are too dark for him to decipher.

But he can feel it when she shrugs one of her shoulders and hums in a way that sounds like I don’t know.

“It was alright, it was, I just…” She tries to explain it, but as she speaks the rest of the words just don’t come to mind.  It had been fine, it had been fun even, nothing wrong had happened, but it didn’t quite feel… “I think I just thought my tendency of drinking to forget was the right way to go, but I don’t think it worked, and I think I’m only going to feel worse,” 

It was word vomit through and through, an endless stream of thoughts flowing right out of her mouth before she could think twice about what she was saying or how it might make him feel.  But the cusp of the issue was right there and she was dying to understand the complicated knot of feelings swelling in her chest.

“I think I made a mistake,” She slows down as she says this, and Yuuta wishes she would’ve ripped off the bandaid, but at least she couldn’t see it when he frowned at her.  “But not- not for what you think, I don’t mean it… like that,” She stammers a bit as she tries to correct herself, the alcohol still in her system doing her no favors besides the minor boost in courage.  “But I… I don’t think I could handle it” She says in a small voice.

She’s quiet for a bit as she tightens the thread around her finger, barely able to make out the way it creases and dips into her skin.

“Well…” Yuuta sighs, struggling to find the right thing to say to her.  

What could he say? He could tell her the truth, unpack all of his feelings, his entire heart, right here, but at the end of the day wouldn’t that just make things more complicated? She wasn’t exactly sober, and if she didn’t feel remotely the same way then he dug himself a socially awkward grave that he’d just have to live in because damn it they split the rent.  He’s panicking, breaking into a cold sweat even under two blankets.

“It was just a kiss, yeah?” He repeats what she’d told him just last night.  But unlike the confident, smug way she’d phrased it, he sounds unsure, and maybe even frightened.

Her head moves, and he still can’t make out the direction of her gaze, but he can still feel her eyes on him.  He tries to focus his vision better, hoping to adjust to the darkness soon.

“If it was just a kiss I don’t think I would’ve felt compelled to go out and try to forget it happened,” (y/n) replies, her voice hushed, afraid of revealing too much.  “I’m just really sorry” 

Yuuta blinks a few times, as if that would help him figure out if he heard her right.

“You don’t have to apologize, (y/n),” He tells her, his voice taking on a more serious tone.  “You have nothing to be sorry for, you didn’t do anything wrong-” 

“I made things so weird and over- over some dumb advice from Maki- and I just can’t believe I managed to find a way to make our friendship weird because- because you mean a lot to me, you’re really my best friend, Yuuta” 

He can’t tell if his heart swells with love or bursts with the sting of rejection at the statement.

“You’re overthinking again,” He forces a light chuckle, before reaching out and gently wrapping his hand over hers.  “It’s not that weird, alright? Nothing could change… us… okay?” 

She doesn’t say anything, just sighs in disappointment while his thumb brushes over the back of her hand.

“You mean a lot to me too, you know that,” He tried to lighten the mood, but with barely seeing her face it was hard to tell how she was feeling.  “It was just a kiss, alright? Just a… really nice kiss” 

“A few really nice kisses,” She mutters under her breath, finally cracking a small laugh.  Yuuta beams back at her, unable to stop himself from giggling back at her.

It grows quiet between them after a few minutes, but this time it’s comfortable, and she feels her muscles untense as she sinks further into the mattress.

“I did complain about you, though” 

“Complain?” Yuuta pouted.  “To the Zen’ins? They’ll use that against me, you know” 

(y/n) giggles, knowing full well that if she’d told the twins one foul thing about Yuuta they’d grab him by the ankles and dangle him right off this apartment building until he apologized to her.  But she shakes her head at him.

“No, no not to them.  Some guy at the bar,” She explains.  “Their cousin, actually,” 

He racks his brain for a minute, trying to recall who this cousin is, but he can only think of Megumi, and everyone knew Megumi, so had she run into Megumi, she would’ve said so, wouldn’t she? But no, she said some guy.

“Got his number, too,” She adds, but she sounds defeated, like it wasn’t a victory to get a cute stranger’s number at a bar when she’d specifically gone out seeking a distraction.

Something odd twists in Yuuta’s gut.  The jealousy was distinct, but the pride in picking up on the fact that she hadn’t been interested in this mysterious Zen’in relative.

“Maki said he’s a dick, though,” She explained her lack of interest.  “But he was sure happy to put up with my troubles” 

Yuuta lets out a humorless laugh.  “Who wouldn’t listen to a pretty girl at a bar rant about her problems?” He asks, and he can’t quite see it but he knows she rolls her eyes at him.  “But since you got that number complaining about me, that makes me a wingman, right?” 

She snorts back at him.

“Not in the slightest” 

“No?” He frowns.  “Why not?” 

“For one, you weren’t there, you can’t be a wingman if you’re not present,” She explains, matter-of-factly.  “And for two, I don’t think telling a guy how annoying it is that my hot roommate has been walking around in a towel and getting in my head really is all that deserving of me getting a phone number.  I don’t think that booty-call was going to lead anywhere other than the bathroom stall” 

Yuuta crinkled his nose at the descriptive language, before backtracking and perking up at the other part.

“Did you say I’m hot?” 

Realization flashes in her eyes, and Yuuta thanks whatever deity is up there that he can finally make out her features in the dark room.  When she doesn’t immediately reply, his lips curl into a grin.

“You did!” He teases, and she yanks her hand out of his gentle hold, only for him to poke at her face playfully.  “You said-!” 

“Hush,” She shushes him with irritation.  “You’ll wake up Mai.  And- and that’s not a big deal.  You compliment me all the time” 

Her face is burning, and the smile that threatens to take over her face is beginning to win.

“Shut up, that’s totally different,” He murmurs, and moves closer to her when she tries to shrink away out of embarrassment.  “You called me your hot roommate.  And apparently you’re getting bothered over a towel? Is me being shirtless that upsetting?” 

“I’m not doing this with you right now-” 

“Oh no, come on, you have to now,” Yuuta pleads, his voice still that annoyingly sexy teasing tone.  (y/n) turns to push her face into her pillow, and he wiggles closer again, eager to hear what else she’d had on her mind.  “Come on, what else did you have to complain about?” 

“I complained that you’re annoying,” She whines, her voice muffled by the pillow.  Yuuta chuckles.  “And I complained about how you don’t know how much you…” She trails off, and her voice goes impossibly quieter.  “Bother me” She finishes in a mumble to the pillow.

He hears it perfectly clear.

His face feels hot, and there’s a familiar little tingle in his stomach.  But he smirks at her hiding form.

“Well what else, then?” He asks.

(y/n) rolls her head to the side, pressing her cheek back into the pillow as she looks over at him.

“What do you mean?” She asks.

“What else bothers you?” He clarifies his question.

She giggles as she shakes her head at him.

“No way” 

“Yes way,” Yuuta laughs back at her.  “Come on, tell me” 

“No!” She protests again in a hiss.  “Am I not embarrassed enough already? I’m taking this to my grave” 

“No you’re not,” Yuuta scoffs.  “Come on, you tell me everything, so, tell me” 

She supposed he had a point.  A dumb one, but a point nonetheless.  Clearly at some point or another she was bound to indulge him on this.  Even though she couldn’t explain it, she was always driven to share every part of herself with Yuuta.  Even when it was embarrassing.  Even when it was intimate.

(y/n) may have told the Zen’in twins about the rushing-out-of-the-shower thing, but that hadn’t meant there weren’t other instances where her mind crossed the platonic boundary between her revolving thoughts of Yuuta.  That was just the first occurrence she assumed they could understand.

She huffs.

“Sometimes you wear your tee shirts a size too small,” She mumbles.

Yuuta wants to tease her, maybe crack a joke, but he keeps his mouth shut as she gives in.  He didn’t want to miss a single word.  He had to pay close attention so he knew exactly how to get under her skin in all the right ways.  Hearing that she found him hot was one thing, he could pass it off as a joke or an empty compliment.  Hearing that there were specific things that he did that made her sexually frustrated? He couldn’t mess this up for himself.

“And when you drive me places, you do that thing with your arm when you back the car up” She adds.

“What do you mean?” He questions that one with a furrowed brow.

“You know,” She mumbles, weakly lifting her arm to demonstrate, bending it behind her head.  He shakes his head, not understanding in the slightest.  “You always grab the back of my seat and look over your shoulder,” She tries to put it into words.  “And then, it’s just, like-” The words fail her again as she continues the motion with her arm.  Yuuta thinks he gets what she’s trying to explain, but he has no idea that such a mundane action was a bother for her.

“That turns you on?” He tries not to laugh, but then (y/n’s) face goes red and she’s trying to deny it.

“I didn’t say that!” She squeaks out.  “I just, you know, forget that I’m not supposed to… thinkaboutyoulikethat” She rushes the confession out as fast as she can.

“I… think that’s pretty normal,” Yuuta admits quietly.  (y/n) blinks wide eyes at him, waiting for him to continue.  “And if anything, I’m flattered,” He adds with a grin.

“Yeah, yeah,” (y/n) huffs, before wiggling closer, pressing her forehead into his chest before sighing, sleepiness overcoming her.  “Not a word of this to anyone else” She mutters.

Yuuta mock whines as he wraps an arm around her back, tucking her closer against him.  He pretends not to notice when her nose nuzzles into his tee shirt, in the middle of his chest.  He pretends not to notice when her hand slips across his abdomen and over his waist.

“I think about you too,” He murmurs, resting his chin on top of her head.  Her fingers twitch on his hip, almost tickling him.  He tries not to wiggle, he doesn’t want her to think he’s uncomfortable.  “For the record” 

“You do?” She mumbles, half asleep already, but too curious about what he meant by that.

“Mhm” He hums, his hand trailing down her spine and then back up again, the gentle touch of his fingers warming her up, making her melt further into him.

“Like when?” She asks, and when he doesn’t reply right away, she lets out a sigh.  “Come on, I told you!” She whined.  “Now you have to tell me some embarrassing stuff, too” 

“Alright, that’s fair,” Yuuta agreed.  “I like when you wear that dress” He says.  (y/n) beams against his chest.

“That one?” She mumbles, weakly gesturing to the pool of fabric on his floor.  He nods back at her.

“Mhm,” He confirms quietly.  “I know it’s your favorite.  It should be” He smiles to himself.  (y/n) giggles quietly, the soft vibrations hitting his chest and warming his skin.

“Tell me more” She mumbles, the words barely audible.  Yuuta knows that she’s going to pass out soon.  Her breathing was beginning to slow, and her chest rose and fell in steady movements.  Surely he could leave this conversation as it is and she’d be fast asleep in a minute or two anyhow.

“Well,” He sighs out the word, as if he had to pick his own brain to come up with more examples, as if every little thing she did wasn’t enough to catch his eye on it’s own.  “Maybe things are a lil’ different now, hm?” He hums.

(y/n) doesn’t respond.  For a second, he thinks maybe she’s finally fallen asleep, but just as he contemplates checking, her head moves in a small nod.  A silent, barely-there admission.

“I like the way you kiss,” He says, and she can hear the smile in his voice, the cheeky but all-too shy little grin that she’s grown so accustomed to.  She gives him another giggle, a breathless little laugh that makes her shoulders shake and her nose press into the collar of his shirt.  “It’s true, I mean it,” Yuuta said, a quiet laugh escaping him as well.  Partially due to her laughter infecting him, partially out of the relief that maybe talking about what happened would help them both to not feel so weird about it now.  “You’re a good kisser, you should be proud.  I for one feel honored” 

He’s teasing, she knows that, but her face still feels warm as she keeps it tucked away in his chest, hoping that her heart wasn’t beating so rapidly that he could hear it in the quiet room.

“You’re a good kisser, too,” Her words are more slurred than before, Yuuta can practically hear her losing consciousness as she drifts off.  “Really good kisser” She adds under her breath.

And then her head feels a little heavier on his chest, and Yuuta doesn’t have to check to know she’s asleep in his arms.  He’s exhausted and he knows he should close his eyes and try to sleep, too.  But it feels too nice to hold her close, so he hangs onto consciousness for as long as he can.

Before his body’s tiredness finally takes over, he brushes his lips over the crown of her head, and settles into his pillow with his arms securely wrapped around her, making sure that she stays close while he sleeps.

___

xoxo ~ jordie

[onepieceisreeeeaaalll]

Don't Stop - Law x FemReader

Hey all! This is my first attempt at writing smut that I feel like is good enough to publish. Since it's kinktober, I wanted to contribute to the community in some way. I typed it up this morning and went over it a few times. Its fairly short, a little over 3k words and features mutual masturbation.

Edit: I keep going back and making changes when will the perfectionism leave me lol. I also changed the title bc I like it better.

This is for my Law girlie's. Hope you enjoy!

--------

Law had decided early on that day that he wouldn’t allow any distractions. He had let the paperwork build and build over the past couple of days, something that has greatly troubled him. It’s not like him to avoid work, but he couldn’t get that damn woman off his mind no matter how hard he tried. The feeling of her curves, the valley between her breasts, the sounds she’d make-

Today is different, though. Today will be productive and disciplined. He’s the damn Captain, a surgeon - he can handle a little discipline. But no matter how many times he reads through his paperwork, fills out variables and dots his signatures, he struggles with maintaining focus. He’s never felt so needy before, so goddamn horny. It’s annoying the way you completely flood his senses in every way. More than that, it’s irritating. After what feels like hours, but has likely only been maybe one hour of mindlessly dragging his eyes along the papers, he groans in frustration. Law leans back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He can’t. The moment he closes his eyes, all he can see is your beautiful smile. The way the light shines through your hair, the sway of your hips and the shape of your ass. How your lips looked wrapped around him last night. His thoughts get more jumbled, more needlessly arousing that he feels his cock twitch in his jeans. Fuck. Goddammit. This is bullshit.

Get a grip, Trafalgar. Get a goddamn grip on yourself.

He can’t take it anymore. In one swift motion, he stands abruptly from his desk and exits his office. Law can be a patient man when he needs to be, but today is not one of those days. He can’t focus until he sees you, until he gets the opportunity to bring you both to a fucked-out state of bliss. He needs to feel his body against yours, to light the fire in his veins that pervades and itches beneath his skin. Law barely even registers the faces he passes, the familiar friends and colleagues of his crew with their faces twisted with either concern or a knowing expression. They aren’t even on his mind. His feet move fast, echoing through the metal halls of the Polar Tang. He needs you. He needs you like air.

Law makes it to his quarters where he had left you this morning. He’d exchanged a few sweet chaste kisses in the early morning hours to try to convince the both of you that he’d come back for more later. Later arrived far sooner than either of you might have anticipated, but his control had snapped and he's now a man on a mission. He takes a deep breath, his hand lingering on the doorknob. This is it, Trafalgar, your one last chance to walk away before you-

“Fuck.”

A breathy moan reverberates from inside of the room. Law feels his heart stop and his blood turn cold. He knows that voice, the quality of swears that leave you when you’re in the throws of passion. Are you…?

Another moan, this time longer but softer. His eyes widen and his heart suddenly quickens at the sound. He can’t believe it. You are.

An internal, agonizing debate begins in his head. Should he walk in, give you what you need? Should he walk away, try to take care of business himself? At this point he’s too far gone - he knows what you’re doing and god does he want to join. With the sound of another wanton moan, his primal urges win out and he gently pushes open the door. He's careful to move it in just the right way that it won’t creak, unsure if he wants to get caught and possibly interrupt it. He slips in, quickly closing the door behind him to observe the debauchery going on in his bed.

And fuck, is it debaucherous.

Law takes in the beautiful feast before him - you lying back on the mattress, only a thin sheet haphazardly resting against your lower waist, blocking the full view of your activities. Your back is arched, eyes closed as your hands move desperately in tandem beneath the sheets. He can hear the wet sounds of your slick being invaded by your digits and, judging by the trembling of your legs, you’ve been at this for a while. A small, shaky breath leaves him as he hears your noises - god, those noises that haunt him and invade his dreams. Those enchanting, goddamn helpless sighs, little gasps and hiccups that escape you when you’re really enjoying yourself. Law swears he could listen to them on repeat and never tire of hearing them. The flush of your cheeks is so mesmerizing that his eyes linger there in particular for a moment, a growing desire rising in him to make that blush deeper. His eyes trail back down, and this is the part that really makes him really feral; you’re wearing his shirt, and it’s hoisted just above your breasts to expose the beautiful peaks of your areolas. Everything about you is so intoxicating, and the fact that you’re completely surrounded by him, his scent, his private quarters - all of it just sets him off. He is immediately hard in his jeans, feeling the tightness constricting him like a vice.

“Fuck…” Law breathes, accidentally falling back against the door.

That’s when you hear him. With two fingers still curled inside you, your finger desperately rubbing your needy clit, you halt your movements dead in your tracks. Your eyes widen at the sight of your boyfriend leaning against the door, his own face slightly flushed despite his usual resting-grumpy face. Your heart is racing and you can’t even think for a moment from the combination of the lustful haze and embarrassment filling you. You’re both quietly observing each other, watching with acute awareness that this isn’t what either of you were expecting. Finally, you can’t stand the awkward silence anymore, and you decide to speak.

“I thought you were working.” You say breathlessly, your voice still shaky from the intensity of your actions only moments ago.

“Yeah, I can see that.” You respond quietly. You’re trying to get a handle on your breathing, but your hands are still posed to attack at your aching center again. You don’t know why you haven’t moved them away yet, but now it feels awkward to call attention to that area.

“I was.” Law answers simply, a little more quickly than even he meant. “I’m not now, though.”

It doesn’t matter if you do call attention to it or not, though. Law’s eyes are already trailing down your body with a silent reverence and a hidden, predatory intention. His throat bobs as he makes it to the sheet that’s covering you. It’s silent again but only for a few moments this time. It doesn’t take long before Law’s self control breaks.

“Don’t stop.”

Your breathing hitches at his words, the way they sound so firm yet strained making your walls clench around your fingers automatically. Don’t stop - don’t stop? Your brain doesn’t even fully comprehend the command before your hands are already working you over again. The middle and ring fingers of your right hand rub slow circles at your clit, the same fingers on your left hand beginning to pump back into you. It’s not as intense as it was when you were interrupted but it’s enough to elicit small, needy whines from you. Your eyes stay trained on Law’s and the way his pupils seem to have darkened over his expression. You trail over his body in a quiet admiration for your boyfriend. His muscles that are taut beneath his shirt, the way his belt buckle rests on his waist, and his cock that's so hard and dying to escape his pants. The sight makes you groan and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from getting too loud.

A small smirk rises to Law’s lips. He sees exactly what you’re looking at and it drives him crazy with need. His arms are crossed over his chest as he watches the show, but he’s not sure how long he can last with the throbbing in his groin.

“Move the sheet.” He instructs, his voice smooth but commanding. It’s the same voice he uses when he’s giving out assignments or instructing a surgery. It’s also your favorite voice he uses in the bedroom.

You take your hand away from your clit, shakily moving it to remove the sheet that blocks his view. Once you’re fully exposed, your hand returns to your clit and a soft whimper escapes your throat. You’re pulsing around your fingers again when you see the way his eyes zero-in on your pussy and the good work you’re doing. Fuck, it’s such a turn-on to see the way his cock twitches in his jeans. Through breathless gasps, your hands increase their speed and your own gaze is fixated on Law.

“Touch yourself.” You instruct, using your own commanding voice despite how much you’re falling apart.

You don’t need to tell Law twice. His hands move to undo his belt with practiced ease, but his eyes never leave you. His smirk stays fixated on his lips even with how flustered he’s feeling. You’re so beautiful to him, you hung the goddamn moon and now you’re putting on the most perfect show for him. He can't get enough.

“You want me to get off to you touching yourself, (y/n)?” Law asks in almost a mocking, teasing tone.

You nod weakly, biting your lip when you see him toss the belt aside carelessly. His hands move to his buttons and zipper, and the sound of the zipper echoing in the room is enough to make a few needy sighs leave you. It’s only heightened when his cock springs out eagerly as though it was dying to greet you and make an appearance.

“Fuck, you’re so hard…” You groan, your eyes shutting briefly to try to get a grip on yourself.

That’s not good enough for Law, though.

“Hey, eyes up here. You’re the one who wanted me to touch myself.” Law says, his tone both firm and somehow still laced in mockery.

Your eyes snap open at his command and you can see he’s already making quick work of his shaft, his hand pumping in slow, measured movements. His tip is already red and inflamed, glistening beautifully with his precum in a way that makes you lick your lips. Without your permission, your hands have already started picking up the speed. Your two fingers are curling and moving in and out of you with a force that makes your body tense. Your fingers at your clit circle the bundle of nerves furiously, causing your body to shiver from the pleasurable sensations. You’re already so close from building yourself back up. This scenario, it’s the hottest thing that you and Law have ever done, which is saying something.

It’s so primal, so horny and hungry that both of you have to watch each other masturbate while longing to touch the other. The sounds in the room are absolutely sinful - moans, low curses, huffs, and the sound of skin being assaulted echo against the metal walls. Pure unadulterated lust fills the room and it's enough to make both you and Law feels completely enraptured by it. You’ve never seen Law so undone so quickly before and you’ve certainly never seen the way he touches himself. It’s almost hypnotizing to dart between the focused look on his face and the way his hand eagerly strokes his cock.

“Add a third finger.” Law commands, his voice breathless and strained.

You immediately do as he says, a third finger poking into your core with little regard. Another whine leaves you and the way your face contorts with pleasure causes Law’s hips to buck towards his hand involuntarily.

“Fuck, (y/n)...you’re so goddamn needy for me. You couldn’t wait a few hours?” He mocks breathlessly.

“No, I-...I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Clearly. You’re so wet for me, I-” Law hisses, his hand clenching around his cock. “God, you’re so beautiful like this. Using your hands and pretending they’re mine.”

You groan, your body arching slightly at his praise. He always knows exactly what to say to get you there but you always give it right back to him. Dirty talk has almost become a game between the two of you. Ordinarily the surgeon is very introverted and stern, but in the bedroom he has a way of opening up far more than you’d ever expected.

“Yeah? You like that I couldn’t stop thinking about you, that I- ah-...that I needed to fuck myself?” You respond just as breathlessly before biting your lip to suppress another whiny moan.

Law doesn’t respond immediately, a strangled huff leaving his throat instead. He’s not one for making a lot of noises, but you have a way of bringing out the worst - and best - in him.

“What were you thinking about?” Law asks quickly, almost like he’s compelled to.

Your hands increase their speed, your fingers almost slamming into you and dragging along your walls. Every now and then you touch that beautiful, spongy g-spot that makes your pussy clench tighter.

“You bending me over your desk, slapping my ass and calling me a good girl.” The words fall out of your mouth, and you’d almost be embarrassed if you weren’t so worked up.

That doesn’t matter to Law, though. He groans, his head falling back against the door he’s still leaning against. He can feel his heartrate quickening and every word you say is pushing him closer. Your voice alone is like a goddamn aphrodisiac.

You’re not doing much better, either. Seeing him almost lose himself from your admission sends a shiver down your spine. You can’t take your eyes off of his cock - you’re completely fixated by the way his veins decorate his shaft and the tattoos on his hands moving fervently to bring him to a release. You can feel yourself reaching that peak, teetering on the edge towards absolute nirvana.

The noises coming out of you are not even controlled anymore - they’re animalistic, urgent, and your hands are moving with that same energy. It’s been quiet for a minute now since your admission, but Law speaks up quicker this time than the last.

“Look at you, taking your fingers so good. You're such a mess.” He breathes, his hand stroking his cock a little faster now. He can see the sickness of your fingers when they exit you and it's so delicious looking. “A goddamn mess. So fucking tight you can barely move your fingers.”

“Law.” You whine, your body tensing. He's absolutely right - with how much you're tightening and pulsing on your fingers, you can barely move all three of your fingers. Your walls have a firm grip on you as if trying to swallow you whole.

“Yeah, baby? You say my name so goddamn perfect. Say it again. Say it.” He commands, small huffs of air leaving him. If you could hear anything over the noise of your pussy and the sounds leaving you, Law can be heard groaning so softly.

“Law. Fuck, you feel so good.” You gasp, your mind completely hazy. It's not even him in you but you're so preoccupied by the movements of his hand that you can't help it. It's what comes out.

“Mm…do I? You wish it was my cock stuffing your pretty pussy instead?” Law groans, his head falling back again. He's so close that he can't even begin to hold himself together anymore.

“Yes. Please, I want…fuck, I-...oh my g-...” You choke out, your words barely even coherent anymore. You're so close, right on that precipice, and it makes Law let out a breathless chuckle.

“You gonna come already? Fine, do it, then. Be a good girl and look at me while you cream on your fingers.” Law commands breathlessly, his voice strained but stern.

That's all it takes for you. With a final curl of your digits, you're sent firmly over the edge and into complete unfettered ecstasy. The way you tremble and keen makes Law finish too, though his is more controlled and fairly silent save for one quiet groan.

Law can't peel his eyes away from you as you finish. It's mesmerizing watching you writhe and work yourself through your orgasm. It feels like he's watching some taboo art he's not supposed to. Your body is so gorgeous to him that it makes his heart pound. How in hell did he get so lucky?

After a few moments of panting and quietly recollecting yourselves, Law pads off across the room to grab a towel and clean his hand. He'd managed to catch most of his release, though he has to wipe some of it from his shirt. With a sigh, he removes the material, chiding himself silently for making such a mess. He finally glances back over at you, seeing the blissed-out limp expression on your face. Law smirks before making his way over to the bed, taking a seat next to you.

It's quiet for a moment and he can tell that you've fully come back to yourself. Your flushed cheeks indicate the embarrassment that seems to have finally settled in. He chuckles softly, taking a hand to brush some hair from your forehead.

“You have a good time?” He teases quietly.

You groan, annoyed, and avert your gaze from his. You've never been caught masturbating before, much less masturbated with someone else. It was as vulnerable and shameful as it was hot.

“Shut up.” You pout. “I didn't think you were coming back for a few hours.”

“I know.” Law says gently, moving his fingers delicately through your hair. “It's fine. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Yeah, well I disagree.”

“What? You didn't like it?” Law asks with a small smirk. Judging by how you two got off, he knows that you'd be full of shit to deny it.

“Tell you what. I still have some work that I need to get done. At lunch, though, I want you to stop by my office.” Law leans in close, his breath tickling your ear. “Maybe we can make that fantasy of yours a reality.”

You don't even bother answering. You know he knows the answer. After a few moments of silence, Law clicks his tongue his fingers moving to drag his knuckles across your cheek gently.

[magicdustsworld]

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧'𝐬

Levi Ackerman x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Returning home via a road trip sounded good until your car had to run out of gas. With little choices and a lot of compromises, you and your boyfriend decided to crash in a cheap motel for one night. It wasn't your fault that things got a little heated. No one will know, right? Right?

Tropes: Explicit smut, not an established relationship

Warnings: Profanity, fingering, nipple play, protected sex (not b/w main leads), voyeurism, masturbation, ejaculation, nonconsensual videography, implications of blackmail, modern AU, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n.

Word count: 2.8k

Event: my work for @/levievent under the prompt of day 2 - voyeurism.

A/N: Will be posting on Ao3 soon + I only have two hours before I actually have to wake up for school hjshjs bye gotta go sleep! Hope you enjoy <3

Divider credits: @cafekitsune

Five? Six? Or has it been Seven?

The humid breeze wisped through your hair as your boyfriend drove down the highway. You perched your elbow over the window ledge, face nestled into your palm as you absentmindedly drummed your fingers over your cheekbone. You checked your watch – 16:27. Time seemed to crawl, dragging itself and so did it drag your irritation which ascended like a straight line graph. The scowl played on your lips and you didn’t bother hiding it from your partner. Least interested. Why should you even do that in the first place? He was the reason for it, after all.

The car revved through the forlorn road, occasionally you’d get a glimpse of a shepherd or two as they returned to their homes with their flock of sheep. Given, the sun was setting down, coating the very grasslands and farms with its hues, the mild heat burnt your skin yet it wasn’t anything too sharp. Rather it was proving to be your solace from the palpable tension strewing in the vehicle.

“Just an hour more,” His voice reached your ears over the buzzing of the radio. “We’ll reach there before you know it.”

You merely hummed at that, keeping your attention strictly on the sprawling grasslands that stretched miles over the horizon.

However, your lack of response caused him to let out a frustrated groan, “How long are you going to keep up that bitchy attitude?”

“As long as I want.”

Obviously, he didn’t take that kindly-vexation flaring in his veins. “For Fuck’s sake,” He cursed. “What are you even so god damn upset about? I said we’ll be in Paradis soon enough.”

“I don’t know, Eren.” You snapped back. “Maybe it’s because we would’ve been in Paradis by now if you weren’t fucking reckless.”

“Me? I was reckless?” He scoffed, voice dripping with disdain. “We had to start off an hour late because of you and now you have the fucking audacity to put the fucking blame on me?”

“You didn’t have to breach the speed limit for that. Was it fun to get stuck in the station for two hours? And a ticket on top of that?” You rolled your eyes. “Buy one get one free, how delightful!”

“That’d only be a case of five minutes if the officers weren’t-”

“Don’t you dare start with your speech on our miserable government now, it pisses me off.”

Green eyes blazed with fury as he glared at you and you glared back with an equal fervour. The staring contest only served to heighten the chasm of agitation that dripped from you both. Until, both of you broke it off with a derisive huff-turning your individual attentions away from each other.

Spending a week in Marley with your boyfriend had been lucrative. Considering you were able to catch up with a few of your friends during the, albeit short vacation had you more jubilant than ever until... this day. Returning to Paradis via a road trip sounded good, exciting even, until it was put to practice. With each atrocious situations both of you found yourself in since the break of dawn, only made this journey unbearable.

Ten minutes further into the drive, the revving of the car engine was the only sound that cut through the cold war; until that happened to be a distant memory. The vehicle slowed down gradually, friction and the coarse road causing it to sputter and eventually come to halt on the desolate road.

You blinked. So did Eren. A second passed in silence until he spoke.

“Out of gas.”

A smile stretched on your lips, “Perfect.”

.

Amidst the darkened night sky, the neon red name of the motel stood out – The Ackerman’s.

After the car had ran out of gas, both of you had to walk three kilometres in the highway until reaching a site where at least civilized humans resided. You and Eren for the first time today, could agree that being stranded in the middle of nowhere would be more precarious than it showed itself to be. Besides, both of you had taken the highway which crossed the farmlands. Hardly any car would drive by that can offer both of you a lift and asking help from the locals was out of the question. Neither of you were psychics to know who might harbour ill intentions and who wouldn’t. Left with little options, a quick google search had you aware of a cheap motel only kilometres away. With a three point five star rating, it seemed to be a decent place to crash in for just a night.

Entering the motel, you were greeted with a small lobby comprising of a reception desk, a staircase which presumably was for the rooms above, and a door which had a hanging sign of staff only. The carpet underneath your boots appeared thin and frayed on the edges. Desk made of cheap laminate, an old computer rested on it with a file and a few pen stocked in a holder. Although, an air of loneliness surrounded the area, you couldn’t help but find how all of it was unbelievably clean.

“No one’s here?” Eren questioned, walking over to the reception desk – eyes searching for any semblance of life.

You sighed, stretching your arms and twisting your torso to get rid of all the pent up tension. “Seems so.”

“Seems not.”

On cue, a grave voice reached your ears. Rotating on your heels, you encountered him—a man who appeared a few years older. Dark hair styled in an undercut with bangs cascading over his forehead, sharp features and a poker look marked his mien. He held a teacup, quite literally on his fingertips, eyes lingering on you for a second before he strolled over to the reception.

The brief moment when he side past you, had you keenly aware of two facts. First, he’s shorter than an average man. Second, he’s hotter than an average man.

He plopped himself on the chair across the desk, keeping his tea cup down. Turning on the computer, he asked, “Room for two?”

“Room for two.” Eren answered.

He kept his eyes on the screen, the clicks of the mouse reverberating. “Night or hours?”

Eren blinked. “What?”

“Charges.” He clarified. “Should I charge you by a night or hour?”

“What’s the difference?”

“15 dollars for an hour each and 150 for a night.”

You could see how Eren’s lips twisted into a frown as if both the prices hurt his soul on a personal level. After a moment of contemplation, he answered, “One night.”

The man nodded, continuing the process of registration. After a five minute delay which consisted of filling in details such as name, phone number and asking for ID, Eren received the key. Opening a file, he pointed to the bottom right corner, “Sign it.” Eren complied without much of a thought. After he was done, the man’s eyes flickered to you. “You too.”

Therefore, you complied too.

.

The room was far from ideal.

A makeshift double bed with a nightstand, two chairs for lounging, a box TV, and an attached bathroom which you didn’t bother to check. The walls were dull yet a flair of lime scented disinfectant lingered in the air proving the room to have been recently cleaned. Honestly, with the amount the man down the reception was charging, this was literally the bare minimum. Or maybe not.

“I should’ve asked him if he had any spare gas.” Eren grumbled, pushing your bags to one corner of the room.

“Tomorrow you can,” You muttered, taking off your socks as you hummed the music of a distant song softly. Not letting yourself ponder on the negativities as much, you laid down on the bed. Enough had happened today, you didn’t need a reminder or to know any more what ifs of the situation. A sign of utter relief left your lips as soon as your body made contact with the sheets. Achieving one night’s peace in this atrocity is more than enough.

Eren, however, had other plans in mind.

Like you, he made himself comfortable on the bed as well.

“Did that bitch finally get off your shoulders?”

That caused a twist of your lips, “Nope, she’s still here.”

“Sure.” His deep voice rang in your ears and you were painfully aware of your proximity. “Wonder how she’s going to get off then?”

“Well, I don’t know,” You mused, turning your body towards him. His turquoise eyes sparkled with an underlying idea for the situation. An idea you loved. A ghost of a smirk curved on the corner of his lips and you didn’t deter from trailing your well-manicured nail down his chiselled jaw. “You tell me.”

The suggestiveness of the act didn’t elude him.

A second later, both of you were locking lips.

.

Levi hated his job.

No, he wasn’t a god damn receptionist. He was the owner of this motel – a legacy or more like a burden passed to him by his only, late relative, Kenny. And shitty Kenny had some fucked up fantasies swivelling in his head and that’s why he just happened to put up CCTV in the rooms. That was enough for him to lose any sort of respect he harboured for the man until he the reasons for his relatives depravity was laid bare before him.

The story goes like this:

Apparently, his uncle had some pals from the secret police department of Paradis and those fuckers were tracking some hefty politician who went by the name of Rod Reiss. The latter was responsible for smuggling armament and carbines to Marley – the information to the police forces by one of the members of his smuggle party. The catch? Arresting Rod wasn’t a child’s play. From the vague news, the police were sure of one thing – the deals happened in low and cheap motels like these. Hence, to catch the bastard red handed, the forces reached out to Kenny who was the, then owner, of this motel. Kenny was more than ready to get his hands dirty as if he got a thrill out of expeditions such. Ensuing miniscule cameras in the few rooms had done the job. Of course, Rod was arrested. Of course, Kenny spat on his face.

Of course, Levi was annoyed to hell when he first encountered footages he didn’t wish to encounter.

Nevertheless, that tale had unfolded long ago and Kenny hadn’t got rid of the cameras. As for Levi, he was least bothered to what happened in the rooms. Therefore, he didn’t deactivate them either.

Never will the devices prove useful to Levi. Or so he thought.

Barely dressed in a pair of black lingerie, the thin material did little to contain your perky breasts and your hardened nipples poked the fabric as Eren palmed you through your underwear. You breathily moaned while his mouth was pressed on yours in a heated kiss.

Levi’s fingers twinged ever so slightly as he watched the open pornopraphy on his personal computer screen. In the privacy of his room, he wasn’t doing very good breaching his customer’s privacy. Well, he could care less about that. In his defence, he couldn’t help his cock from straining in his briefs when the straps of your bra slid down your shoulders revealing a tantalizing pair of tits. Throat began to dry up as soon as your boyfriend pulled down you’re the last garment on your body.

Slick ran down your pussy, and Eren wasted no second in plunging two of his fingers inside your soaking cunt. Your back arched almost involuntarily, the need to feel any sort of friction increasing by second. He curled his digits inside you, velvet walls clamping at the intruder and the lubrication only made it easier for him to twist and toy with your needy cunt.

It was as if Levi’s body had a mind on its own as the next event unfolded. Spreading his legs wide, he reached down to grasp the painful bulge. That provided little relief. He bet you tasted just as much intoxicating akin to the whiff of your perfume he caught – the first thing he noticed about you.

Eren bend down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue on the areolas while he fondled with the other tit. His touch igniting a hoard of sensations on your body as your toes curled with your head thrown back. He rubbed circles over your clit, the ridges of his knuckled brushed against your pussy lips making it almost impossible for you to keep your voice low.

Shit! Unbuckling his belt, Levi pulled down his briefs – freeing his cock from cage. He grasped it by the base, blood rushing in the veins pulsated against the creases of his palm. “Ah- fuck!” He cursed under his breath, already feeling the precum ooze from his tip.

A sinfully loud whine left your mouth as Eren retracted his finger from your dripping folds. You buckled your hips, trying to press your legs together for the just any amount of touch but he managed to keep your legs spread wide for him.

“Patience baby,” Eren smirked, discarding his briefs as he pushed you further on the bed. Grabbing a condom from his trousers, he tore it open with his teeth before putting it over his length. He spat into his hands, pumping his entire length a few times before positioning himself on your entrance, “Ready baby?”

You nodded and he shoved himself inside you.

“Fuck! Fuck!” Levi cursed out loud, stroking his entire length with an intensity and fervour even unseen by him. The hormones flowed in his veins ceremoniously and violent, a sheen of sweat was forming over his forehead, some dripping to his cheeks from his bangs. His mouth was wide open as he watched the erotegenic display between you and your boyfriend. His swollen cock rested against his hand which was busy in providing it with its much needed gratification. He could hear your wanton moans from his earphones; each moan of yours incited a groan from him.

Your legs quivered as Eren placed your limbs over his shoulders, causing him to reach deeper inside your cavern. His tip rubbed against your g-spot and you rolled your eyes back, the orgasm building up with each of his heavenly thrusts as he swayed your body like a sex doll. Your perky breasts jostled with each thrust of his hips, sweat glistening over the skin while he continued to grind his hips against yours. Quite literally. He wasn’t even pulling out at one point just setting a pace to create a narrow friction and he continued to sputter absolute filth down your ears.

The live porn only coaxed Levi into building his orgasm as he stroked his cock quicker than the last time. Vehemently, he circled his thumb over the swollen tip – almost crying out loud at the sudden increase of pleasure shooting in his abdomens. He gritted his teeth while he watched just how you were digging your nails on Eren’s back, chanting his name like a mantra. You were just being fucked stupid on screen and he was rendering himself stupid while he fist fucked his shaft.

Eren reached down to pinch your enlarged clit and that was all it took – you yelled his name, so loud so clear that someone can just hear you if they listen close enough. The pleasure washed over you like a tide while you squeezed your eyes shut letting the orgasm wear off. Eren continued to grind into you following suit as he burst his seed inside the sheath before pulling out of you.

As for Levi, he was sure he could hear your shriek down to his room even without the headphones. He threw his head back, eyes squinting shut as he felt himself reaching his climax – coating his fingers with his hot release. From the ear piece he could hear the muffled conversations and ragged breathing between you and your boy toy. After giving himself a minute of rest, he detached the cord of his computer from the point. Looking down at the mess he created, a disgustful scowl made itself etch on his mien.

He clicked his tongue, “Fuck! I am filthy.”

.

Fortunately, Eren was able to get some spare gas from the man in the reception. It may only be a trick of mind but did the latter rest his eyes on you more than a second longer?

Nevertheless, you reached home safely.

.

Six days later, you received a parcel.

A small brown cardboard box, precisely taped and packed when it reached your door. Unknown sender. You were contemplating that if you had received someone else’s parcel. However, curiosity got the best of you and opening the package, you were greeted with a black pendrive.

Plugging it in your laptop, you clicked the only video file it had.

One minute in the said video and your blood ran cold.

Two minutes in the said video and you were hysterically crying.

Completed with the said video, a text popped up.

Thank you for spending one night at the Ackerman’s.

See you soon.

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Possession

Gale x F! Sorcerer Tav

18+ enemies to lovers (sort of), antagonistic relationships, crossed signals, misunderstanding, physical roughness, rivalry/jealousy, mean domGale, rough sex, manhandling, semi-public sex, consensual voyeurism, light humiliation, masturbation (m!), fingering (f!), oral (f!), face sitting, p-in-v, pulling out

With natural challenge and charge between them and a misstep at connection, an unexpected competitor appears in camp. Things come to a burning head between sorcerer and wizard...

Masterlist

-

Magic ran through her body. It was deep inside her bones, a force she could not reason with even if she tried. As vital as breath.

So as Gale explained Weave to her, she rested her chin on a curled hand. Giving him a highly bemused smile that he was entirely unaware of.

"The simplicity that Magic of the Weave - An Introduction supplies is quite misleading. Though those unfamiliar must start somewhere, I suppose." He held the small tome up in demonstration, letting it fall flat in his palm to a page he had affixed a colored tab to.

"Like here!"

He began reading aloud a passage, Tav smiling wider at the unconscious raise of his pointed finger.

"While that is accurate," He snapped the book shut, turning to look at her. "To distill the Weave so crudely down to a new student is akin to stealing their capacity for wonder. So much of the power of the Weave is in its limitless beauty, to rend it so small is a disservice."

"Not all spellcasters experience magic in such a profound way as you do." She offered, that bite of jest falling back into her words.

"Ah, I've forgotten." He sighed, leveling her with a withering stare. "I'm speaking to a sorcerer."

She felt her smile widen even further.

"And I'm speaking to a wizard. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you kiss those books to sleep at night."

His ears filled with blush, pulling the tome off of his lap and setting it with an annoyed thump on an ever growing pile.

"As I've said, no sense of wonder." He sniped.

This was a dance they did. He would talk her through a concept she was already familiar with and, inevitably, get frustrated with her teasing. But he kept coming back, a new topic, a new book, to dissect to her. A dog with a bird in its teeth.

"I really do think it's sweet. Your love for your craft. Maybe you'll be a teacher one day, you clearly have a knack for it." She sighed out her last words in a mock weariness.

"Though I could argue I experience magic just as deeply as you do, wizard. Maybe I should be the one giving you lectures."

His eyes seemed to light at the thought, turning to her expectantly.

"No," she raised her hands. "I'm not going to be the one to break that hopeful glint in your eyes. My relationship with my magic is not nearly as fulfilling."

He stared at her, stubborn. Turning fully towards her, eyes held in unwavering interest.

"You're very irritating." She stated.

He scoffed.

"I'm well aware. But go on, enlighten me."

She gave an exaggerated eye roll, then fell quiet. Bowing her head in concentration, allowing the slow closing of her eyes.

The sound of rustling fabric next to her as he leaned forward.

As she focused in on her power, the sensation, the fluid of it, she felt it rise along her body. Lifting the ends of her hair, air crackling with chill. She leaned her head back, feeling the delicious cold move up her spine.

Speaking in a hushed, vulnerable voice.

"It's ice water in summer. It's the chill of early morning. It's the plunge of a hand into a cool river."

Her eyes slid open, her gaze falling back on her hands. Now alight with glacial magic.

"It's the hunger of winter. It's the icy maw that swallows the unprepared. It's the frigid grip on skin, stealing breath away. Lulling so sweetly into sleep, burning alive."

She stared at the curl of her palm, frost lines traveling in slow pulses down the valleys of her veins.

"What you call Weave I know as blood. Inescapable and as giving as a blizzard. It's not about learning, it's about controlling."

Her eyes finally rose to his and found him scribbling in the front leaf page of Magic of the Weave. Looking up at her expectantly, his hand pausing as she fell quiet.

"Are you... writing this down?" She stared at him in disbelief.

He looked down at his pen, then back up at her, innocent confusion tilting his head. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"By Drizz't's Blades, can you not be an academic for one second?" She huffed, rising to feet.

"Just like a wizard, you bear your wounds and their taking notes. Gods."

He looked at his work again, his own frustration creasing his brows. Opening his mouth to surely argue.

"Save it." She held her hand up flat. "You've got your research. Frigid drow is a compelling footnote in your paper. Goodnight, Gale."

Her feet took her away on frosted grass. Hands clenching at her sides, ice cresting over knuckles. Feeling his eyes following her back.

Turning the corner on the largest crimson tent.

"Karlach! I need thawing!"

-

"You know he didn't mean it like that."

Karlach's blistering hand rubbed in circles along the ice holding her bare back. Melting it down only to have new sheets bloom behind her hand.

"I dont know that." Tav hissed, the tight hurt in her chest speaking.

"Oh, come on. He's far too sweet on you to be studying you like an experiment."

"He's not."

"He is. Hells, Tav, it's obvious."

Tav rose her legs to her chest, leaning on her knees. Pushing her chin into the curve of her folded forearms. Angry tears spiking her eyes, quickly turning to frozen rain pooling.

"That's just how wizards are, mate. They digest the world through books. If anything, it was a massive compliment that he was taking notes."

She picked at the seam along her knee. Turning her head into the fold of her arms with a shaky sigh. Focusing on Karlach's heat to bring her body back down from the threatening squall.

"I just want to be..."

She tried to gather her words, but an angry lump sat frozen in her throat.

"I know, baby. You want to be understood. But that shit hurts."

Tav nodded, reaching back to squeeze Karlach's knee.

"Thank you." She sighed, ice water slipping down her temple and the curve of her nose.

"Of course, Frost. Elemental bitches gotta stick together."

Tav let out a wet laugh, chill air leaving her in a burst.

Leaving her tent, she gave Karlach's shoulder one more grateful squeeze. Misty eyed again, seeing how happily she pulled a frozen Clive to her chest. Her spell set to last through the night.

Though her ice was often a burden, it was setting up to be a sweltering night. Passing by each tent, she tapped on canvas. Setting the temperature down with an incantation, hearing grateful sighs and soft thank you's from within as she made a loop. Slipping a bottle of cooled blood into crimson canvas, chilled fingers taking it eagerly.

She eyed the deep turquoise tent, soft light still dancing inside. Sighing, she stepped forward on quiet feet. Stopping to kneel down and straighten the piles of books that he had haphazardly left.

Crouched on haunches, she rose her hand. Pressing a cold palm into canvas. Giving him a little extra in silent apology.

Hearing no acknowledgment outside of a pausing of movement, she rose back on feet.

"Goodnight, Gale." She hushed.

Turning back to the lone point of her black tent, at the lowest slope of their small world. Faded with scrubbed away symbols of Lolth. Smiling at Minthara's tent opposite hers.

Her fellow drow laid inside, leaned back on her hammock. Sharpening a dagger with the precision of a practiced war matron.

Giving her an affirming nod as she cooled her tent.

"I'm retiring for the night." Tav spoke in Undercommon, the words sliding out so much more natural. Minthara respoding in kind.

"I'll take watch." Rising from her lounge, she sat her dagger back with a snap. Heading up the slope.

"Rest well, sister."

Finally alone, she entered her tent. Content to wallow in her sharp hurt.

As she settled, lighting a candle, pulling a spidersilk robe around her waist, a new shape revealed beneath her pillow.

She cut her eyes, picking up a tome.

Impractical Magic, Volume 1.

Another sat beneath it.

Book of Poetry.

She flipped through them. A beginner's book, written by a wizard, about the nature of elemental sorcery and a small book of poems. Recognizing her own speech patterns from her attempt at explanation earlier in the prose.

She shot to feet, angry chill rising through her neck. The books gripped in her fist.

Ripping aside turquoise canvas. Casting Private Sanctum on his tent as she stormed inside. Tossing the books at his feet.

"Are you mocking me?"

He glanced at the books, eyes rising to hers. Turning his head in that maddening tilt.

"You have wildly misunderstood my intentions."

Her hands twitched into fists again, breathing hard through the frost.

"Okay, then dumb it down for me since you're so superior. My meager education couldn't possibly rise to the occasion."

He rose to feet, his breathing picking up with hers.

"Why do you keep inferring that I find you lacking? How have I made that impression?"

She nearly screamed, biting her icy tongue. Turning from him to face the tent wall as furious tears rose again.

"Hey, don't turn away. I'm trying to understand!"

His hand pulled on her bicep, and it snapped a fracture in her frozen lake.

Wrenching his wrist, she forced his arm behind his back. Flipping him to the ground, knee pressed into his spine. Taking his hair in a tight bunch, forcing his head into a turn on his pillow.

He gasped, his back arching into her hold. Body so unbearably warm beneath hers.

"Don't touch me." She commanded. Pressing her knee harder.

He tried to nod, but her fist held harder into his hair. A soft moan left him, hips rising into a curl.

"Don't go into my tent again. Or I will do far worse than this."

"Is that a promise?" He gasped.

She raised her lip in a snarl. Lowering her head down to his ear, hissing into the well.

"You're too soft and warm to talk back, wael faern. Or do I need to show you that?"

"I'd love a demonstration, if you don't mind."

She smiled dangerously, pinning his arm under her knee. Hand snapping down on the side of his throat.

He breathed hard under her constricting fingers, eyes fluttering up into lids as her cold tongue drug up the curve of his ear.

She pressed the full freeze of her body into his back, chuckling darkly as he shivered.

"Too cold? I thought so."

Rising off of him with a shove, she twisted her fingers into her magic. Glaring down as he turned to stare flushed at her.

"Enjoy the heat."

With a pull, she removed her chill on the tent. The air filling sweltering again as she ducked out into the night.

-

"No Gale today?" Astarion clicked his tongue in mock disappointment. Shouldering his pack to accompany her.

"No. I'd rather not see him." She responded in a clipped voice.

"Cold." He lilted. "But I do so enjoy that about you."

Karlach and Minthara met them at the crest of the trail. Blue light still bathing the sleeping world.

"Any reason we're heading out so early, soldier?"

"She's avoiding her kicked puppy."

"Do you want to stay back, Astarion? I'm sure you could use the beauty rest."

"Would you like me to educate the spawn on manners, sister?"

"Gods, I'm going to hate you two together."

Her eyes darted back to the distant point of camp. Seeing a soft light ignite inside his tent.

"Enough talk. Head out."

-

"Shadowheart! To me!" Tav called.

Rolan moaned out what sounded like 'Where are we?' His eyes rolling loose in sockets as he coughed.

"My camp, we're not close enough to Last Light. Now focus on breathing." She hitched his arm higher over her shoulder.

Minthara took up his other side, face stoic.

"Shadowheart! We have wounded!" Tav called again, eyes tracking around the camp.

She rushed down the hill, hands lit in magic. Potions gathered under her arm.

"Injuries?" She urged, Tav and Minthara laying him on a soft patch of grass. Halsin came up behind Tav, his hand coming to Rolan's forehead. The other braced on her back as he kneeled down.

"Shadow wraiths. The curse almost got him." Karlach gasped, running up to the gathered help.

"He's very near death." Halsin urged, hand lighting along his forehead. "Something's wrong, he's burning up."

Tav leaned back and whipped off her robe, kneeled in her underclothes.

"Lift him." She instructed. Halsin appraising her with an impressed glint.

The druid lifted him easily into a slump.

"What's going on?" Gale's voice rose over their heads.

Tav arched her thigh around Rolan's lap, taking up his weight into her shoulder. Her chest pressed to his, she snaked her hand inside of his robe and untied it at the waist. Letting it fall back as she spread her hands on his bowed back and pressed into him.

Halsin and Shadowheart took up at his sides in front of her. Speaking healing magic into his body.

"Breath, faern." She hushed, pulling him to her.

Rolan's breath filled and emptied shallowly against her neck. Burning into her skin.

"I'm going to get colder now, take a deep breath." She warned in a soft voice.

She focused her temperature down, feeling him try to pull away weakly.

"Good, that's good." Halsin encouraged, spreading a hand between hers. "He's stabilizing."

Rolan whimpered into her shoulder, arms coming up to grip into her back. Body shaking with cold and frustration. Tears hidden in the fall of her hair.

"I know, I know." She hummed, hands running through his long hair. "You're alive. Feel your anger."

Rolan wouldn't leave her side, even after his body had cooled. Leaning his head in exhausted shame.

"We'll head out for Last Light, first thing in the morning." Tav instructed, her gathered companions nodding. The fire burning low between them.

"Return Rolan to his family and secure the whereabouts of Oliver. We should search where we last saw him."

Rolan's head rose, staring down at her.

"Family?"

"Yes, we found your siblings in the prison at Moonrise. They were on their way back to you when we found you."

His eyes filled with tears again.

"You saved them?"

She nodded, then was taken into him.

He pressed a kiss into her lips, hands cupping her face in desperate joy. Pulling away with spilling tears.

"Thank you." He breathed.

She smiled up at him.

"No trouble."

Rolan smiled back, then turned his head. His eyes widened in confusion, then settled into a cold stare.

Tav followed his gaze.

Gale sat across from Rolan, glaring dark under his brow at him. Fingers digging on his thighs.

"Something you'd like to share?" Rolan chided, tilting his head in a slow challenge.

"Oh, not presently. After all, your health is far too important." Gale's voice came out in a low warning.

The air crackled with malice. A silent combat taking place between eyes.

"Gods, you wizards are like fish too close in a pond. Get over yourselves." Shadowheart scoffed, rising to feet.

"I'll set you up in my tent tonight." Tav turned to back to Rolan. "I'll occupy myself elsewhere."

"I'm sure there's enough room for the two of us." Rolan purred, eyes lighting in petty accomplishment as the shadow darkened next to them.

"And I'm sure you'll freeze to death."

"Mmm, I'm still a mite warm, actually."

Gale rose to feet, shoulders hard with effort.

"Tav, a word?"

"My tent is there." She pointed down the slope, rising to feet. "Get some rest. We have a long walk come morning."

Gale came to her side, rushing forward. Caging her body forward with his own. Fast steps forcing her body to a brisk walk.

His hand came up to pull on her wrist, finding her pace not removing them quickly enough.

"I will end you." She promised, his hand falling away with a huff.

"Okay, we're beyond the treeline. I think we're far enough from the wizard I just helped."

She crossed her arms, leveling an unamused stare at him.

"What do you want to say?"

"Why did he just kiss you?" Gale hissed. Ducking his head down low to her.

"Ask him. I haven't detected his thoughts."

"That's not funny."

"It wasn't a joke."

He huffed breath hard, chest heaving. Eyes burning.

"You're impossible." He growled.

"I'm a drow. Bitch comes free." She tilted her head up at him. A mean glint in her eyes.

"Why? Are you jealous, wizard?"

His back bristled, eyes widening in contained rage.

"Do you need healing, too? Do you have wounds for me?" She stepped forward in a challenge. "Show me where it hurts, and I'll lick it better."

He held his ground, and she stepped forward again. Egging him on.

"Come on. You're clearly angry with me." She smiled. "Spit your venom."

"I'm not angry with you."

"No?" She stepped into him.

"Then why are you so warm?"

His eyelids lowered into a grimace, panting as she pressed into him.

They breathed into each other's space, his hands arching in hard clenches at his sides.

"Then what are you feeling towards me, Gale?" She hissed, staring into his dark eyes.

He finally snapped, crashing his mouth into hers.

His mouth pushed, desperate and mean. Wide hand gripping into the back of her hair. Breathing hard through nose. Tangling into her in angry pulls. Demanding fingers pulling at her clothes.

She pulled out of her robe, ripping into his ties. Disrobing him with the same aggression. Pressing her body hard into his in rolling waves. His heat battling her rising cold.

"Down." He growled into her swollen lips. Pulling her by the hips roughly to the forest floor.

"I don't take orders from you." She breathed, falling under his body.

"Shut up." He hissed, pulling her bralette down to her ribs in a hard yank.

Mouth diving on a hard peak.

Her back curled up in pleasure, gripping into his hair.

He lapped at the buds, playing mean fast strokes that he pulled up into his lips. Sucking in hard popping pulses.

Her head arched back, panting into the grass. Cunt flooding with slick, hips arching up into the tone of his belly.

He forced his hand between them, cupping her cunt and pushing her hips hard into the earth.

"I'm going to make you regret kissing him." He promised in a dangerous rumble. Eyes glaring up at her in dark slits.

"Do it, then." She breathed, her eyes burning ice.

"I dare you."

He ripped her panties off, eyes smoldering anger. Wrenching under her thighs and lifting her hips high into the air. Forcing her thighs onto his shoulders, holding her up by her ass.

She cried out into her palm when his mouth latched onto her clit. Pulling vicious wet suckles, his arm locking behind her hips as they tried to squirm away. The pleasure near unbearable, his anger leaving her merciless.

Her shoulders writhed on the grass, hips trying to give out. He cracked his hand down on her ass twice, rising her hips back up with a growl.

Her eyes rolled marble in her head as he took her apart, gasping shallow breaths. Already a shameful mess. Delirious with wrenching pleasure.

Frost spread across her belly, orgasm circling dangerously tight. Muffling pleading moans in her throat, coming out as choking whimpers.

He laughed into her cunt, dragging his nails hard down her thigh to get her to gasp her mouth open. Leaving pink scratches in his wake.

Her mouth fell open, the pain pushing her pleasure into an unrelenting high. Gasping out in Undercommon.

"What was that?" He murmured, pulling back to stare down her belly at her.

She glared at him, tightening her thighs around his head in warning.

"No, no, use-" He sucked hard on her clit in hollow pulls of his tongue, her thighs falling back open in a shudder. "-your words."

"Fuck you." She hissed.

"Not what you said." He retorted, pushing two fingers inside her without warning.

She twisted, cunt clenching hard on his fingers. Hooking into punishing slow strikes.

He slapped her ass again. Demanding an answer.

"I said-"

She clamped around his head, twisting him down to the ground. Straddling over his face.

"Rip me apart, wizard."

His eyes lowered into dangerous slits. Grasping her by both hips, forcing her cunt into his mouth again.

She shuddered as he latched back on in near biting pulses. Completely engulfing her clit. Reaching up to pull on her throat, forcing her into an arch forward to push his fingers back inside. Slamming into her beneath, sending jolts up through her pelvis.

She gripped into his hair, face crumpling in desperate pleasure. Hand cupped over her mouth to not shriek.

His eyes cut to the edge of the trees. Pulling her hand down by the forearm and forcing it behind her back.

Her eyes followed, rocking with the force of his fucking.

Rolan stood wide-eyed on the edge a tree, hard cock in his hand.

Gale's hand spread up over her hips and belly in clear petty possession. Cupping her breast, pinching her nipple between his long fingers. Rubbing his nose in it.

Tav couldn't take it anymore, being displayed like this pushing her over the edge. Body buckling as she came hard into his mouth.

He grasped onto her hips, quickly forcing her onto her belly. Cock pushing inside her in a viciously savoring thrust.

She cried out into the dirt, her orgasm still in its throes. Clenching hard onto him, his breath hissing out with his thrusts. Rocking her forward in hard snaps.

"Look at him." He whispered, lifting her head by a pull of her hair. Winding it into his fist.

Her glazed eyes locked with Rolan's. Both of them aghast with shameful pleasure.

"See how much he wants this?" He hissed low into her ear. "Poor thing, he can't touch you. Not like I can."

As if to demonstrate, he circled his fingers hard into her clit.

She curled her head in, hands clawing at the dirt. Choppy begging cries smothered as a second orgasm threatened.

"Gale, I'm-" She pleaded, hips rising higher as it climbed. His hips slamming faster into her backside in response.

It ripped through her, sending her whole torso into shuddering spasms. Back arching down into the dirt as her cum pushed out to drip down his thighs.

Her wrenching contractions forced him to his end. Hand bracing on her shoulder. Pulling out to spill on her lower back, gasping shallow as his pleasure dripped down her spine.

She heard Rolan's muffled release and looked over, seeing his eyes flutter back into his head.

Gale was a preening exhausted shadow behind her. Rolling her ass in his palms in pure accomplished revelry.

She heard Rolan scurry away towards camp. Gale huffing out a righteous laugh.

"Oh, he's going with the others in the morning."

Tav nodded, too fucked out to regain her role as leader. Pliant and loose under his command.

"And you're going to stay with me tonight." He smiled dangerously, clearly enjoying having tamed her.

"Yes, saer." She sighed.

"Oh, do keep talking like that. You're going to be wonderfully obedient, aren't you?"

~

[jiminjamms]

sex therapy :: 21. daddy toji

chapter tags/warnings: **can be read as a stand-alone!** daddy toji, in every sense of the word. toji also calls himself daddy. unprotected sex. creampies. megumi is down the hall! masturbation. exhibitionism. toji likes that it’s his cousin’s wife that he’s fucking. infidelity/adultery. possessiveness. sexual frustration. degradation. praising. pet names (‘princess’ and ‘sweetheart’). manipulative undertones. family drama. strong language.

word count: 3.6k

notes: tattooed dr. fushiguro can only be a gentleman for so long when it's his little cousin's wifey around. likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

“Why don’t you give daddy a show?”

Nothing could make you feel more exposed than this very moment on Toji Fushiguro’s bathroom counter—your bosom heaving from irregular breaths, your arms holding up your body, and your legs spreading across the granite surface so that you could offer up a good view. So that you could put your naked self on display. 

Just for him. Just for your sex therapist.

Just for Dr. Fushiguro.

You gulped while pressing your back against the cold ceramic walls, hoping for some relief from your impending humiliation. “E-Excuse me?” 

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Toji crooned, and the pet name had your heart skipping a beat. Lazily, he dragged a lone finger from your stomach to your center, prodding right at your soaking entrance despite your efforts to shrink away. “Don’t be shy. I’m just your therapist. Let me see what you’ve learned.” 

With much endearment, he watched you writhe. Being in the spotlight scared you, but he knew you would hate to disappoint. 

At the very least, you should demonstrate some appreciation. 

“Like what?” you asked, voice barely above a squeak.

“Well,” and amusement riddled his grin, “show daddy what he had taught you, baby.”

And goodness did all this daddy talk really turn you on. Toji could see how your figure tensed at the words, how you clenched around nothing from sheer need. (Did you think he would not notice?)

“Please,” you sighed, poorly hiding how your breath hitched. “Please don’t call yourself that.”

“Call myself what?”

Obviously a rhetorical question, yet Toji loved the bafflement on your ditzy face nevertheless.

“You know…‘daddy,’” you murmured, uncomfortable to the point you were staring at the floor as you spoke. “Because as someone who loves my dad, and hearing this from someone who actually is a dad, I find the name…disturbing.”

Disturbing but also hot, and Toji could tell. 

“Don’t lie, princess. You like when I call myself that,” he chuckled. Pinching at your waist, he chortled in that same giddy manner whenever he felt particularly amused. “So, who’s going to be daddy’s obedient little girl?”

He noticed that you were doing that thing again whenever you were a little nervous: pursing your lips into a quivering pout and twisting at the meaningless rings on your fourth digit. Too loyal for your own good. Maybe that was what Naoya really loved about you, enough to keep you as his cute little trophy wife. 

Swallowing loudly, in the end, you responded, “Me.”

Using one uneven breath to center yourself, your hands steadily grazed over your hips and your thighs before your dear fingers rested above your clit. Nothing could beat the embarrassment from how you flinched at your own contact. 

Here went nothing. 

Timidly, you drew your middlemost fingers through your folds and circled the digits around your entrance. The opening was warm, sensitive, and utterly soaked. The slick that had slipped past those puffy lips allowed you to push one, and then two fingers inside as your back arched gently at the stimulation. 

A dull pleasure started to thrum in your body especially as you brought your ample juices back in using slow, deliberate motions.

To much frustration, your dainty digits couldn’t quite stroke that special spot within you with much expertise. Why wasn’t Toji helping? You wanted him to help. But, if you didn’t think too hard, you could lose yourself in the sensuality of your ministrations and imagine Toji’s fingers curling inside you instead. His fingers were larger and thicker and longer, after all. 

While Toji’s true emotions had always been as mystifying as the man himself, never had that troubled you more than now. Those steely green eyes had been staring at you for what felt like hours now. 

Did he like what he saw? Did he want more?

The people pleaser within you was just looking for a reaction—any reaction—to validate the hard and honest work you were putting in. 

“Good kitty,” he complimented suddenly, as though he had been reading you like an open book all along. He did not realize since when, but he had begun stroking his cock through his pants. 

How could he not? You had been listening so well, and his free hand reached down to rub tight circles at your puffy clit. 

“Toji!” you shrieked immediately, body caving in. 

“Keep going, sweetheart,” he commanded, dipping his index and middle fingers in as well, his thumb still drawing tight movements at your precious button.

His fingers slid against yours, aided by the thick coat of arousal that lubricated the movements, and his dick twitched from excitement, a situation exacerbated when he relished in the way you angled your hips to accommodate all four fingers plunging into your sopping cunt.

“Don’t stop working on yourself.” 

“I won’t,” you struggled to whimper. 

“This is nice, isn’t it? When someone else is touching you, too.” His statement was softened by the same tone he liked to use when playing that ‘friendly neighborhood sex therapist’ role. “Your fingers are delicate, but they can’t reach all the places mine can, can they?” 

“No, they can’t,” you breathed out in helpless agreement, shaking pathetically at the combined ministrations. “Everything feels better when you are the one finger fucking me.”

Toji hummed deeply in satisfaction. “I know, princess.” 

He lowered his head to press his lips into your jaw, but the subtle softness in his searing kisses convinced you to tilt your head gently and bring your unoccupied hand up to run up his hard triceps and dig into the jet-black ink peeking from his sleeves. 

In response, Toji sank his teeth into your skin every so often, eliciting your squeals. 

Painful. Yes, this was painful.

But more than painful, the gush that flooded your veins was fucking phenomenal.

“What’s wrong?” Toji asked innocently, biting harder as your nails pressed visible crescent marks into his tattoos. “I only want to taste you,” and he soothed the sore spots by licking the assaulted areas, just to repeat the process on another target.

Pussy feeling empty but needy, you shifted on the countertop in order to grind desperately against your therapist’s clothed crotch.

“Please,” you mewled, now begging for Toji’s attention rather than cowering away. “Please fuck me.”

Funny.

Just an hour ago, you were bawling about your loser husband. Naoya Zenin this. Naoya Zenin that. Well, duh. Of course, his baby cousin was an asshole partner. 

Now, here you were, pleading for Toji Fushiguro’s cock?

Toji rewarded your change of heart with a deep kiss pressed on your lips, a gesture that you passionately reciprocated. Even as he devoured your mouth like a starved man, your tongue fought like a maniac into his mouth, satisfied sighs slipping from your lips to his. 

Only when there was an unexpected slam coming from Megumi’s door did you two pull away, faces only centimeters apart and connected by an almost translucent string of saliva. 

Toji panted, watching your chest rise and fall from similarly irregular breathing. 

If nothing else stopped him, he would be falling onto his knees right now from how dazed you appeared: face flushed, lips parted, and lids heavy. 

But both he and you had one concern in mind right now. 

Megumi. 

Given the sound earlier, Toji awaited footsteps from the younger Fushiguro. 

Was he grabbing a midnight snack from the kitchen downstairs? Was he planning to pace the halls to alleviate stress?

Or worse yet, was he heading to the bathroom?

If his son really did walk into this scene, discovering what his father was doing to his sweet and pretty guest several doors away, Toji would be speechless because the idea was purely mortifying. 

Also a little sexy.

But anyway.

“I’m sure he just closed and locked his door for the evening,” Toji deduced when the boy’s footsteps never came. 

Immediately, your shoulders slumped with ensuing relief.  

“Thank goodness,” you sighed, still tense and high-strung. “We don’t want Megumi to hear us,” you pointed out, completely oblivious to how loud you had been when merely kissing. “Let’s wait for him to sleep first. I don’t want us to get caught.” 

The way you cared this much was adorable. 

“Why would we have to wait, though?” Toji pointed out, and his tongue swiped over his scar. “I can be quiet. But the real question is: can you be quiet?” 

At first, you were stunned and silent.

But after a long while, you gulped and your neck bobbed noticeably. "Yeah. I…can be quiet, too.” 

“Good girl," and at that, Toji flashed a quick and lascivious grin. “Then, why don’t we test that out?”

Not waiting for your reply, he grabbed the collar of his white shirt and dragged the top off his shoulders.

His movements were slow, just so he could catch your marveling reaction as he revealed his bare torso, but the fabric had been too fitting and tight for his body anyway. 

As soon as he pulled his shirt over his head and off his body, your eyes locked on his body to admire his brawny and toned physique. But more stunningly was how Toji Fushiguro was a mural of tattoos, intricate artworks that had been carefully selected and embedded into his torso—stylized letters, entwined violets, and hyper-realistic scenery. What demanded the most attention, though, was a prominent phoenix that covered his right chest, emerging victorious from a plume of smoke and ashes, its feathers spanning into his shoulder and back. 

Easily, you were enchanted. You didn't have a chance to view his tattoos before. But Toji himself had always been enchanting.

“Come closer,” the man commanded, tone low and gravelly. He dragged his waistband down until his hardened dick sprang free with great force. His cock was swollen and red and violently angry, precum beading at the tip after he had long neglected himself from his release. "I’ve missed you."

You shifted forward on the countertop.

“Then do anything to me.”

Just to test you, he experimented a little, pinching your nipples with the knuckles of his fingers and smiling like a mad dog when you squeaked. "Anything?" 

"Yes," you breathed out, nodding and back arching into his touch. 

Obviously, you were too lost in arousal to comprehend the power placed into your tattooed therapist's hands, and Toji silently wished that Naoya Zenin could hear his wife begging for someone else like this. 

He patted your cheek and cooed. 

So silly, so cock drunk, so desperate.

That was what you were, and he wasn’t even inside you yet. 

You reached between your legs to grab at his dick, lining the tip up to your entrance as Toji groaned from the contact.

"How are you so wet for me?” he hissed, gritting his teeth hard. 

“Please, please, come on—” After a long bout of negligence, you had become incredibly whiny and desperate, seeking attention and affection like never before. “I’m too turned on. Just…please ruin me.”

Toji had been close to bursting already, but an intense flash stifled him when your words registered as music to his ears, his large hands helping you swipe his dick between your folds slowly. Teasing them both.

He had been well lubricated from the precum that slipped from the head, his massive cock so hard from the anticipation that awaited such that he could feel electricity buzzing at his fingertips. All because he couldn't handle himself when you begged for him like this. Yet, Toji resolved to fuck you with everything he had—for as long as he could, anyway—and slipped himself gradually into your warm and moist heat. 

Shudders.

All that filled the room were shudders.

Toji’s eyes darkened as he pressed through the tight resistance, your muscles squeezing around his length. He had to will every fiber within him to not lose himself. He was this close to falling apart, unraveling. Because holy shit, were you fucking tight. 

Beneath him, you suppressed a whimper. 

“Damn,” you sputtered, abandoning any remaining hesitation and clenching around him. Compared to his pathetic cousin, your therapist was not small by any means. "You feel so good inside of me, Toji."

Ah, hell.

He needed to get you to relax. He could barely move and, if your walls squeezed him any harder, he might just be hurled over the edge and cum all over your thighs, staining your freshly showered body. 

“Oh,” he managed to hum in contentment, closing his eyes momentarily so that he could shut down all other senses except for one. His arms wobbled a little, his hands digging hard into your sides as his hips moved slowly—very, very slowly—out before going back in again. 

At the languid thrusts, your head fell back and your hips lifted upon instinct, one hand pressed against the counter for stability as the other skimmed over his tattoos. He's so hot. You're so hot. He makes you feel so hot.

Toji growled again when your fingers brushed against the inked phoenix's wings, gliding over his pectoral muscle. He loved being touched like this and only wanted you to examine him more, rewarding you with movements wholly deep and stimulating.

As moans flowed freely from your mouth, Toji would tell you to shut up. After all, Megumi dwelled only a few doors away and must not be forgotten. But how could Toji bring himself to hush the sweet sounds that you sang?

“Yes, just like that,” you whined at some point, fingers clawing into his chest. “Fuck. Fuck, Toji.”

He raised a disapproving brow. “Just Toji?”

“Fuck, daddy.”

And Toji lost his fucking mind.

Since when did you talk like this? Pretty princess with a potty mouth. Who would’ve thought? It was sexy. So goddamn sexy. 

"You’re incredible,” he found himself saying. 

Toji had never been harder than he was at this moment, his cock like a fucking titanium rod as his listless movements degraded into an onslaught, throbbing and twitching as he replayed your dirty words in his head. 

He felt extraordinarily horny, aroused, and invigorated. 

Meanwhile, you looked like a fucking fairy—his fucking fairy, to be clear: features glowing golden under the ambient lights, pupils dilated and blown out wide, skin glistening from both water and sweat. 

Long ago, Toji figured that you had given up in your attempts to get away from him, the sole struggle from your body being how your walls involuntarily twitched and tensed amidst the storm of pleasure and pain he had brewing within your core. 

If only Toji had more hands. That way, he could simultaneously pull at your hair, wrap his fingers around your neck, and swat at your bouncing tits.

In a moment like this, he hated having to choose and grabbed your legs in the end, moving them from the counter to his shoulders. Toji could now go even deeper, and boy, did this new angle  have you seeing stars. 

“Oh, goodness,” you blubbered, coughing and drooling and panting. “Oh, that feels so good.”

“I know,” Toji said arrogantly.

Lucky for you, he was a mature man who could hold his load. Other boys didn’t know shit. If they were in his current position, they would have busted their nuts long ago, too impulsive and easily excited to exert much self-control. 

Toji, on the other hand, knew how to dig his fat cock into your cervix over and over, brushing that one special spot within you along the way. To make you scream. To keep you addicted. To take his cousin’s wife at his mercy.

The room filled with sounds that resulted from skin contacting skin—squelches and wet smacks—and you were left loud and messy, feeling so good that you could not think straight. 

“Shit, you’re so good to me. Can’t get enough of this pussy,” he grunted, hand pulling back before connecting with the meat of your ass with one loud  slap. 

You cried out, fighting back tears that welled from the pain. “That… hurts!”

“But my kitten loves being roughened up, no?” he taunted, licking at his scar again as he observed you: love bites littered over your neck, nipples perked into pebbles, skin marked and slightly bruised.

“I,” several huffs in between, “I can’t take this for much longer. I’m so close. I think I’m going to—”

“Only if you tell me who owns you.”

His words made you whine, and the therapist took great pleasure in the way you contorted. The demand had taken you by surprise because Toji had never denied you the right to your pleasure before. In fact, he had always been the type to coax you to cum, telling you to cream all over him instead.

Tonight, however, he wanted to set things straight. For a while, he had been thinking that he ought to buy you a collar just so you would remember who you actually belonged to—who really taught you what sex feels like—and heat tore through his skin again from the fantasy. 

Admittedly, Toji was a tad bit possessive. 

But he needed to drill into your head that you were not Sukuna’s or Choso’s or Geto’s. 

And most certainly, not  Naoya Zenin’s. 

“Well?” He was fully aware of what was happening and taking true delight in your futile struggle, knowing exactly what you needed but wanting you to obey him first. Snaking an arm around your body, he pressed his lips to the shell of your ear and purred, “Who knows how to fuck you right?”

“Toji Fushiguro does,” you chanted, lacing your fingers with his, your body in sheer pain from need. “Guys my age could never.”

Which was exactly what he wanted to hear.

“Then cum for me, baby.”

So, you did.

His permission sent you vaulting over the edge, your whole body spasming as your orgasm ripped through.

Your lips parted. Your cheeks hollowed. Your arms wavered.

Despite everything, you continued begging for his cock harder, faster, just like that. At some point, the hand once tangled with your therapist’s now slotted into your mouth to muffle any exclamations of pleasure as the waves continued to ripple fiercely through your body. Throwing your head back against the wall, you could dully feel your teeth puncture the skin between your thumb and pointer finger. Yet, that didn’t bother you, didn’t even hurt, and only served to add to your masochistic satisfaction as your cunt fluttered and clenched around him. 

“What a good girl.”

Toji was remorseless as he continued his abuse, the tendons of his hands and arms flexing from the effort needed to keep your lower body still, the tattoos on his wrists appearing pitch black under the glimmer of your juices. The wetness that spilled from you was so abundant, dripping down onto the floor. With any luck, once this was all over, you would have left a mess such that Toji would be forced to assign Megumi to bathroom cleaning duty in the morning.

"I'm gonna cum inside you, baby," was what he managed to say just as his gut suddenly tensed. He couldn't even control it. Without further warning, thick ropes of semen shot from him and into your womb. He grunted loudly, lurid fantasies dissipating as his mind went blank from his climax, his own groan hardly recognizable from how guttural his voice had become.

“Give me all your cum, daddy,” you wailed as you came again, pussy tightening impossibly on his cock and practically massaging every single drop out of him.

Toji was not done, he didn’t want to be done. 

Despite his blurred vision and terse jaw, Toji wanted to give you every ounce that he was worth. He gritted his teeth as he fucked up into you, pace irregular and sloppy. He made sure to push every possible milliliter of his seed deep into your stomach, the rest of his load spilling against his balls. 

His cock was far too sensitive and overstimulated, but he felt  so goddamn good that he wanted to keep going and going until he was completely spent with nothing more to give.

“Fuck,” he choked, on the brink of tears. 

Toji had to take a moment to recover fully, keeping his eyes closed while his chest heaved from the sheer exertion of his orgasm. His breathing was deep, wet, and haggard, and he was blistering hot even without clothes on. His slicked-back hair was soaked with sweat and hung limply in front of his flushed face. As he slumped over, he sensed a new pain in his shoulder, and he guessed that he must have strained something without noticing. Cum inevitably dribbled from your hole as he pulled out, splattering on the floor and mixing with your juices earlier.

He strode toward the bathroom closet, grabbing additional towels.

After wrapping them around you and himself, Toji brought you close to his frame and directed you into his bedroom diagonally across the hall. The rest of the night was quiet, especially since you both were consumed by exhaustion and post-coital haze. You rolled onto his canopied bed without sound, Toji lying next to you and pulling you snugly against his chest. After ensuring that you were okay, he kissed the sweet temple by your forehead and the bruises on your collar, smiling softly when you hummed in response. 

He could hardly recall the last time he had felt so warm and so content, wanting nothing more than to cling onto this moment for as long as he could. In the back of his head, his conscience scolded him harshly. He still owed you plenty of explanations. For how he had been hiding his family, his relationships, and his original motive in using you to help him get back at his enemies. 

Yet, as he pushed aside these intrusive thoughts and murmured to you ‘Goodnight,’ one thing became clear:

Toji Fushiguro was far too selfish to let you go.

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: This is my first time writing smut that comprehensively includes Toji’s POV. While we have always gotten Y/N's POV in sex, I wanted to include Toji's perspective so that we could get into his psyche a little since he's battling his own demons as well.

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @hinativity @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @piqer @nobody289x @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @vvestwoodrose @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @obitohno @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @blackdragoncigarette @puffaloxx @shoisae @sakanoshitaa @arizzu @kissditrio @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

[vminizzle]

Sex shop

pairing : bestfriend!jungkook x f.reader

genre : SMUT, fluff

warnings :masturbation, really bad description of sex shop & stuff (sorry), mention of sex toys (not used, maybe in part 2 who knows ;) hehe ), teasing, use of pet names, praising, marking, first time, love making, penetrative sex, unprotected sex ( wrap It up guys! ), creampie, slight cockwarming, THEY ARE CUTE UGH

best friends ͜͡➸ to lovers ♡

words count : 4.2k

A/N : pls I’m insane (the way I had to clean my search history) ,, sorry this is a whole mess. I don’t know what I had in mind when I started writing this. I spent ages on this fic and ngl it didn’t turn out how I wanted but I tried my best :). I wrote this there is a long time ago but I decided to edit it 💀 & sorry for my english.

FEEDBACKS ARE VERY WELCOMED

M RATED

“see you on monday!” you waved at Jungkook as he waved back driving away.

You sighed as you walk to your friend.

“so, today your boyfriend doesn’t walk you home?” she teased. 

“Jungkook is not my boyfriend“ you blushed slapping her arm playfully.

"please you guys are always together. like always! Studying, hanging out together, shopping, lunch.. Except when he’s working on the weekends. He even sleep at your house.. I’m asking myself what you guys do-”

You gasped slapping her arm lightly.

“what? Chaeyoung stop! don’t say non-sense, we’re just..best friends.” you retorted looking down.

“yea yea whatever.”

Chaeyoung and you walked to your house, eating ice creams on your way.

“so what you wanna do?” you asked unlocking the front door.

“let’s just do nothing.” you laughed nodding.

You were laying on your couch scrolling though your social networks lazily when Chaeyoung suddenly jumped on you.

“Yo look at this!” she shoved her phone to your face.

“what is it?”

“it talks about masturbation.” she explained.

“and what about it?” you asked confused.

“I read that some women masturbate with water pression.” your cheeks heated up at her sudden burst.

“w-why are you even reading this?” you handed her the phone back.

“ just saw a girl from our promo repost this article.” she shrugged.

“that’s really suprising. I mean I’ve never thought about masturbation with water pression. Like I mean, using toys are easier no?” you looked at her eyes wide open.

“oh my god stop!” you threw a pillow at her face as she caught it midway laughing.

“wait! Don’t tell me you don’t masturbate, do you?” you hesitated before answering.

“i-it’s kind of personal.” you muttered.

“ugh stooooop we’re friends.. except you rather talk about it with your "best friend.” she wiggled her eyebrows teasingly.

“Can you just stop with him?“ you groaned.

“so tell me.” she whined shaking your arm repeatedly.

“well, yea.. like every other teenagers.” you cleared your voice making her grin.

“how many toys do you have?” she asked curiously.

“ok enough! this is so embarrassing.” you whined.

“not at all.” finally letting go of your arm as she grab her soda can on the glass table in front of you both.

“i don’t own any...” you muttered.

Chaeyoung chocked in her soft drink “you don’t?!” you shook your head.

“I don’t need it so.. yea.”

She stared at you silently for awhile.

“you should buy one.”

“why?“ you laughed awkwardly.

“it’ll be a new experience, another level of pleasure. And maybe it’ll please you more than your fingers or whatever."

How can she talks so openly? you thought.

“i know a great little sex shop not so far from here!” she exclaimed.

“you should check it out!”

“I’ll think about it.” you said, wanting this conversation to end.

❁ — •*:｡✩

You furrowed your eyebrows, bottom lip caught between your teeth, the pressure on your clit making you feel frustrated.

Your legs spread wide open, fingers going in and out of you slowly to tease you a bit.

Rubbing little circles with your thumb on the throbbing nerve trying to stimulate you a bit more.

10 minutes. 10 fucking minutes that you were trying to make yourself cum.

You didn’t know if you were too tense, stressed or exhausted but these days you couldn’t make yourself reach your highs. You groaned and gave up as you sigh annoyed getting up to wash your hand.

—

Later, you smiled as you sat on the edge of your bed, noticing a message from your best friend on your phone.

[20:42] kook : just arrived home, I hope you spent a nice afternoon. You’re probably sleeping or watching something on Netflix without me :( 

[20:44] y/n : hey yes i did. How was work? nahh I’m gonna sleep. wanna wait for you next week to watch our serie :)

[20:45] kook : work was alright. ohhh that’s my girl hehe can’t wait for next week then!

[20:47] y/n : nice then. You’re working all day tomorrow ?

[20:48] kook : yea unfortunately I’m working all day :(

[20:49] y/n : ughh!! good luck for tomorrow. Go take a bath and rest idiot. 

[20:51] kook: thanks princess! Sleep well too love ya ♡ 

[20:53] y/n : hehe love you too ♡

You let your body fell back on the mattress, smiling like an idiot at the small conversation.

Jungkook could always make you smile without even trying.

Noticing a early message from Chaeyoung, you opened it.

[18:57] Chae : here the address of the sex shop I talked about earlier : <address>. I know how curious you are sometimes 👀 hehe you’ll tell me. xoxo

Your smile vanished when you thought about your little talk with Chaeyoung.

“ok” you sighed deeply.

“I’ll go to this shop tomorrow.”

❁ — •*:｡✩

Waking up with the warm sunlights caressing your body gently. You stretched out groaning at the sore muscles.

You checked your phone. 1pm.

Well damn, that was a long sleep.

You decided to take a shower, eat lunch and get ready to “visit” this little shop.

—

Not wanting to be seen at such a place, you put a cap enough to hide your face a bit. You went for a oversized hoodie, a jean and a pair of vans.

Comfy.

You didn’t know why you were so nervous to go there. Is it because you’re scared to meet someone you know there? Is it because you’re embarrassed to see all the stuffs you’ll probably discover there? What type of things you’ll find?

“C’mon that’s just a shop y/n the fuck is wrong with you." you whisper-yelled to yourself before pulling your cap lower.

You took a deep breath as you put your hand on the knob of the door.

“Let’s go.”

Entering the place hesitantly, you looked at your surroundings. Deep red velvety walls, lights keeping the shop bright enough to make it less dark, shelves full of stuff you never knew the existence of.

The cashier welcomed you and you smiled at him politely.

Walking further through the shop, you noticed shelves filled with magazines, covers of obscene pictures of naked women and men making you cover your eyes feeling like a shocked and scared kid.

You blushed as you passed by lingeries hanging on the walls. Not lying to yourself, they were so pretty.

You brushed your fingertips gently over the soft materials, some velvety ones, lacy ones and other lingeries more… revealing.

Different boxes at the back of the shop intrigued you as you approached them.

Getting closer, you gulped feeling a little lump in you throat.

“what the fuck are these oh my gosh” you whisper-yelled completely shocked.

Not only vibrators were there, but anal plugs, anal beads, dildos, strap-on dildos , bdsm toys… handcuffs, ropes , flogger , whips, open mouth gag, blindfolds, spanking paddles, cock rings (pls help me!!), fleshlights …

“nipple clamps? That sounds so painful.” you whined covering your chest.

”urethral sound? oh lord i don’t even have a penis and I can feel the pain." you held your stomach, disgust painting your face.

“the hell are these? rabbit vibrator? butterfly vibrator?… bondage hood?? h-how do people breath oh my-”

(little break, let me clean my horrible search history real quick and drink some water my head is spinning with all these new information lmao)

Looking around you noticed bondage furniture and other stuffs making you uncomfortable.

“Chaeyoung is completely insane what the hell!”

“Good afternoon, how can I help you?”

A really familiar voice could be heard behind you. You turned around only to see your best friend.

”J-Jungkook!?“ you said louder than you thought.

“y-y/n?! What are you doing here?” shock written all over his red face.

”I’m hm I.. wait! What are you doing here?” you said trying to avoid his question.

Jungkook stayed quiet, mouth opening but no words coming out.

Looking at his shirt, you noticed the logo of the shop on it. ”you work here?“

Your eyes widened as you glanced at his red ears.

”hm.. yes.” he replied, head down as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

 “Oh.. that’s why you’ve never tell me more about your job…“ you trailed out.

He nodded looking at you again.

“and you? What are you doing here huh?” he asked curiosity laced in his voice.

You chewed on your bottom lip, searching for an answer.

“so?” he smiled teasingly ears still red.

“yo stop with your weird thoughts!” you punched him on his shoulder.

“personal stuff.” you muttered.

“well, I guessed it’s for personal stuff.” he looked around you smirking.

“oh shut up.”

“so what.. are you searching for?” you looked up at him shocked.

“eh that’s my job calm down.” he laughed as you looked around searching for someone else than your best friend to help you.

“I .. hm.. I came for this!” you grabbed a random box on the shelve next to you not even looking at it.

“wow..is this for you?” Jungkook tried his best not to laugh.

“yes!”

“never knew my bestie has a dick.” you looked down at the box .. cock ring.

You closed your eyes embarrassment washing over you. He laughed softly as you put the box back at his place quickly.

Looking for a diversion, you glanced behind him “hey what’s that?!” you pointed at a random spot.

When Jungkook looked over his shoulder, you grabbed the box of a vibrator running away with it.

“what?” he turned back only to see that you weren’t here anymore.

You stopped running, putting your hand over your heart as you tried to breath slower.

Looking up, you noticed that you were at the lingerie "booth”. Your eyes stayed glued on one of them.

A black one exactly.

You touched the soft bra, fingers sliding on the lacy material. It was just so cute and sexy at the same time.

You shook your head walking at the front of the shop to the cashier.

After paying your product, the cashier told you with no shame to “have fun”.

Gosh what a day.

❁ — •*:｡✩

You groaned exasperatedly throwing your purchase on your bed, this one bouncing on the mattress and ending on the floor.

You decided to take a shower, letting the warm water caress his way down your body pleasantly, helping your muscles relax, washing the stress and shame away.

After your shower, you went downstairs opening your fridge to take a bottle of ice cold water. You needed something fresh to calm down from all the events that happened today.

You swallowed down the liquid, the cold water hitting your throat in a pleasant way.

You jumped when you suddenly heard knocks on your door startling you.

You furrowed your eyebrows checking your phone to see if Chaeyoung texted you announcing she was coming over but nothing.

Opening the door you were faced to the last person you wanted to see today. The embarrassment too “fresh” to handle.

“Hi.” Jungkook smiled shyly.

You looked down nodding acknowledging his presence.

“hm.. can I come in?” he asked after a few seconds.

“oh! yea yea of course.” you let him in, closing the door behind.

“so.. what bring you here?” you talked still avoiding his eyes.

“can’t I come visit my favorite best friend?” he tilted his head to the side, raising an eyebrow up playfully.

“your one and only best friend.” you huffed.

“yep! my only one. mine.” he grinned cutely.

“yes. yours.” you smiled back this time looking at him, this one still smiling.

The atmosphere changed. You didn’t know how, why but it changed.

Something in Jungkook’s gaze changed for a second before he cleared his throat.

The word ‘yours’ affecting him a bit too much.

He couldn’t think like that, no , you’re his best friend.

But he wanted you more than that. He wanted you to be his.

A pleasant silence settled as you stared at each other, his eyes on your lips time to time.

“Can I kiss you?” he breathed out.

It was so sudden yet so tempting.

“yes.” you whispered as he approached you taking your face in his hands gently before connecting his lips with yours.

He kissed you softly, his hand sliding down your side to rest on your hip.

Kissing him felt so magical. It felt so unreal.

Jungkook pulled away, resting his forehead on yours before chuckling.

“i’ve never thought I’d kiss my pretty best friend one day.”

You chuckled hiding your face on his chest. He pulled you closer, hugging you.

This hug wasn’t like the others you shared before. This one was different. You could feel his heart beating faster when you wrapped your arms around him.

“y/n.” he spoke again.

You looked up at him waiting for him to continue.

“i.. i think.. I’m in love with you.” his cheeks red from the confession.

“think?” you teased.

He rolled his eyes smilling widely “I’m in love with you.”

“i’m in love with you too.” you said shyly before kissing his cheek.

He smiled before capturing your lips for another kiss, a sweet and loving one.

This time the kiss was longer, his hands creeping behind your back by your waist and tugging you closer onto his body.

The way your bodies were against each other’s made you feel some type of way.

A feeling you’ve never felt before. An unfamiliar feeling deep down in your stomach making you moan into the kiss as Jungkook’s hand went on your lower back pushing you harder on him.

He groaned feeling blood rushing down there. His growing boner pressed on your lower stomach.

You pulled away breathing heavily.

“I want you.” Jungkook whispered, his hands playing with the strings of your -his- hoodie.

“I want you too.”

You looked toward the stairs. Jungkook got the hint and took your hand in his walking upstairs.

It wasn’t the first time he came into your bedroom but this time, it wasn’t for studying, watching movies on your sleepovers or take naps… no this time was different.

Jungkook closed the door before walking to you, taking your chin between his thumb and index.

He leaned down, his lips envelopping yours into a loving and slow kiss again.

He started leaving little pecks, his lips trailing down to your jawline, to your neck sucking gently on the soft skin.

You walked backward to your bed letting your body fall on it pulling Jungkook in the process on top of you. He giggled softly as you caressed his cheek softly.

Your fingers went down, playing with the buttons of his shirt before unbuttoning them slowly one by one while looking into his eyes. He helped you taking it off completely throwing it away.

He bent down, lips on the side of your neck pressing light kisses, his hands sliding under your hoodie.

“can I?” he said gently pulling at the hem of the garment.

You nodded before sitting and raising your arms up. Jungkook chuckled pulling it off your beautiful body.

You suddenly froze, realizing that you were half-naked in front of him.

Your hands flew directly to your bra-covered breasts. If you felt exposed with your underwear on, you wondered how you’ll feel naked.

“don’t be shy.” Jungkook said softly.

“Easy to say when you don’t have breasts.” you muttered.

“i do have breats! But they’re super flat..it’s like they’re non-existent.” he said playfully palming his pecs.

“oh gosh stop.” you laughed slapping his arm.

Jungkook laughed too before taking your hands in his.

“look at me.” he started “your body is so beautiful. You are so beautiful. Don’t be shy around me. You know you can trust me and be yourself with me. So don’t hide from me.” you locked eyes with him, his words making your heart skip a beat.

No one ever talked like that with you.. about you.

You nodded with a smile decorating your lips.

“That’s my girl” he said as he peck your forehead.

He laid you down again gently, hands wandering on the bare skin, so soft as his fingertips caress their way up and down, goosebumps raising after their journeys. 

Jungkook lowered his head, his soft lips on your collarbone starting leaving open mouth kisses and little love bites there and then.

His mouth cascaded down on your chest, sucking on the sensitive skin to leave little reddish and purplish flowers.

He continued his way down, kissing every part he could, not forgetting to leave little marks proving that he has worshipped your beautiful body as it should.

He stopped when he reached your panties, looking up at you, a silent request to have your permission to take it off.

You hesitated for awhile, rethinking about his words. You did trust him. A lot. More than yourself perhaps? But being this exposed was really difficult for you.

Were you ready for this step?

“If you’re not ready or if you’re uncomfortable it’s ok princess, we can stop.” you heard him speak again pushing you out of your thoughts.

“take it off.” you answered.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes.” you lifted your hips a little bit as he dragged the soft material off your legs.

“so pretty.” Jungkook murmured as he caressed your thighs.

He took his time adorning them with love bites and hickeys, making them look even prettier at his eyes.

His face got higher, just above your most sensitive part.

He kissed your clit gently making you hiss. The new sensation so good making it throb, anticipation growing more and more.

The need to close your legs really tempting. And that’s exactly what you did.

Jungkook got off the bed to get rid of his pant.

You immediately looked away when he glanced at you, hands on the waistband of his boxer ready to push it down.

He blushed thinking about the fact that it was also his first time being naked in front of someone.

He still chuckled at your shyness murmuring a quiet “cute.”

Jungkook hissed as he finally freed his cock from his confinement, the sensitive tip hitting the air before slapping against his stomach.

You breath hitched when you felt the bed dip again signaling that Jungkook was back.

He made sure you were confortable, pillows behind your head, blanket over your bodies as you suggested for more ‘intimacy’.

Jungkook hovered you before talking again “are you nervous?”.

You gulped before letting a small yes escape from your mouth.

“Are you?” Jungkook nodded.

Both of you knew it was both your first time.

“If you’re not ready we can stop.” you said softly.

He smiled shyly nodding “y/n we can stop at any moment. Understood?”

You nodded hand cupping his cheek, thumb caressing the cheekbone.

Jungkook positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock rubbing teasingly on your folds making you moan.

“´k are you sure?” he asked one last time.

You nodded before he stopped you, shaking his head.

“I need a verbal approval y/n.”

“I’m sure and I want you to be sure too.” you said softly making him hummed.

“oh wait wait!” Jungkook exclaimed.

“what is it?” you asked confused many scenarios creating in your head ready to make you panick.

“be my girlfriend. no! I mean, w-would you like to be my girlfriend?” you chuckled at how cute he was.

“I’d love to Kook” you pecked his lips making him smile widely, eyes turning into little crescents.

Jungkook started entering you slowly and carefully making sure not to hurt you, checking up on your facial expressions time to time.

You gripped on his bicep hard as it started to burn. The unfamiliar intrusion uncomfortable.

You hissed, the pain making his presence more and more.

“are you ok? Do you want me to stop? Pull out? I can st-”

“i’m good don’t worry, keep going slowly please.” you whispered.

Jungkook peppered kisses on your cheek and neck, to distract you from the pain of the stretch as he pushed in deeper until he completely bottomed.

You groaned, tears forming in your eyes “shh, you’re doing so well darling.”

He caressed your cheeks a bit concerned “Tell me when I can move yea?”

On the other side, Jungkook suffered in his own way.

He scrunched his nose, bottom lip trapped between his teeth at the warm tightness around him so foreign, his mind going wild.

You took a deep breath, trying to surpass the burn down there.

You nodded gesturing him to move again. This one, thrusted in and out slowly, taking his time not to hurt you and enjoy the new sensation around him.

He groaned as he started feeling this exciting and pleasuring feeling making his cock twitched inside you.

You moaned softly, the pain fading away and the pleasure coming gradually.

The burn was still there but it was bearable, it felt good as Jungkook continued his slow moves.

“J-Jungkook” you breathed out hand gripping his bicep tightly nails digging into the flesh.

“you ok princess?” he whispered against your lips.

“It f-feels good.. you feel so good” your eyelids getting heavy, trying your best to keep your eyes on him.

He looked so handsome. On top of you, lips swollen with all the kisses exchanged, a light blush decorating his cheeks, his ears red, chest gleaming with sweat, little droplets formed on his forehead….. so ethereal.

As Jungkook continued moving in and out of you, the pleasure took over, the painful burn long forgotten.

Your hands travelled to his back, fingernails were buried into the soft flesh of his muscular back drawing little crescents.

“you’re doing so good baby. so good for me.” he caressed your cheek.

Jungkook took his time making love to you, nibbling on your earlobe lightly as he whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

You scratched his back as he gripped your thigh lifting it a bit getting deeper inside you.

“fuck please don’t stop.” you whimpered voice cracking, his length rubbing deliciously against your warm velvelty walls.

The wet and warm feeling around him made him feel lightheaded. You felt too good to be true.

He pressed butterfly kisses on your jawline, his lips travelling down leaving beautiful dark red flowers on your neck, continuing his path to your collarbone biting it lightly enough to form a little mark. “so pretty.” he whispered more to himself.

He let out a low groan as you clenched around him “fuck!” he rolled his hips sensually grazing over your sweet spot making you whined out loudly.

You ran your fingers through his soft locks. You squeezed your eyes shut, letting your head fall back into the pillows as Jungkook hit deeper.

Art. Just art. You looked like a masterpiece.

All covered up with hickeys, the red and purple marks on your skin making his eyes sparkling with lust, admiration and love.

“you’re so beautiful. so beautiful all marked up.” he said fingers running over the little bruises he left. “mine. you’re mine.”

The vein of his neck was prominent as he moaned when you tightened around him, the pressure making him weak to a point “baby d-don’t stop clenching p-please.” 

“Jungkook I think I’m- fuck.” you moaned feeling the knot in your lower stomach tighter, your heart beating faster as the pleasure propagated inside you.

Jungkook placed your calve over his waist, he cupped your jawline, his lips barely touching yours as he whispered “cum for me love.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at the way your walls convulse around him. “fuck! I’m so near!”

Jungkook slid his veiny hands up your arms until they reached your hands, pinning them at each side of your head as he tangled your fingers together.

The sweet little gesture making your heart stop.

He bent down to press kisses on the sensitive marked-skin of your neck. His touches overwhelming you.

Butterflies finally blooming into your lower stomach as you came around him.

The sudden wave of pleasure forming tears in your eyes as they slid down your cheeks. His name leaving your throat in a high pitched moan.

Your soft moans pushed him over the edge of his own release, he moaned deeply as he came inside you, filling you up to the brim.

The warm cum made you sigh as you let your body relax against the soft sheet.

“i love you.” he pushed stands of hair out of your face.

Heat rushed to your cheeks, the three words making your heart melt.

“i love you.” you whispered softly, caressing the back of his head gently.

Jungkook buried his face into the crook of your neck, his breath tickling you.

You chuckled, hand stroking up and down his back to soother the scratched skin. He looked up at you before pecking the tip of your nose.

“’m tired.” you mumbled yawning.

“let’s get you clean up first cutie.”

He was about to pull out when you groaned pulling him down on you. “let’s stay like this please?” shyness showing up again.

“as you wish princess.”

He laid a kiss on your temple before turning around on his back, pulling you on top of him. His slow heartbeats and an last I love you were the last thing you heard before drifting off in his warm embrace.

a beautiful relationship started and probably a wild one …

—

a/n : not a frequent f2l fic right? I hope i did good - a part 2? I love writing fluffy smut since I’m a romantic person 😭 sorry sorry. Anyways, thanks for reading luvs. Take care of yourselves :)

+ I forgot to add that jk and reader are both college students and it’s a part job for Jungkook.

[mystra-midnight]

Counting Stars

summary: he was staring at you with those warm brown eyes that made your heart do somersaults in your chest—the same expression that made butterflies wing through your veins and heat pool in the pit of your stomach.

warnings: 18+ only. public setting? idk everything here is public. slight praise kink. pet name; (pretty girl). fingering. masturbation. edging. reader is down bad for bellamy, and we can't blame her.

words: 847.

notes: honestly it feels good to be getting back into my 100 boys. i might not have liked the ending but the show was phenomenal and i love the emotional algebra they all went through. the angst and character development was just *chefs kiss*

This wasn't the time or the place; part of you knew that, but you were too far gone to care. With the threat of grounders, acid fog, and god knows what else lurking in the forest, you should have been terrified. Maybe you would have been had Bellamy not been kneeling between your spread legs.

You felt safest with him, entirely confident that he would move mountains to protect you. And he would—Bellamy would give his life to protect any of the hundred. There was a certain kinship he felt with them, a bond of loyalty, and a certain camaraderie that blossomed from all of them having been sent to a post-apocalyptic earth with no idea what to expect.

That was why, despite being almost naked and lying on the forest floor, you felt perfectly safe. Your legs were spread, the backs of your thighs resting over the front of his, giving him the perfect few of your pussy as he rubbed the knuckles of two fingers along your slit. He was staring at you with those warm brown eyes that made your heart do somersaults in your chest—the same expression that made butterflies wing through your veins and heat pool in the pit of your stomach.

He was staring at you as though you were the most beautiful thing on earth.

"Bell," you breathed his name in a sigh. His touch was soft and gentle, working you over slowly as he pushed the tips of his fingers between your fold. Bellamy watched the way your chest rose when you sucked in a sharp breath, his pointer finger circling your entrance once, twice, and a third time before pushing in. You gasped, your hips canting upwards to welcome him.

"What is it, pretty girl?" He hummed, smiling down at you with a sweet expression, one that contradicted the scandalous movement of his fingers in and out of your tight warmth. He brought his thumb to your clit, your slickness made it easy for him to rub quick shapes around your sensitive nub. His opposite hand held your thigh, fingers spread wide and possessively, his grip enough to entice an ache in the form of bruises.

"Don't tease me," you answered with a whimper, your head falling back against the foliage until you were staring at the stars above. They looked beautiful, like far-off galaxies twinkling in the distance. It would take a dozen lifetimes to count them all, but you would gladly do it if it meant an eternity with him between your legs. "Please, Bell, not tonight. I've been good. Just wanna cum for you. Please let me cum."

You knew that he adored you—that had never been a doubt in your mind. But his love didn't mean he was kind all the time. Sometimes he was mean, like this morning and right now. Bellamy enjoyed building you up and up, only to leave you balanced on the edge of oblivion. He liked to watch the frustration on your face when he denied you an orgasm; he liked to watch the ecstasy that overcame you when he finally gave it to you. That was what he'd done this morning.

In between kisses, he had split you open with his cock, wrapped your legs around his waist, and touched you all over the place with his hands. You'd left scratches down his back when he'd tried to pull away, your thighs shaking with the force of your impending orgasm as it slowly waned. He'd kissed you again before heading out for his patrol, leaving you frustrated and almost crying on his makeshift bed. It was why it took an embarrassingly short time for him to work you to the edge of your control, forcing you onto the precipice of oblivion once again.

"You're such a good girl for me." He said softly, leaning forward to cast a shadow over you, blocking out the view of the stars and making you lose count. You dug your nails into the dirt when he added a third finger between your thighs. It was a blissful stretch that had you keening loudly. Bellamy pressed his lips against your throat, the new position making your thighs fall open wider. "And you beg so prettily."

A familiar warmth simmered between your hips, spreading down your legs and up your chest.

"Please," you gasped.

You wouldn't be able to hold it this time—not that you were ever able to hold it back. Whenever the feeling came upon you, it did so without remorse. It built like a storm in your veins, slowly at first, and would release all at once. Bellamy knew this, so when he felt your walls starting to grip his fingers tighter, when he felt them flutter, and when he saw the tell-tale signs etched upon your face, he stopped.

He kept his fingers buried in your pussy, right down to the knuckle, and lifted his thumb from your throbbing clit. He kissed you softly and, oh, so sweetly, swallowing the sob that bubbled past your lips.

"Not yet, pretty girl."

[bruh-changbin]

sweet tooth

pairing: park jay x waitress!afab reader

genre: smut, minimal fluff (minors dni)

warnings: oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (be safe), public sex, creampie, finger sucking, minimal food play, lots of mentions of food, brief mention of male masturbation, jongseong is kind of a big desperate loser, lmk if i’m missing anything

word count: 6.7k

a/n: writing this killed me idk why it took fucking forever dawg. but hey, i’m finally giving you all an enha fic without a depressing ending!!! here’s a fun drinking game to play while you read this: take a shot every time jay says a variation of ‘uhhh’ (you will die) ALSOOOO this is for my bae’s @k-ingzo @lix-ables thank you guys for hyping me up to write this bc if you didn’t I’m 90% sure I would’ve scrapped it 😻 LOVE YAAAAA

waiting. 

the most painful game one can be subjected to.

seconds stretch into minutes stretch into hours and soon enough the whole concept of time is but a mere social construct that holds no real value. 

surely his coffee’s gone cold by now. 

the view from the window to his right has progressed from one filled with gold, yellow and orange to one filled with blue, black, and indigo. one by one the neon signs of nearby businesses have flickered on to attract the nighttime crowd. 

he tries to ignore the way his heart is sinking in his chest, much like the way he himself is sinking deeper and deeper into the red vinyl cushion of the booth he’s seated in. the overhead speakers have been blaring elvis for the past half hour and he wants to scream and smash a plate on the floor in frustration. if they play hound dog one more time i swear i’m gonna-

jennifer. 20. single. 2.3 km away. her bio read: only swipe right if you like puppies!!!!!

he does like puppies and found her to be quite pretty, so he did as he was instructed. his heart did a small flip in his chest when his phone screen lit up reading ‘it’s a match!’. he got to talking to her and things were going smoothly. well, at least he thought they were. now he’s alone in a booth constantly refreshing their online chat with some sliver of hope that she may still be coming. the same three messages stare back at him:

[5:17 pm] jay : hey! I got here a bit early so i’m just waiting in the car. let me know when you get here and we’ll go in together.

[6:03 pm] jay: it started getting busy so i snagged us a booth, i hope that’s ok… anyways, i’ll see you soon.

[6:49 pm] jay: hello?

whatever, her loss. fuck dating apps.

and fuck jake sim for making him sign up for one.

maybe tinder just isn’t for him. maybe he needs to find love the old fashion way: bumping into someone on the street; locking eyes across a crowded room; both of you reaching for the last bottle of wine at the grocery store and then just insisting that the other takes it. you know, the kind of shit you see in movies.

the only thing is he’s tried the old fashion way for years to no avail, with tinder being his last resort. things like these take time, he tries to remind himself. you can���t rush love, that’s the magic of it!

but now, seated in a booth at an obnoxiously retro themed diner with his head hung low, he has lost all faith in love. he picks up the porcelain mug to his right and downs the dark liquid; cold, just like his heart. 

he should just leave. i mean it’s obvious at this point that he’s been stood up so he should just head home where the teasing and nagging from jake that will bruise his ego even more is iminent. there comes a time in life where one must accept defeat and move on with-

“would you like a top up, sir?”

a sudden interjection from a saccharine voice to his left is what pulls him out of his trance of self pity. woah, hello you. 

it’s been a long time since he’s been rendered speechless, but you do that to him. you, looking like someone who should be on the cover of a magazine as opposed to serving coffee in a diner. a white button down hugs your torso in all the right ways and he’s envious of the red apron that’s tightly wrapped around your waist because that should be him. the blue ballpoint pen tucked behind your ear somehow makes you 10x more attractive and he can feel his throat close up at the sight of you. 

your skin looks smooth and your lips look plump and thank fuck jessica bailed on him because now all he can think about is bending you over this very table and fucking you raw. top up? more like top me, please!

the glint of the gold name tag pinned onto your shirt catches his eye and he reads it: y/n. pretty.

he notices your eyes shifting around anxiously and reality comes crashing down on him. stop drooling over her tits and answer the question you perv. focus!

“i u-uhhh yes, uh yes please that’d be great,” he stutters out embarrassingly, prompting you to bend over and refill his mug with steaming hot coffee from a pot that you hold with a perfectly manicured hand. 

“can i get you anything else while you…” your eyes dart to the empty seat across from where he’s seated, “wait?”

god this is so embarrassing. now the cute waitress thinks he’s a fucking loser who got stood up (that is exactly what happened). could this day get any worse? he was just about to leave, spare himself from more agony when you waltzed into his life and made his brain a complicated, frazzled mess. 

“uhmm no that’s ok,” he’s trying very hard not to trip over the simplest of words, “just the bill would be great.”

you nod, about to turn around and head over to the register when jay speaks up again in an attempt to preserve his image. 

“it was supposed to be a-a work meeting,” he starts while motioning to the still empty spot across from him, “but my uh….. business partner… couldn’t make it, so..”

he’s lying. you know he’s lying. someone waiting for their ‘business partner’ to show up wouldn’t be checking their phone every 1-3 minutes while intermittently wiping their clammy palms on their slacks every time the doorbell jingles and a new customer enters.

but he doesn’t need to know that, so you paint on an understanding smile before heading over to the diner counter, sparing him one final glance over your shoulder.

it’s a sad sight to see; a handsome boy patiently waiting for someone who’s clearly not going to show up. so you bring him a slice of red velvet cake dolled up with cream cheese icing and waive the two cups of coffee that were tacked onto his bill for the evening.

“it’s on the house,” you practically whisper into his ear while placing a comforting hand on his sturdy shoulder.

“oh!” his voice cracks, “t-thank you so much i-” he calls, but you’re already walking away to assist another table.

his hand instinctively reaches to where yours was placed on his shoulder only moments ago. he could sense the warmth radiating from your palm, feel the stray hairs of your bangs tickle his ear, smell the artificial strawberry scent of your lip gloss. 

either someone decided to crank the heat up in the diner or he’s becoming extremely flustered (it’s the second one). he scoffs down the cake you left him with flushed cheeks and tight pants, visions of himself prying your legs open and indulging in something sweeter plaguing his mind. 

with a hefty sigh he throws on his coat before making his way out of the diner and into his car that’s parked right out front. from behind his windshield he watches as you greet a group of other customers before turning his keys in the ignition and peeling out of the parking lot.

he doesn’t even make it home before he’s pulling into an empty parking lot and jerking himself to the thought of you and your work uniform and your glossed lips.

covet. desire. yearn for. crave.

all very real tertiary emotions that park jay would use to describe his current feelings towards you - a server who he spoke to for two minutes max and now can’t seem to move on from.

unsurprisingly, jake teased the fuck out of him for getting stood up in the way that friends do. but he doesn’t know that jay views his failed date as a complete success. 

albeit he is still mildly salty over the fact that he got stood up, all negativity is washed from his brain the moment he pulls into the familiar parking lot in front of the familiar diner and he feels the familiar pitter patter of his heart quickening its pace from behind his ribcage. 

he tried to hold off on returning the literal day after he was just there, he really did, but he simply couldn’t bear it. the urge to see you, to observe you interacting with other patrons to know if you’re nice to everyone or if he got special treatment is too strong to ignore. it’s for science! he assures himself.

the dulcet jingle of the bell as he opens the door to the diner rings in his ears, and he waits to be seated. the hostess that shows him to a booth similar to the one he was in yesterday is pretty, but she’s not you. only then does jay realize that the possibility of you not having been scheduled to work today is very real. this is only worsened by the fact that he decided to come in the late morning today as opposed to the evening like yesterday. stupid, stupid, stupid!!!

while feeling like a complete and utter idiot he decides to get to work, whipping out his journal, writing utensils and laptop for the sake of not looking like a weirdo. what kind of person goes to a diner and just…. sits there. he’s gotta keep up a facade. 

things are starting to look grim for jay as he sits and works and waits for the object of his desire to appear in front of him. while the retro cat clock on the wall continues its relentless ticking he attempts to swallow down his dismay. 

alas, the universe must be on his side after all for soon enough he catches a glimpse of you through his peripherals. yes! you seem to be a little frazzled, gnawing on the inside of your cheek before grabbing a mop to clean up the chocolate milk that a toddler has decided to decorate the floor with; your shift must have just started. 

he keeps his head hung low while intermittently scribbling in his journal or scrolling on his laptop, opting to steal an occasional glance as you assist a plethora of other patrons. the coffee he was served upon his arrival is starting to go tepid, much like yesterday, and he’s practically praying you’ll soon stride over and ask if he needs a top up. 

“more coffee…” you pause briefly, “jay?”

hold up, how’d you learn his name? 

his brow quirks upwards in confusion and with your hand - the one that’s not holding a boiling pot of coffee - you point to his leather bound journal that’s splayed across the table, opened to the first page. property of park jay is scrawled across the top in his sloppy handwriting akin to that of a first graders. he’s surprised you can even distinguish what it says to be completely honest. 

“ahhh,” he remarks in understanding, smiling ever so slightly because hey, now you know each others names. that’s a step in the right direction.

“were you looking to order something? you know, other than black coffee.”

as if on cue his stomach growls (luckily quietly enough for you to not pick up on it) and he fumbles for the plastic covered menu to his right that slips and slides in his sweaty grasp. 

“i would love to but uhh, i’m not sure what i’m in the mood for… what do you recommend?”

you roll his question around in your head for a moment, “were you thinking sweet or savoury? or if you want both, we make a pretty mean monte cristo.”

at this point if you told jay to walk off a cliff he would do it, so he orders your recommendation without hesitation.

“good call,” you purr before waltzing away from his booth and into the kitchen, leaving jay to erupt in a fit of goosebumps on his own. 

while he waits he busies himself with reading an article on his laptop, getting halfway through before realizing he hasn’t actually been taking any information in the entire time. but can you blame him? his brain is… preoccupied with other thoughts. 

soon enough you’re striding back over to where he’s seated, placing a steaming monte cristo with so much confectioner's sugar on top it looks as if there’s been a mini avalanche in front of him. he thanks you and is about to dig in before he realizes you aren’t leaving. 

“is your business partner coming today?”

…what?

“my business partner? i don’t- OH! fuck, uh y-yes my business partner right! uh no, no he’s not coming today. i usually come here to work on my own though.”

for a moment he forgot about the blatant lie he spilled to you the last time he was here to save face, but he thinks he saved himself with that last bit. 

a playful yet triumphant smirk makes its way onto your face, “that’s funny, i’ve never seen you here before yesterday.”

his eyes widen and his palms become impossibly sweaty. caught in a lie, great.

before he can come up with a witty response you just shoot him a knowing look as you walk away from the booth he’s seated in, your strawberry body spray wafting behind you and infiltrating his senses, rendering him immobile. 

ugh how you make his teeth ache! he longs to douse you in syrup and powdered sugar, drag his hot tongue across your skin as you squirm and twist in pleasure underneath him. he’s sure you’d be sweet enough to give him a cavity. he finishes his monte cristo with gusto and attempts to do more work on his laptop but finds his brain to be far too frazzled to do so.

when he decides to call it quits, he leaves you a hefty tip before driving home with the taste of sugar coating his lips and the inside of his mouth.

over the span of a few weeks the two of you become accustomed to a game similar to the likes of cat and mouse.

he shows up to the diner in the late morning/early afternoon and prays that you’re scheduled for a shift; you usually are. through the course of a few hours jay manages to get minimal amounts of work done while you check on him occasionally, offering your opinions on different menu items and then placing a hand on his shoulder with a laugh when he trips over his words. 

he’s sure you can sense the tension as well, but in case you can’t he keeps his thoughts to himself. you could just be doing your job for all he knows. 

nevertheless, it feels as if all aspects of jay’s life now revolve around you. when he falls asleep at night you’re the last thing on his mind and when he wakes up you’re the first. when he gets himself off he has to think of you or else he won’t feel satisfied, and he can only hope and pray that one day he’ll be able to feel your body against his, the warmth radiating from your body making him feel like a cake in an oven. 

sure he’d love to take you out, shower you with gifts and spoil you by taking you to expensive places that would surely break the bank, but he just can’t seem to push away all of the hardly appropriate thoughts and feelings he harbours towards you. it’s becoming quite an issue, honestly.

he thinks of popping the buttons on your blouse open one by one before diving in, scattering bite marks and bruises across your tits and neck and collarbones as you writhe and plead underneath him. i need more jay, please give it to me…

god you would sound so perfect.

his fantasies don’t stop there though; they never do. he can’t help himself from imagining what it'd be like to reach up your skirt and peel your panties down your legs as if they’re strands of red licorice. he’d go so slow, taunting and teasing you before slipping himself inside of you and feeling your cunt suck him in as if you crave him like oxygen. 

you smell of strawberries and he’s sure you taste like them too. the stripper red polish on your nails would pair so well with the scratches he’s sure you’d leave across the expanse of his back and shoulders. he longs to dig his teeth into your plush thighs like they’re mochi, snapping a picture of his bite mark embedded in your perfect skin to save for later use. 

down bad is an understatement when it comes to jay’s desire for you. infatuation is more like it.

today starts off like every other day. the smell of burnt coffee is what pulls him from his slumbers, and the clock on his bedside table tells him he managed to sleep in until one in the afternoon. when he trudges into the kitchen he sees his roommate and friend jake, who likely also just woke up and still doesn’t understand how to properly operate a coffee machine, staring at his phone. 

it’s then that jake reminds him of the plans they made to spend the afternoon at their friends house playing video games before grabbing takeout for dinner. jay curses his past self for agreeing to these dumb plans with his dumb friends since he was planning on heading to the diner today to marvel at his favourite waitress! oh well, he can still head over for an hour and a half at most before he has to return and uphold the prior promise he made. 

he turns down jake’s offer of a cup of coffee and, after a quick shower, he’s flying out the door.

when he finally makes it to the place where he spends most of his days now he doesn’t even wait to be seated, just slips into the same booth as always and waits for you. the little ritual the two of you have fallen into now so ingrained into his brain he can’t imagine straying from it. alas, it’s decently busy today so he busies himself by scrolling through his instagram feed while waiting for you to grace him with your presence.

when you finally appear in front of him you don’t say anything, just shoot him your usual friendly smile while precariously placing a napkin and mug of black coffee in front of him before leaving as quickly as you came. this sends jay into an emotional spiral. oh god, did i do something wrong? he ponders to himself, brows furrowed as he tries to remember everything he said to you during your last interaction that could have potentially been misconstrued.

only then does he notice the blue ink poking out from the napkin tucked underneath his steaming mug of coffee. with shaky hands he pulls it out and reads the short message written in your refined penmanship:

my shift is done at 10:00 pm.

wait for me? :)

y/n

and just below your neat scrawl he can make out a sticky lip gloss print, a faint hint of the fake strawberry scent that plagues his mind day and night still lingering. 

in this moment he should be happy, ecstatic, victorious even! his constant and obsequious devotion to you has not gone unnoticed, and at long last he’ll be alone with you in a place that doesn’t have checkered tile floors and posters of pin ups on every square inch of the teal coloured walls. but no, all he feels is embarrassment.

embarrassment because he was too much of a wiener to actually do something so you felt the need to take matters into your own hands. and embarrassment because your little napkin love letter signed off with your glossy kiss is making him excruciatingly horny. it’s like he’s in highschool all over again - yikes. 

he glances at the face of the silver watch that he scarcely takes off, the leather wrist strap now feeling uncomfortably tight considering his recent spike in blood pressure. with some reluctance he decides to leave early, tucking your napkin note into his pocket before driving home while barely focusing on the road and cars in front of him.

the hangout with jake and the rest of his friends is excruciating as expected. time seems to both fly by and drag on simultaneously, and he watches the hands on his watch tick down the hours, minutes, seconds until he can finally be with you - alone. when jake finally throws the towel in jay all but runs out of the door, speeding down the now far emptier city streets before pulling into the dining parking lot and waiting (he’s 23 minutes early).

with every passing minute his heart rate quickens and, when the time reads 10:06 pm, he thinks he’s going to faint when he sees you exit your place of work and scan the parking lot briefly before making your way over to his car. the sound of his passenger side door opening feels far off as he tries to make sense of the fact that you are about to be in his car, right beside him. what the fuck.

“hi.”

“hi.”

“i like your car.”

“oh, you do?”

“yep. it suits you.”

“really?”

you only nod at this, flashing him a subtle grin before flipping down the sun visor in front of you to tidy up your appearance after a long and tiring shift (he still thinks you look pretty). it feels as if his fingers aren’t his own as he fiddles with the radio while gazing at you through his peripherals, watching as you rub the smudged mascara from underneath your eyes before applying a final coat of the lip gloss that he loves oh so much. how on earth is he going to last longer than 5 minutes without falling at your feet?

“sooo what do you wanna do?” jay questions, unsure if his eagerness to hear your response is because he’s genuinely curious or because he just likes the sound of your voice.

“you choose, take me anywhere,” you offer with a smile, “surprise me!”

“okay!” he responds, narrowly escaping a voice crack as he shifts his car into reverse.. he has just the place in mind. 

the drive is somewhat of a lengthy one, although you don’t seem to mind. it’s warm enough to have the windows down, and jay greedily gulps down deep breaths of the fresh night air. from your spot in the passenger seat you ramble about your day at the diner, complaining about an old man who held the ketchup bottle the wrong way and promptly squirted it all over you when you came to ask how he was doing. despite all, you still manage to have a positive attitude. 

soon enough he’s pulling off of the main road into an opening surrounded by woods, killing the engine and the car lights and opting to bask in the natural glow of the night sky. 

“wow jay, way to be subtle.”

“what!!?”

“what do you mean what? you bring me to the city’s unofficial official makeout spot and expect me to not be skeptical?”

fuck. for the entirety of the drive over he was hoping that you wouldn’t know about the promiscuous reputation this spot has garnered over the years. he can’t give up this quickly though, he must play innocent!

“i- woahh, is that what this place is? i genuinely had no idea i just-”

“shut it jay, the first thing i noticed about you was that you’re a terrible liar.”

you’ve got him there, deception is not his strong suit. he’s about to explain himself when he notices you unbuckling your seatbelt and stepping out of his car, prompting him to do the same.

“i just thought it would be a nice, secluded space where we could talk and hang out… nothing more.”

silence settles over the two of you and, upon noting jay’s queasy expression, you decide to indulge yourself and tease him (just a little bit).

“what are you trying to say?” you bat your eyelashes and fake being in thought, “that you don’t wanna fuck me on the hood of your car?”

he chokes on his saliva. 

“w-what i’m trying to say is that i’m a uhhhh gentleman. i’m a gentleman.”

yeah right, you think to yourself. a gentleman and a major fucking hypocrite. 

“okay jay, if you’re such a gentleman then why do you have a raging hard-on from literally just talking to me?”

in the pale moonlight you see his eyes widen before he scrambles to cover his crotch, not doing much to conceal his erection that’s straining against his slacks. 

“oh god i’m so sorry i can explain uhh-”

“i’m just fucking with you,” you taunt before petting his hair affectionately, attempting to quieten your giggles while jay plasters on a fake smile even though he looks like he’s about to puke. in an attempt to garner the little composure he has left he turns away from you, the cool night air soothing his heated cheeks. 

from where he’s standing he’s granted an overarching view of the city he calls home. against the nighttime sky he can decipher the suburbs, the downtown area, the cafe district. upon each building there’s a small rectangle filled with yellow or white light, windows in which individual people are carrying out their individual lives; it makes everything seem so… miniscule. i mean, aside from you, nobody even knows he’s up here - and he’s still trying to decipher if that’s a good thing or not, seeing as tonight all he’s done is embarrass himself. 

when he looks back you’re leaning against the hood of his car, your arms folded across your chest which sequentially shoves your tits together in a way that makes him wanna plunge his face in between them and give you a good old fashioned motorboat. 

his thoughts are cut off when you speak up.

 “i brought you something,” you announce before turning and opening the passenger side door of jay’s car, trifling around in your before before pulling something out and heading back to where you were standing before, leaning against the hood of his car. in your hands is a toppled over piece of red velvet cake protected by a clear plastic takeout container coupled with two disposable forks. 

“sorry it’s kinda smushed…. i forgot about it.”

“no, that’s ok!” jay thinks you shouldn’t have to apologize for anything ever, “thank you.”

with a crisp pop you open up the container, moving it to sit in between the two of you before passing jay one of the flimsy plastic forks. he lets you take the first bite, stating that after a long shift you need to get your blood sugar back up. you laugh before complying, watching as jay takes a bite right after you do, his eyes rolling back as all of the sweet, rich flavours dance across his taste buds. despite the piece of cake not being in the best condition, it still tastes like heaven.

jay’s caught off guard when your hand suddenly swoops in just as he’s about to spear another piece of cake with his fork, collecting a dollop of icing on one of your nails. he should’ve seen it coming when you reach up and wipe it on the tip of his nose with a playful laugh.

“wow y/n, so original,” he sneers while wiping the cream cheese icing on his nose onto the back of his hand. 

he attempts to do the same to you, dipping his finger in the thick frosting before moving to wipe it on the tip of your nose, but you suddenly latch onto his wrist. he watches with hungry eyes and an erratic pulse as your tongue comes in contact with his knuckle, licking all the way up to his icing-coated fingertip before taking his digit inside your mouth. the thick muscle of your tongue wraps around his finger, sucking away the sweetness before you pull yourself off of him. a faint pink ring of lip gloss on the base of his knuckle now present. 

fuck me.

not a single word is exchanged before jay pushes himself onto you, prompting you to lean back against the hood of his car that’s still slightly warm. with your body weight resting on your elbows and your legs spreading to accommodate jay’s torso, you finally let him taste you. 

your lips are soft and warm like a pastry fresh out of the oven, and when he pulls away he heaves a heavenly sigh filled with pleasure and contentment and thank fuck this is finally happening. it’s not long before you’re pressing your lips to jay’s again, one of your hands moving up to caress the shell of his ear before resting against his face.

you can feel his jaw move against your palm when he opens his mouth and drags his tongue across your sugar coated lips, inducing you to do the same. when his tongue pushes past your teeth and brushes against yours you groan in pleasure, the fingers previously gracing his face dipping down to undo several buttons of your work shirt. with his lips against yours and his tongue down your throat you can feel him giving into you, as if you’re a delectable piece of his favourite candy and he has a raging sweet tooth. 

when jay pulls himself off of you you think you might just cry. luckily you don’t go without his touch for long, for when you open your eyes you watch him dip two fingers into the frosting on top of the forgotten slice of cake before smearing it across the exposed flesh of your tits and down your sternum. he promptly shoves the two frosting coating fingers into your gaping mouth, gazing at you with heart eyes as you suck them clean. 

only then does he dip his head down, the tip of his tongue teasing the sensitive skin of your right breast before licking the stripe of icing off with one broad swipe of his tongue. he gives your other breast the same treatment before giving it teasing nips and kisses, using his tongue to soothe the pinch of his canines. 

once he licks the rest of the frosting from your sternum he continues his descent, not stopping until the insides of your thighs are brushing against his pierced ears. in one swift movement he flips your skirt upwards, your pretty panties with a subtle wet patch now on display for him and only him.

not being able to resist seeing your bare cunt in all of its glory, jay eagerly digs two fingers into the waistband before dragging the fabric down your legs. your lacy pink thong gets all twisted and tangled around your ankles as jay struggles to pull it off, eventually managing to get it around your sneakers before tucking it into his pocket for safe keeping. 

he feels his pants grow impossibly tights as he stares at you on the hood of your car with your legs spread, quite literally something that could’ve been torn right out of a playboy. without missing a beat jay dives into you, flattening his thick tongue and licking you like he would a dripping ice cream cone. it catches you by surprise and you instinctively tangle your fingers in his ebony tresses, a needy moan making its way past your lips and into the air. jay uses the tip of his tongue to explore your needy pussy, lapping up your juices and revelling in the taste on his tongue. i could die like this he thinks, and he digs his blunt nails into your thighs while shoving his head impossibly deeper. 

it’s somewhat sloppy, but what he lacks in technique he makes up for in enthusiasm. it feels like he’s practically making out with your cunt and you can’t help yourself from tugging on his hair in approval. the groans he emits in response have you shuddering, the vibrations causing your legs to shake and tremble as you struggle to keep them pried open. in your lower abdomen you can feel the pressure of an impending orgasm begin to brew.

this sensation only doubles when jay shifts his focus to your clit, sucking on and toying with it like it’s a sugar-covered gumdrop. his actions have you arching your back off of the hood of his car, eyes squeezing shut as you cry and plead, “p-please don’t stop jay… never stop.”

your pleas boost jay’s ego to the max and he eats you out with unrestrained passion, alternating between sucking your clit and tonguing your hole until you finish all over his mouth with a canorous cry that reverberates between his ears. he hopes to never forget that sound.

with reluctance he pulls himself off of your sweet pussy, having to push your legs apart slightly to free himself from the way they were clenching around his head. he stares at you in awe as you bask in the post-orgasm sensation, mouth agape and chest heaving faintly. your eyes, when you finally pry them open, are slightly glassy and it looks like it takes you a second to come back to earth. 

your grip on jay’s hair loosened but you never fully let go, and soon enough he feels you tugging at his roots in an attempt to get him to hover over you once again. without hesitation you press your lips to his once again, tasting yourself in and on his mouth as you kiss him until you can’t breathe. 

his curious hands never stay resting in one spot on your body for longer than a second before he’s exploring somewhere else, his mouth making a path from your lips down to your jaw and neck. the tips of his fingers finally stop when they reach your hips, gripping onto your and flipping you over so your chest is against jay’s car and your ass is up in the air. 

he can’t help himself from ogling at your perfect form all splayed out for him. the curve of your ass is to die for and jay starts subconsciously unbuckling his belt, easing the strain of his pants against his painfully hard dick. 

from your spot on top of the car you begin to grow impatient. your tits are smushed and your neck is craned and even though you just came you’re already ready for another one if it means you get to feel jay filling you up like a cream puff. luckily, you soon feel the tip of jay’s cock dragging through your folds, your still-sensitive clit throbbing slightly when he bumps into it. the sound of jay spitting into his palm joins that of the crickets and your erratic breathing, soon replaced by his sighs of delight as he strokes his cock with his spit covered hand to help lube it up. 

you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in when you finally feel him prod your entrance with his tip, although you can sense some hesitancy. it’s not surprising when the silence is broken by jay asking: “...are you ready?”

he feels his chest tighten when you make a noise of approval followed by a meek nod, your starry eyes glancing back at him as much as you can in this particular position. with a hefty exhale he nods back before slowly starting to sink into you, a low groan making its way out of his chest as he pushes deeper and deeper until his hips are flush with your ass. 

once fully inside of you he remains stagnant for a moment, needing to adjust to how incredibly warm and tight you feel if he wants to last longer than three seconds. soon enough he feels he’s garnered enough collectedness to start moving, so he does. 

his movements are small, almost timid at first. like he’s testing the waters, garnering enough confidence to go harder, faster. your hushed whimpers of pleasure ring in his ears and he teasingly rolls his hips in an attempt to have you feel him impossibly deeper inside of you. 

“j-jay!” you cry when he seemingly bumps your g-spot with the tip of his cock, the muscles of your waist tensing up when he does. wanting to provide you as much pleasure as possible he continues his ministrations, not altering them in any way out of fear of doing something wrong. 

jay feels his stomach start to seize up as a pleasurable burn takes hold in his lower stomach, his vision blurring slightly at the edges as he shifts between groaning aloud and biting his lip so hard he’s worried he’ll break the skin and draw blood. with exercised caution he picks up the pace, ensuring that in this moment you’re still feeling as good as he is. 

his cock slips in and out of your desperate, dripping hole with ease, your hips banging against the unyielding metal hood of his car with each and every thrust. it’s hardly comfortable, but at this moment in time you think you’d rather die than have jay stop - so you persevere. 

“god you’re so good jay, so fucking big,” you praise as you feel your second orgasm of the night approaching steadily. most of your limbs have started to go numb from the position you’re in yet you can feel each and every nerve end slowly begin to burn up, to bring you closer and closer to release. when jay reaches down to toy with your aching clit, you’re done for. 

the slight ache from the way your cunt is stretched around his cock adds to the jolting sensations that come every time he bumps your clit has you so close, so close you can taste the sweet promise of an orgasm dancing on the tip of your tongue. jay feels it too, for he throws all inhibitions to the wind and fucks you from behind with no restraint. 

he can feel his release creep up his spine and spread through all of his limbs until it’s all he can see, taste, and feel. groans continue to spill past his lips as white hot light floods his senses and a blinding orgasm washes over him, which is only strengthened by the sensation of your pussy clenching around his cock as you finish underneath him. he cums inside of your wanting cunt, filling it up to the brim before collapsing on top of you with a grunt. 

seconds turn into minutes and the two of you remain in place, breaths and pulses struggling to return to normal as you come down from an intense high. jay can feel his shirt clinging to his sweaty back, and he scrambles off of you when he realizes he was quite literally resting all of his weight on you.

with a helping hand he helps you sit up, chuckling slightly when your knees turn to jello when you try to stand up. so, you opt to stay seated on the hood of jay’s car for just a few more moments, patting the spot beside you to get him to sit down. you’re sure you look like a mess, but jay gazes at you with something that can only be described as awe.

smitten. captivated. enraptured. allured. 

the pale light of the moon casts a heavenly glow across your face, and he kisses your lips like they’re covered in strawberry syrup. 

a/n: tumblr’s editing system is the biggest piece of garbage i am so sorry if there are any weird glitches or anything but i am literally seconds away from whipping my laptop at the wall out of frustration as i edit this so pls lmk if anything looks weird when this posts lawl thank you

[depravitycentral]

Yandere! Uvogin General Profile

Yandere! Uvogin x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, violence, mentions of non-con, stalking, theft, mentions of masturbation, mentions of assault, reader is referred to as tiny and small but let's be honest everyone is small compared to Uvogin, brief neglect/being ignored, mentions of Stockholm Syndrome, manipulation, threats, isolation, Uvo is a bastard and is somehow charming even though he's obsessed with you, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 12K

DARLING PROFILE

Easily flustered

In many ways, Uvogin desires a darling who is the opposite of him.

He likes the idea of a darling who is more innocent, and while this doesn’t have to manifest as being literally naïve or just not being a mass murderer like him, he finds it endearing.

There’s just something about having a darling who is a little softer, a little weaker, a little cuter that just makes him smug.

He likes thinking that his darling is just so damn cute, and he isn’t afraid to tell them as much; he’s teasing them constantly, every other word slipping past his lips a mixture of flirtations and cheeky compliments, and the minute his darling looks bashful or flustered?

Well, it’ll only embarrass them more when he starts laughing, enjoying the sight of them all frustrated and embarrassed, a big hand coming down to playfully scruff up their hair.

 He’ll tell them that they’re cute, that he likes their smile, that they’re probably the prettiest woman he’s even seen, and the moment they freeze up a bit, their eyes going slightly wide before scowling and trying to hide how flattered they are, he’s only falling harder, loving the way they try to fight the effect he has on them.

And really, that’s what it comes down to – he likes to see the way their body betrays them, his compliments getting a rise out of them even when he’s got them stolen away in his modest apartment, touting all this big declarations of hatred towards him.

(Yet they fall apart at a simple compliment of their tummy or thighs – he knows these are spots of insecurities, and is it dirty to be playing the card of focusing on the area he knows his darling is sensitive about? Maybe, but he’s never exactly been ‘clean’.)

He just loves the idea of his cute little darling being a flustered mess with just a few touches and words, and he’s capitalizing on this personality trait as often as he can get away with – smacking their ass or kissing their knuckles or winking at them or even just telling them in that nonchalant voice that they look hot as hell in his clothes.

They’re just endearing, and he’s always been honest – so don’t get too upset when he speaks his mind.

Creative

There’s something about a darling with a hobby that he likes.

Maybe it’s the product of seeming they become genuinely passionate about something they love, or perhaps it’s simply just seeing them concentrate and put energy into creating something.

Uvogin doesn’t know, but regardless his ideal darling has some sort of creative hobby that he’s more than willing to help nurture. It can be anything, really – perhaps they draw or paint, or maybe they write or cook. Maybe they knit or sew, or perhaps they sing or play an instrument.

It doesn’t really matter what the hobby is – Uvogin just likes that his darling has an outlet for letting out all their energy, and he’s more than willing to sit through any kind of performances or viewings or anything at all where his darling can show off all their hard work.

He’s already spoiling his darling once they’ve been kidnapped, but he’s stealing supplies that pertain to his darling’s favorite hobbies, making sure they have a lifetime supply of paints or yarn or paper or cloth or anything their little heart desires.

He likes to see them smile, to watch them get all starry eyed and passionate, and often he'll simply plop down and watch them go at it, staring at them as they indulge in their hobby.

He'll even be willing to learn if his darling is willing to teach them – having massive hands makes most creative pursuits difficult, but he likes the way his darling’s hands cover his own as they teach him how to make the brush strokes or press down on piano keys, the skin soft and warm and perfect against his own.

He just likes the attention of it, the idea that they’re sharing something intimate and personal with him, and it only makes his possessiveness flare up, satisfaction swimming through him because obviously his darling is warming up to him, because why else would they spend so much time with him, teaching him and being patient as he purposefully messes up just to get them to show him again, to touch him again?

Snarky

Uvogin likes the idea of a darling who can dish it out back at him. He’s teasing by nature, always throwing quips and little one-liners at his darling, and the idea of his darling returning this teasing energy or even initiating it makes him feel a little weak in the knees, both impressed and aroused by their quick thinking and wit.

There’s just something attractive about being put in his place, and although the power dynamic between him and his darling is unquestionably in his favor, there’s something sweet about pretending that they have any semblance of control in the relationship.

He likes the idea of having a more ‘normal’ relationship with his darling, and the tendency they have to throw little comments at him help to make the relationship feel less like captor and captee, less like lovesick freak and victim, and more like two people hopelessly in love, enjoying one another’s company and never, ever leaving each other.

Of course, this trait can be pushed too far – Uvogin doesn’t want someone mean. There’s a fine line between teasing and rudeness, and he wants his darling to perhaps occasionally toe the line, but be firmly on the side of the former. He’s not interested in being critiqued or judged – it should be fun hearted, light, loving, even if he pulls information out of the blue that he really, really shouldn’t know.

(Like their banking information, or their biggest insecurities, or anything at all, really.)

He just wants someone he can banter with, his booming laugh filling the room when his darling catches him off guard with something funny and unexpected, and he’ll return the favor tenfold.

(And if he can’t think of a witty enough retort, he’ll just push them over the nearest surface, rip off those pesky shorts, and bury his face against their cunt until they’re crying and sobbing his name – the best comeback of all, he’d argue.)

Compassionate

Because he wants someone opposite of himself in many ways, a darling who is more compassionate and considerate of others is oddly attractive to him.

He can’t quite pinpoint why – he’s always believed it’s a sign of weakness to be so attentive to the needs and desires of others, but there’s something different about it when it’s his darling who’s stopping and worrying about how others feel.

It’s annoying, he’ll admit, because it stirs up his jealousy; why should his darling care what other people think and feel?

All that really matters is him – he’s all they need, so why are they wasting time on thinking of how someone on the news must be scared and all shaken up because they got robbed last night?

(It wasn’t even a real, meaningful robbery – just some low level thugs looking to make a quick buck, so why are they sympathizing with the woman crying on the TV about how she can’t afford rent now because the robbers stole her stashed away cash?)

Why do they waste precious energy into worrying about how strangers on the bus are feeling when they’re crying or clearly upset, their expressions clear as day as they stare down at their phone or bite their wobbling lips?

He thinks it’s a waste of his darling’s time, frankly, and instead would prefer all of this energy and care to become channeled towards him. He wants to take up every free thought his darling has, to be constantly on their mind as they are his, and he gets equal parts angry and jealous when there’s someone or something else taking up the precious space he’s claimed as his own.

It’s frustrating, but it’s one of the things he likes most about his darling – they’re just so sweet and soft and pure, even, that it makes him feel like he’s ruining something angelic, like his darling is his own personal bit of heaven all for him him him.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS

Possessive

Can he really be blamed?

He’s spent his adult life being a thief, stealing from anyone and everyone he’s told to, and Uvo sees absolutely no problem with it – you’re his, after all, and he’s never been especially great at sharing.

In his mind, you’re something that he’s claimed, something that is completely and utterly his, and once he’s set his mind to something, there is absolutely nothing anyone can do to sway him.

He’s stubborn to a fault, and when it comes to you this trait is only increased – so really, when he slowly becomes more and more controlling, more and more needy for your attention, don’t fight it too much.

Don’t be too surprised when his question of whether you’d like to hang out on Saturday morphs into you don’t have anything going on Saturday night, right? Shit, of course not, how could you when you’ll be spending time with me on my couch, eating pizza from that place downtown you love?

Don’t be too surprised when he starts gently but firmly grasping the phone out of your hand when someone calls you, dark eyes appraising the caller ID before he scoffs or rolls his eyes, muttering out a some people are real pieces of work, huh and quickly declining the call and blocking the number, all so quickly that you don’t even really get a chance to see who even called you.

Don’t be surprised when he cheekily asks you if you’re wearing matching a matching set of panties and bra, and if you answer an embarrassed yes and tell him about this date you’re going on that you’re nervous for, absolutely do not be surprised that the ceramic mug you’d given Uvo with a cup of steaming coffee in it is shattered in his grip, the grin on his face just a bit too tight, his form suddenly much larger than you consciously remember as he growls out a strained who’s this ‘date’, pretty girl?

Frankly, Uvogin has a talent at passing most things off as a joke at the start of his infatuation with you – he’s just charming and friendly enough that he can make most things seem funny, like teasing, like you’re just overreacting and blowing things out of proportion.

He’ll make you believe he joking when he pats your head and calls you his good girl, because that’s just a term of endearment he’s always called his friends – don’t let it make you uncomfortable, that’s just how he is!

(It most certainly is not – he’d never call Shizuku or Pakunoda or Machi that, too terrified for his own well being to ever have the guts to try something like that. Plus, he’d never want to – you’re his woman, and why should he give a shit about any other female on the planet? You’re all he’ll ever need, just as he’s all you should ever need.)

Surely you’re reading too much into it when he wraps his burly arms around you and spins you around in the air, his lips against your skin as he rambles praises of you, the hickey that forms later that night just coincidental to the location of his rather eager ‘talking’.

(He’s just a passionate man – he didn’t mean to give you a hickey. Don’t you know that he gets animated when he talks, his lips moving quickly, and it’s all just one big coincidence that it happened to be right over your jugular, a sensitive, intimate area reserved for lovers.)

You must be mistaken when he lunges at another man who dared to compliment your hairstyle, the oddly sincere threat of get your eyes off of her before I rip them out myself, you hear me making your blood run cold.

(He’ll tell you that he and the guy who’d complimented you were actually long time friends, and that this sort of threatening and joking around is typical for the two of them – he’ll shrug and tell you that boys will be boys, hoping you’ll take him at face value and not mention how the man seemed to be equally as shocked as you.)

It’s easy to let him talk you out of whatever doubts about him you have, his insistence that he was just playing around, trying to get a rise out of you convincing you much easier than it should.

And really, your willingness to believe him can stem from your own naivety, but if you’re being really honest you know there’s some selfish part of you that almost likes the attention Uvo gives you, the way he’s always touching you and smiling at you, making you feel precious and valued and wanted. You’ve just never felt so wholly seen and understood, almost as if he has this innate ability to understand you, as if you’re connected in some deeper way.

(He always seems to just know things about you, always guessing your favorite things correctly, and if he didn’t have such a bright smile and convincing laugh, you’d almost be unnerved and afraid of how eerily accurate his guesses are. Stalking is the answer, of course, but it’s best that you remain in the dark about that until the time is right.)

It’s a slippery slope though, because as soon as Uvogin realizes that you’re sweeping things under the rug, he’ll get more and more aggressive with his possessiveness, feeling more and more justified as he threatens and fights others, his passing remarks about you being his becoming more specific and explicit, his jokes about just whisking you away one day becoming more and more frequent, more and more detailed and well thought out and terrifying.

He’ll push the boundaries, but the minute he senses he may have crossed the line, there’s that familiar laughing man you think you know, that smile and calming voice telling you that you’ve got it all wrong sweetcheeks, I’m just giving you a good time, of course I don’t own you – I don’t have enough money to buy something so gorgeous!

It’ll work, frankly, until you suddenly realize that you haven’t seen or talked to another person aside from Uvogin in over a month, his face and voice all you’re met with as the days fly by, other people becoming more and more scarce as he slowly begins taking over your life.

Everything with him is a slow process, a gentle yet unstoppable path under which Uvogin will slowly become more and more obsessed, and less and less willing to simply share.

After all, being a thief has its perks – he’s just never had to work so hard for something so easy to simply steal away. 

Protective

Uvo is extremely aware of his own strength; it’s a point of pride after all, being the physically strongest member of the Troupe. His muscles are beyond noticeable, bulging and standing proudly even when he’s relaxed, even when his arms are covered with layers of fabric.

He’s just huge, giant and powerful, and you’re just not.

You’re so very small compared to him – small and sweet and fucking adorable, so completely opposite of himself.

And to Uvo, it’s incredibly endearing but also incredibly nerve wracking, because what if he one day slips up and hugs you too tight, grabs your wrist too strongly, or accidentally breaks a limb?

The idea of hurting you is something that makes him physically ill, his stomach churning in vile knots while a cold sweat breaks out as his hairline, if only because the idea of you crying, bruised or bleeding and staring at him like he’s some sort of monster would be enough to break him.

He wants you to love him, not to fear him. You’re the one person on this planet that he wants to look at him with adoration and reverence, like he’s some sort of god, just as he looks at you. And if he were to injure you, to accidentally go too far and leave a bruise or scar or break something?

He would never forgive himself, and he’s sure you’d never forgive him – and that would simply be unacceptable, a huge setback in the love he’s trying to very hard to create between the two of you.

He doesn’t want to hurt you on any level, and as a result he’s developed the habit of treating you as if you were made of glass, a lovely porcelain doll that’s his job to protect and keep pristine.

It doesn’t matter if you’re a skilled nen user yourself or whether you’ve never even punched someone before – Uvo will be keeping his place at your side, ready to step in at a moment’s notice in the case of anything or anyone trying to harm you, to which he’ll ruthlessly beat down and murder because no one fucking touches you.

He will be carrying you around your ‘shared’ home, wrapping you up in his arms and snuggling your face into his neck while he brings you from the bedroom to the couch for a movie marathon of those cheesy sports action films he seems to love.

He will be forcing you to sit still while he has Machi do a quick check up on you every few weeks, making sure that you’re healthy – though he never leaves the room, always hovering and staring at you, making sure Machi doesn’t get too comfortable with you.

(And no, the pink haired woman will be absolutely no help to you to escape – while she and Uvo aren’t particularly close, she’s still happy to see her troupemate in love, happy to see that he himself is happy, and surely he isn’t treating you badly if you come up perfectly healthy and bruise free every checkup, right? Machi honestly won’t even talk to you much – simple, curt answers to your questions, and not a single smile in sight. You’ll almost prefer talking to your kidnapper over her as time goes on.)

He wants you to be completely safe and healthy, and while he isn’t the best at cooking or any of the domestic fields he knows of, he still tries his best – expect a homecooked meal a few nights in months where he’s home, a sizzling breakfast that looks just a bit too charred on mornings when he’s spent hours staring at the sun softly glowing on your face.

The food might be overcooked, bland and a bit limp, but at the grin on his face and the way he brings the spoon up to your lips and tells you to open that mouth babe, I spent two hours making this casserole – wanna see you eat every last piece, it’s more than obvious that he’s proud, that he’s chosen foods high in proteins and vitamins, anything to make you healthy and stronger.

At first, his overbearing concern for your wellbeing won’t be too extreme – he doesn’t want to scare you off after all, and he’s able to keep most of the urges at bay aside from the occasional check over your body while you’re asleep.

He can sate himself by rationalizing that you’re with him now, that you’re safe and accounted for, that he was with you all day so there’s no way you somehow hurt yourself without him knowing, right?

And it works for a while, his paranoia growing stronger by the day but still just barely able to be quelled by this logic.

Except, as time goes on, Uvo just can’t help it – his feelings for you are too strong, too intense and overpowering to hold back, and soon he gives up completely. It’s his job to protect you, right?

He’s your lover, your man, and what sort of partner would he be if he isn’t keeping his you safe, if he’s not making sure that you’re adequately provided for, if he’s not diligently checking you over himself, analyzing every inch of your body to make sure you haven’t grown sick or somehow managed to scrape yourself without him knowing.

After all, you’re his cute little woman, his sweet baby that he’d kill everyone and everything for – is it so wrong to want to protect you, the literal light of his life?

Clingy

Uvogin has a massive problem when it comes to allotting his time with you in reasonable quantities. He really, really likes to spend time with you – you’re the best part of his day, the reason (aside from the thrill of combat and the Troupe) that he’s still living, that he still gets up every day.

You get his heart pumping in something other than adrenaline and pleasure when he’s beating someone senseless, and Uvogin’s never been good at denying himself pleasure. Being around you is like a shot of serotonin, his entire mood brightening no matter what happened previously, this ache in his chest quelling because you’re here now, right beside him where you belong.

He’s genuinely attached to you – you’re perfect in his eyes, his lovely little woman that he wants to love and spoil, and Uvogin quickly develops the desire to spend as much time with you as he possibly can.

You’re just so sweet and pretty and adorable, and fuck you make him so happy, so how can he possibly hold himself back from wanting to spend every second of the day with you?

How can he possibly be blamed for wanting to see your smile as often as he can, hear your chiming, lovely laugh, feel your soft hands against the hard planes of his muscles as often as he can?

Uvogin quickly becomes attached to you, thoughts of you taking up his mind, your face dancing behind his eyelids as your gorgeous eyes sparkle, your hair ruffled by the breeze as you laugh and reach out for his hand, telling him in that lovely sing-song voice of yours to come on, I want to see the fireworks before they end once he takes you on all those adorable, sweet dates he knows you’re dreaming of.

He’s almost a closeted romantic in that sense, and while he’s never really daydreamed about big, grand gestures between partners before, there’s just something about you that makes him want to buy dozens of bouquets of flowers, steal the most expensive, precious jewelry, wine and dine you until you’re giggling and leaning onto him for support.

That is to say, Uvogin is a complete and utter sap for you.

He wants to see you smile and look at him, to give him your attention and need him like he needs you, to the point where he’s not making any attempts to hide it.

He’s not trying to be discreet when he wraps an arm around your waist and plants a loud, dramatic kiss against the crown of your head; no, he wants you to hear it, to feel the weight of his arm around you and his lips against your skin, if only because you get so cute when you’re all flustered, when you shrink in on yourself and smack his stomach, hissing a quit it, that’s so embarrassing!

He’s not trying to be subtle when he calls your name from several meters away, waving a hand and sending you a smirk as he begins a loud, one sided conversation with you, hoping to draw as much attention to himself as possible so that you’ll be looking at him and only him, even if he gets chewed out by you later for causing such a spectacle in public.

(Not that he cares – not only does he not give a single shit what other people think, there’s something so sexy about the way you huff and yell, waving your arms around and sounding so exasperated, your voice high and irritated and saying his name…)

Long story short, Uvogin doesn’t make a single attempt to hide the way he’s always desperate to talk to you, to have your eyes on him, to just be with him, to the point where you’ll probably know that he holds romantic intentions towards you fairly early on – with how touchy he is and the way he’s always seeming to just be there when you’re in town, or the way he always shows up at your apartment, holding takeout from your favorite restaurant and giving you those smoldering eyes you just can’t say no to.

(And he is touchy – he’s always pressing his fingertips against your waist, the small of your back, your shoulder, tucking your hair behind your ear, tracing your collarbone or lips, or even, when he gets a bit bolder, dipping down to playfully smack your ass.)

You’ll know, and Uvogin knows you’ll know – that’s part of the plan after all, because while he’s a mass murderer and criminal that somehow has decided he wants you for his own no matter the consequences, he still would prefer for you to be in love with him, to enjoy your time spent with him and genuinely want him, and don’t women love men who show they care?

He won’t give you any mixed messages, but the trade off is that Uvogin will want every possible second of your time, and there won’t be a single thing that happens in your life that the taller man isn’t aware of – how could he not be, with your phone tapped, and all the trackers, cameras, and audio devices Shalnark helped provide him with?

 Uvogin wants to know every bit of your business, to be invested and participating in every aspect of your life, and he will – whether you know it or not, he’ll always be there.

Even once he’s stolen you away, he’ll be hovering and touchy, hugging you and teasing you, that grin on his face trying to pretend that you’re happy, that you’re in love with him, that you’re right where you fucking belong. 

But in the event that he’s taken away from you, forced to spend periods of time where he can’t be your shadow for the day, Uvogin resorts to other measures so as not to lose his mind from not getting to smell your scent or feel your skin or hear your voice.

That is, he begins collecting items of yours – small things, mostly, things he’s sure you won’t miss to terribly. He’s snatching away old hair ties of yours, right on the verge of snapping, still containing a few strands of your hair that he cherishes and sometimes idly plays with when he’s forced to wait for other members of the Troupe to arrive at meeting locations.

He’s got an old water bottle or two of yours that you think you accidentally misplaced while you were out, but really he stole it right from under your nose, having watched your pretty lips wrap around the straw piece, suctioning and sucking and swallowing, the sight provocative enough to be the star of many, many fantasies he’s played out in detail late at night.

Even your old toothbrushes, misplaced socks or even a pillowcase you thought the washer ate up are in his collection – they’re just things to help him sate himself when he’s forced to be away from you, things to help him stay sane. It’s almost like he’s an addict going through withdrawal – he needs your things in order to not be horribly short tempered and difficult to work with, and in many ways, your belongings are the only things keeping him functional.

So don’t worry too much when you begin realizing just how many of your things are missing – unexplained items that you swear you had yesterday but seemed to have disappeared over the course of the night.

They’re not unaccounted for, so don’t worry – besides, when you’re eventually living under the same roof as him, you’ll be reunited with all your stolen belongings.

(Just don’t mention the mysterious stains the socks and pillowcase now have, nor the way the toothbrush looks to be in much, much worse shape than when you lost it – almost as if someone has been regularly using it.)

Uvogin just loves you, and is it so wrong for him to be so needy, clingy, desperate for you?

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Patience isn’t really Uvogin’s strong suit.

His possessiveness makes jealousy something extremely common, and in general he’s overly sensitive to any possible interaction between you and another man. He absolutely cannot stand another person looking at you, watching their disgusting eyes rake over your figure, their tongues dancing out to flick over their lips, minds surely filled with vile, impure thoughts that make Uvogin clench his fist and work his jaw.

He hates seeing others try to talk to you, thinking they’re worth your precious time, and although he rationally knows that not every single man you encounter probably has nefarious intentions, he’s very, very quick to jump to conclusions.

And frankly, why shouldn’t he?

Those he holds dear are all criminals, and while not all of them see women as objects (though, some definitely do), he’s more than aware of how filthy and dehumanizing some men can be towards women. And with the amount of people you come into contact with every day, surely some percentage of them must want something more sinister.

And so, Uvogin assumes the role of your guardian angel – just with much, much darker intentions and methodology. He can’t stand the thought of someone else coming along and trying to seduce you, and while this anger doesn’t stem from any sort of insecurity in his own ability to woo you, it doesn’t matter.

The end result is still the same – he’s still regarding every man that comes within twenty feet of you as being suspicious, eyeing them critically and watching like a hawk to see if anything they do – anything at all – is a sign that they’re paying you unwanted attention.

He’s quickly noticing any signs; glances aimed at you that are longer than the cursory appraisal of one’s surroundings, any sort of shuffling or leaning closer to you, any move to look at your clothing or the title of the book you’re reading out of on the subway car.

He’s diligent, taking his job in protecting you extremely seriously, and he’s good at it, too – the moment something seems even slightly suspicious, he has no issue making his presence known.

Frankly, just the mere sight of him is enough to ward off most men, because who wouldn’t be terrified when an eight foot tall man with bulging muscles, an intense aura, and a deep frown settled onto his face approaches you?

He’s effective, and while it may seem like overkill to you, like he’s simply imagining up these interactions he claims could end poorly for you, you’ll just sigh and roll your eyes, writing off his strange behavior as typical Uvogin, always making jokes that he takes just a hair too far.

And this is good for him – it works in his favor to have you disregarding when his possessiveness flairs up. It irritates him that you aren’t appreciating all his efforts and the care he puts into making sure no men bother you, but it's better this way – you won’t get suspicious of him this way, nor will you start becoming afraid of him when you see all the missing persons reports that always seem to feature men he’s scared off.

It just makes things easier – and Uvogin won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

It's a nice, sunny day out, and Uvogin can’t help but be glad he’d chosen this park to take you to.

It’s near your apartment, and although there’s a lot of people here (lots of children and parents, mostly, but the occasional runner or elderly person getting their exercise), you’d managed to snag the spot most secluded, between a grouping of trees. He’d been wanting today to be a nice date – parks weren’t his thing, but you seemed to enjoy the idea of a picnic, and just the thought of you smiling up at him and getting all excited and happy and adorable was all the motivation he needed to go out and steal some snacks and a cute, checkered picnic blanket.

He felt stupid setting it all up, biting at his thumb and furrowing his brows to make sure everything was perfectly placed, but the moment you showed up, it was all worth it. You’d been so happy – beaming at him and practically jumping up and down, eagerly tearing into the basket of goodies and plopping down onto the admittedly quite small blanket.

Sure, maybe you didn’t think this was a date, per se, but Uvogin has spent the whole time watching you, gaze flicking between your lips and your eyes as you ranted about the latest drama at your workplace.

He’d chimed in a few times, telling you with a serious voice that he’s told you to quit working at that shithole; you don’t get paid enough to deal with all that crap. Plus, you don’t need to work – I can support you, I promise. I’ll spoil you, make sure you’ve got everything you could ever want.

He'll pair that with a little wiggle of his bushy eyebrows, making you snort and laugh at his - you wrongly assume – joke. That gets a grin slipping across his lips, pride and satisfaction sitting heavy in his chest because you just look so damn cute when you’re laughing like that, and even more so when you’re laughing because of him. Everything is going well – you’re smiling between bites of food (all your favorite snacks of course, down to the exact brands and flavors), and it’s not until you suddenly remember that you’d left something in your car that things begin going downhill.

It’s not a big deal, really – just a Chapstick that you offhandedly mention you wished you’d brought to the picnic with you, your lips feeling a little chapped from the crisp spring air.

(Immediately his eyes are darting to your lips, watching and having to force back a groan when he sees your tongue dart out to lick them, the sight nearly making him lose his composure.)

He’s standing up without giving you a second to think, squatting down and swiping your keys out of your pocket, sending you a wink and telling you to wait here, princess, I’ll be right back. You don’t even have time to protest and tell him it’s really no big deal (or tell him the location of said Chapstick in your car – useless information, really, because Uvogin knows exactly where you keep it, mostly because he’s used it before himself).

He can’t have been gone for longer than five minutes, spinning the keys on a finger and smiling despite himself, reliving your smile and laughter over and over in his mind, trying with all his might to keep himself from imagining the sight of you licking your lips lest he start imagining you licking other things, things that would be much bigger and harder and throbbing for you -  

Uvogin notices the man that’s approached your secluded spot a bit too late, it seems. He’s already standing next to you, chatting with you and being much, much too close for comfort as far as Uvogin is concerned.

His fist tightens around the Chapstick clutched in his left hand, nearly hard enough to crack the plastic. His brows are pressed inward, dipping down, a scowl replacing his smile, his feet moving faster and faster to bring him back towards you and this stranger.

Once he’s within ear shot, he’s immediately calling out your name much too loudly, stopping and standing on your other side with a hand on his hip and his aura heavy, the grin on his face just slightly too tight.

The man blinks, beady brown eyes staring up at Uvogin owlishly, the size difference more than apparent as Uvogin stands up just a bit straighter, making sure he’s reaching his full height. He even flexes his muscles a bit, hoping to appear bigger, stronger, better, both to intimidate this man and to have you admiring his physique.

Can I help you?

His voice is curt, not the usual friendliness you’re used to, and immediately you’re frowning, opening your mouth to speak from your position still sitting on the ground, but the stranger beats you to it.

I, uh, I was just getting some directions. Sorry man, I didn’t mean to interrupt.

Uvogin’s eye twitches. Directions, huh? What are you, stupid?

You gasp at that, swatting out and smacking his calf lightly. He makes no acknowledgement of your action, but internally he hums at the attention and the slight bit of pained pleasure that shoots up his spine.

The man looks taken aback, offense and unease swimming in those eyes of his. Listen, I’ll just go, have a nice day.

He nods at Uvogin, and quickly nods at you too – making Uvogin’s grip on the Chapstick finally crack the plastic – and swivels on his heel, taking off in a poorly masked jog. Uvogin watches him the whole way, his gaze so heavy that the man feels it even from some fifty yards away.

Eventually you bring him out of his stupor, your arms crossed and an irritated look crossing your face. Uvogin sighs, finding your attitude a bit adorable, but also finding himself a bit preoccupied. Chasing down that guy later would be a pain, but he’d manage – it’d give him something to do, after all, because he could only spend so many nights a week standing in the doorway of your bedroom with his dark eyes trained on your sleeping body, his hand sometimes diligently stroking himself.

It'd be fun, too.

What the hell was that? You’re asking him, the honest to god pout you’re giving him making him chuckle and pat your head.

Just man stuff, you wouldn’t get it, babe.

His comment only seems to anger you further, and you snatch the bag of chips he’d picked up out of his hands. Nuh-uh, you don’t get to be a dick to someone who was genuinely just asking for help and then eat all the food. No fucking way.

At that he laughs aloud, plopping down onto the blanket (much closer to you than he was before), picking up another bag of chips and throwing a few into his mouth. Get off your high horse sweetie, must be hard for a shortie like you to get up there.

You send another smack to his leg and this time he pretends to be hurt, clutching at his wound and telling you to kiss it better, a comment you only dignify with a piece of bread being flung at his face.

The picnic goes well, uninterrupted for the rest of the afternoon, but that night Uvogin stays true to his word, stalking through the backstreets of the area he’d narrowed down the man’s apartment being in.

It didn’t matter that the man hadn’t made a move against you, or didn’t say anything to make you uncomfortable – he’d approached you, talked to you, looked at you, and that was enough to warrant a punishment so severe that he may not get to even apply his newly learned rule of absolutely no contact with you.

And as Uvogin sends punch after punch flying at the man’s face when he tackles him in the man’s own living room sometime around midnight, he can only laugh, the grin spread across his face maniacal at best.

Eventually the corpse is so bloody and mangled that Uvogin finds himself satisfied, getting up off the straddling position he’d forced the man into, wiping his hands – covered with red – off onto the man’s kitchen towel, before strolling out the front door, whistling a tune and already deciding on which path is the shortest to get back to your apartment.

You should be asleep by now – and you always look prettiest right when you’ve just slipped under, your pretty face all relaxed and sweet and soft, making him sigh and slightly laugh at himself because when the hell did he get so damn soft?

Since he met you, really, because you just have such an affect on him.

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Truth be told, while there’s nothing more in the world that Uvogin wants than to have you secure at his side, in a little home for the two of you where you can be together, alone, and living a perfectly sweet domestic life, he’s hesitant to force this situation to happen.

In general, he isn’t an especially forceful or strict yandere – of course, he doesn’t like seeing other men around you, seeing you doing dangerous things or interacting with people he knows are bad for you, but Uvogin is more or less lenient when it comes to what you want, with a few harsh exceptions (anything involving your safety, or another man).

Your freedom is something that he wants to preserve as much as he can, if only because he firmly believes that once your basic rights are taken away, you’ll no longer be the woman he’s fallen in love with, the person he’s become so horribly and wonderfully obsessed with to a pathetic degree.

He’s scared you’ll become a shell of your former self, that the woman he’s so desperate to spend the rest of his waking moments with will disappear forever, and while Uvogin doesn’t have too stellar a moral compass, even he knows that erasing your past identity is a step too far – stalking you, stealing your clothing and small trinkets, threatening others and killing in your name may not be, but actually stealing you is something that doesn’t sit right with him.

That isn’t to say, however, that the possibility of him kidnapping you is non-existent – he’s hesitant, but not unwilling, and so the moment that your safety is threatened, that something sudden happens that he can’t control or hope to fix, Uvogin will feel backed into a corner, as if he has no option but to simply take you away, to bite the bullet and keep you locked up with him forever.

He doesn’t feel good about it, of course, if only because seeing you in tears and hearing you sob and curse at him makes a massive frown replace that normally bright grin, but it’s reality, and to Uvo your safety is his number one priority.

So, he’ll wince and grit his teeth as the damn Hunters tie the rope around your wrists, the nasty smirk across one’s face as they tell him they got his precious woman, what now, you murderer? You’ll come and save her, because you’re such a knight in shining armor? Fucking pathetic, you’ll rot for years for what you’ve done.

He’ll sigh and ball his fists as he quietly apologizes to you, your scared, teary eyes staring right at him as he kills each Hunter one by one, telling you to look away as blood sprays everywhere, as his fists get dirtier and dirtier.

He won’t like the way he gently knocks you out (or the way you scream through the gag placed in your mouth and squirm around, trying your hardest to get away from him), nor will he enjoy the way your weight feels so heavy in his heart as he slings you over his shoulder and carries you home, but he can’t stop now.

How can he, when you’ve been discovered by another man, touched by another man, threatened by someone?

Uvogin’s only human, and every human has a weakness – so congratulations, because your status as his only weakness just became the reason for your former life to end. 

However, as a captor Uvogin is honestly not too terrible – he’s still clingy, always desiring your attention and trying to engage you in conversations or physical touch, but considering his status as an international criminal, he’s not too bad.

You’ll quickly learn that he has a massive penchant for spoiling you to no end; there’s nothing that he enjoys more than seeing you in awe or smiling, the way your lips tilt up and the apples of your cheeks grow round, how your eyes sparkle and you make the cutest expressions.

He strives to see you happy (preferably because of him, but he’s not too picky), so expect to be regularly gifted items with the intent of seeing your smile, of seeing you enjoy something that he provided you with.

You’ll get the nicest jewels – tones to match your eyes, colors that compliment your skin, matching sets to go with the gold rings on his fingers or the silver dog tags he occasionally wears.

You’ll get the prettiest dresses, custom designed by brand names, fitting your figure like a glove and never failing to make Uvogin’s breath hitch.

(More than once he’s stopped dead in his tracks upon seeing you in a newly bought gown, clutched his heart and closed his eyes, moaning something about how you’re too beautiful, it burns my eyes! The theatrics are sweet, you suppose, and though you’ll feel dirty for it, often the praise and the honest adoration in those swirling brown depths of his will leave a fluttery, warm feeling in your chest.)

There’s just something about making you happy that never fails to leave Uvogin feeling giddy and childish, a boyish excitement coursing through his veins that almost beats out the feeling of smashing his opponent’s skull in. And so, he strives to make you smile in every possible way he can – he spoils you, of course, but he also possesses such vast knowledge on you from all that stalking that he knows exactly what you like.

He knows just how to compliment you – he’ll know if you prefer comments on your appearance or your personality or your talents, effortlessly praising you with such ferocity and consistency that it’ll leave you bashful and embarrassed but so, so pleased.

He knows what kind of men you like – he knows which TV shows, movies, books, and stories you read, which tropes you adore, and try to alter himself just a hair so that he fits that stereotype a little more.

(He won’t be willing to fully change himelf, because he does want you to love him, but he’s not above playing up his more possessive or aggressive side if you like the bad boy type, or showing off his actually decent cooking skills if you enjoy a more responsible man, or even busting out more corny, bad puns if you prefer funnier, goofier men.)

He’s pulling out all the acts of services he knows you’ll find meaningful – you hate having to shave your legs? Let him do it for you – he’s good at that sort of thing, and of course he wouldn’t mind holding your legs or putting on the lotion for you afterwards.

(Plus, you aren’t allowed to use a razor by yourself – but that’s beside the point.)

He’s even going so far as to recreate sexual scenarios and acts he knows you have a penchant for – even if you possess a kink he isn’t super interested in, he’s willing to give it a try because he wants you to want to touch him, and even if wax or mutual masturbation or anything else isn’t his thing, if it gets you eager and in the mood for him, he’ll snap to it in a heartbeat.

He is, all things considered, a good captor – he treats you well and caters to your every need, but no one is perfect, and the only major downside of being stuck with him is his touchiness.

He’s clingy, incredibly so – he’s always touching you, his hands on your body in some capacity, regardless of whether you approve or not. He won’t force you into sex, but he will force you into intimacy, whether that be a casual arm around your waste, a kiss against your lips, or cuddling you to sleep at night.

He almost views it as his reward for being so kind and considerate with you – he’s showing immense self control by not ripping off your clothes and fucking you full of his cum right here on the floor, so let him pull you into his side and wrap an arm around your shoulder while you watch the TV, yeah?

He’s showcasing just how strongly he respects your opinion of him by not pushing you to your knees and shoving his cock down your throat, so let him hum and spoon you as you both drift off to sleep, his hot breath fanning against your ear. He’s just always touching you – and while it often leads to lewd activities, the roots of why he always wants to touch you and have contact between the two of you is much more innocent.

He strongly expresses his love through physical touch, and he feels that by always having your skin touching he’s helping build the framework for your relationship, that every touch and kiss and squeeze is helping you fall in love with him, encouraging you to relax in his presence and even enjoy being with him.

So, frankly, if you can put up with his handsiness and the fact that you’ll never be allowed outside or see another human being, Uvogin’s not too terrible – it could be much, much worse, and he won’t hesitate to tell you that.

He doesn’t like to, but telling you stories of how horrible some of his troupemates can be will get the job done on making you grateful that he’s the one who’s fallen for you – at least he doesn’t hurt you, at least he doesn’t mess with people’s memories, at least he doesn’t enjoy torturing others and hearing them scream.

(He’ll conveniently forget to mention that he does enjoy killing others, but throwing Feitan under the bus and framing him in a negative light is much more conducive to the point he’s trying to make.)

So really, be grateful that Uvogin is the one who’s gone through all the effort to follow you, observe you, love you, because really, that’s all he is – just a man in love. And isn’t that so, so very sweet?

The fact that you’re stuck under the same roof, unable to escape or ignore him or deny his affections may deter this lovely image of him as a lovesick man, but eventually you’ll come around. Just wait.

PUNISHMENTS:

Because Uvogin is generally a more laid-back yandere (particularly once you’re in his custody, where he knows you can’t escape – at least, not permanently), punishments are things that actually don’t happen too often.

He really prefers to see you smile, loving the way your laugh sounds when he tells horrible jokes or makes snide comments that get you giggling.

He loves the way you smile at him, pearly teeth showing off and your cheeks plumping up, looking perfect and squishy and like the ideal spot to reach out and pinch.

He loves when you get all flustered, your bashful expression making him lick his lips and rush forward to grab at your ass and kiss you, growling in your ear that you’re too damn cute when you get all stuttery, makes me wanna eat you up.

He’s genuinely endeared by you, and because of this it’s extremely hard for him to stay mad at you. Sure, fleeting irritation occasionally licks at him, particularly towards the beginning of his obsession when you were still rebellious, still crying when you saw him, still flinching at every act of affection he tried to give you. He was irritated, yes, but never angry – you’re too sweet and small and weak to be too much for him to handle, really, and although he never would, the fact that he could very, very easily overpower you always brings him back down to Earth, managing to calm down enough to not accidentally strike you across the face or snap your neck or  bite you or any number of things.

(Besides, biting you is reserved for the bedroom, as is wrapping his hand around your neck and oh, shit, now he’s hard. Well, you caused it, so now, as he stares at you with lidded eyes and that familiar, coy smile, you have to take care of it.)

It generally takes a lot for him to get mad enough at you to actually consider giving you the consequences of your actions – mainly, he has two big triggers.

The first one is causing any kind of harm to yourself. Sure, you may not be strong enough to hurt him, but you’re so delicate and weak that he’s convinced even a particularly strong gust of wind could kill you.

(Obviously not, but anyone that can’t use Nen or anything more than basic defense is automatically as good as dead in his mind.)

He’s not as able to seamlessly and tightly control your own actions against yourself. He can limit what you have access to (no sharp knives, razors or heavy, metal items that could clause blunt force trauma), but it’s harder to prevent you from starving yourself or breaking a bone.

And frankly, that scares Uvo a bit – he doesn’t like that he can’t bar you from harming yourself, and the moment he sees even a glimmer of it in your eye, he's shutting it down firmly and swiftly, his grip on your wrist iron clad as he glares down at you and tells you think this through, babe, because I ain’t nursing you back to recovery, and we both know you don’t know shit about setting broken bones.

His second trigger is when you make attempts to contact other people. He’s possessive to a fault, and while it would be extremely difficult for you to successfully get into contact with another person aside from himself, even the mere idea gets his blood boiling, something hot and heavy and ugly forming in his gut.

He doesn’t like the idea that you want to speak with others – particularly if they’re male, even if they’re related to you. He should be enough for you; he provides for you and gives you affection and love, even if you aren’t willing to ask for it.

He gives you enough pleasure to leave your head spinning every night, dedicated and committed to making you come at least twice before he bothers with his own pleasure.

He even goes so far as to spoil you by stealing every little thing he knows you want, just to see you smile and hear your pretty voice telling him thank you Uvo, I love it!

(He’ll even steal things he thinks you’d like – he’s almost always on the money, and you’ll be surprised at how quickly and accurately he narrows down your likes and dislikes. Though, with the amount of time he’s spent stalking you, stealing your personal items, and getting your family members to talk about you - normally with his fist acting as incentive to spill your information - it’s no surprise.)

But so really, outside of trying to speak to other people past the threshold of the house he keeps you locked in and harming yourself, Uvogin probably won’t hurt you – not on purpose, at least.

(He’s so strong and massive that sometimes it just happens, even when he’s not even remotely mad. He’ll hug you too hard and leave a nasty bruise on your ribcage, or slap your ass and leave you too sore to sit down for a few hours. He’ll always feel a bit guilty, but also a bit proud – because now you’ll be thinking of him, and isn’t that just wonderful?)

And even if he does get angry, punishing you with physical violence is never an answer – it would be too easy to kill you, and he doesn’t want that. Not at all – actually, the thought of you dying (particularly by his own hand) is a fate worse than dying himself, and if it were to happen, Uvogin would become a shell of a man, living to kill others to an even more extreme degree than he does currently.

But when he does have to punish you, he relies more on mental games. He may be strong but he’s not stupid, and so while he doesn’t have the vast knowledge or flair for manipulation that someone like Chrollo or Shalnark might have, he’s still able to get his point across.

And so, Uvogin decides that the most surefire, successful way to get you to stop doing something bad is to simply ignore you.

Frankly, it hurts him almost as much as it hurts you – you’re so precious to him, something he always, always wants to touch and talk to and watch like a hawk, but he’s able to steel himself and hold out until he’s sure you’ve learned your lesson.

Uvogin’s jaw clenches as he takes in the scene before him; he’d just returned home from the grocery store, getting (stealing) your favorite snacks – along with some beef jerky for himself and some meat that looked particularly appetizing.

He’d been doing something nice – going all the way into town, risking getting seen or recognized, even going through the effort of choosing what he knows you like – all because you’d been looking a bit sad this morning, and you’d been out of bed much earlier than normal.

He was worried, if he was being honest, because you hadn’t returned his good-morning hug like normal, and you hadn’t laughed at one of his terrible, horrible puns, and you hadn’t even yelped when he’d picked you up by the ass, making your legs wrap around his waist.

It was concerning, and he’d hoped that maybe getting you your favorite foods would brighten your mood. He’d been hoping to have a nice night in with you tonight, comprised of a new action flick he’d been wanting to see (Phinks promised it was absolutely dismal, and Uvogin always enjoyed mocking the poorly done fight scenes in cinema), some good take-out, and, of course, ending the evening with you perched on his lap, bouncing up and down and moaning his name.

It was a good plan, but this was not part of it.

The grocery bags fall from his slackened grip, hitting the floor with a dull thud as he continues to stare. Whatever he’d been expecting when he walked through the door, it surely wasn’t you with the small bit of sandpaper he keeps in a kitchen drawer in hand.

The sandpaper was used for sharpening knives, something he very firmly kept out of your reach – they were in the highest cabinet with a padlock on them, just so that you wouldn’t get any funny ideas.

But it seems he didn’t plan quite well enough – because here you are, the sandpaper inches from your forearm, the skin rubbed raw and blood dripping down the skin. You’re staring at him, equally frozen, and there’s a certain amount of fear in your eyes that makes Uvogin’s rage only worsen.

You know this is bad, you look like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

Things are still for a moment, but then Uvogin’s rushing forward, grabbing you by the waist and lugging you over to the sink, not saying a word as he forces your arm under the stream of much too hot water he’d turned on, making sure to clean the wound. It stings and you hiss, nails digging into the skin of his shoulder, but even when you try to kick him and get out of his grasp, he doesn’t budge at all.

He holds your arm under until all the blood is gone, and then he’s setting you back on the ground, his expression blank. Somehow, that scares you more than his yelling and anger does – because this is something new, something you aren’t quite sure how to navigate. Uvogin fixes you with a harsh, cold glare, and for a moment you think he’ll start laying into you about how careless you were, about how you were purposefully hurting yourself, and you prepare for the onslaught of accusations and belittlement.

But it doesn’t come – instead, he turns on his heel, picking up the groceries and returning to the kitchen without sparing you a glance. He still hasn’t said anything, and as he starts putting away the various items into the cupboard, he remains silent.

Eventually, he reaches the portion of the groceries dedicated to you, and he hesitates for just a moment before throwing it all in the trash, still not bothering to look at you. You can see the brand names and packages of your favorite snacks, and for a moment you almost, almost feel guilty.

You’d been breaking one of his rules, just trying to feel something to combat the numbness that being his captive left to you with, all the while he was out buying you surprise snacks, all for some unknown reason.

Your arm was stinging still, and soon your eyes were too. Once he finishes up, he walks out of the kitchen, stomping down to his bedroom and slamming the door closed. You’re left to stand there, holding a paper towel over your wound that was slowly starting to bleed again, utterly confused at his strange behavior.

Never, in all your time with him, had you ever been ignored like this – he was overwhelming, sure, suffocating, even, but this? The day will pass slowly as you sit down on the couch and stare at the ground, confusion eating at you as you try to make sense of what just happened. The apartment is uncharacteristically quiet, and by the time two hours have rolled around, your arm has stopped hurting and your knee is bouncing, unease making you on edge.

Uvogin’s silent – there’s no sound coming from his room, and for a moment you wonder if he’s fallen asleep, something unusual for him. (He’s never let you nap mid-day, always claiming you’re wasting the time by sleeping it away.) Finally, after much internal debate, you gently stand up and shuffle down the hallway to his heavy wooden door, tentatively knocking. Uvogin?

Your voice is small, scared, hesitant, and there’s no response from inside. Your brows furrow but you swallow, loneliness creeping up your spine because as fucked up as it sounds, you miss him.

You miss his booming voice, warm touch, cheeky compliments, even his dark eyes fixed on you. It’s lonely without him, and although you’re beyond embarrassed and disdainful of how you’d only been left alone for two hours and you’re already feeling this desperate, you push open the door anyways.

Uvogin’s sitting on his bed, his white tank top stripped off and just a pair of boxers sitting low on his hips, and even as the door creaks open and you peak inside, he makes no move. He’s staring down at his phone – it looks comically small in his giant hands, and you bite your lip. Calling out his name again, you slowly creep closer and closer, your steps shuffled and small and quiet, but he doesn’t respond to you in any way.

It’s only once you’re within touching distance that you try a different angle – you’re playing with your fingers as you tell him that you’re sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. He still doesn’t move, and a new, odd sense of panic settles into your gut.

You apologized, what more does he want? You can’t stand being ignored like this – not even the slightest acknowledgement of your presence, after months of being the apple of his eye. With a newfound urgency, you carefully climb onto the bed, wrapping your arms as far around his chest as you can, burying your face against his arm as you shoulders start slightly shaking, tears welling up in your eyes.

You’re pathetic like this, and you know it – crying because your captor won’t pay attention to you? Any sense of self-respect you’d managed to cling onto dissipates, and soon you’re speaking again, little hiccups interrupting your words.

‘M sorry Uvo, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, please help me. I don’t know why I hurt myself, and I don’t know why this is hurting me even more than that stupid sandpaper – why does it make me feel so sad when you don’t look at me? What’s wrong with me? There’s something seriously fucked up with me, why do I miss you?

It becomes a stream of consciousness, more than anything, your voice progressively getting louder and louder until you’re actually crying – big, wet tears and snot dripping from your nose, your grip on Uvogin never loosening.

He’s looking at you now, peeking at you from the corner of his eye and watching you bare your heart to him, and although it shouldn’t feel this good, he can’t help but crack a smile.

You’re just too damn cute – he’d been livid when he found you in the kitchen, but now you seem more like a scared little kitten, all tiny and weak and malleable, and what you’re admitting right now sends shivers down his spine.

You miss him.

You want him.

It makes him chuckle a bit, and immediately you’re freezing up, staring up at him with your eyes all red and your cheeks wet. He smirks down at you, and before you know it he’s wrapping his arms around your waist and manhandling you on top of him while he lays down, pressing you against his chest and peppering kisses against the crown of your head.

So it hurts to not be around me? Damn babe, almost sounds like you’re in love with me. Isn’t that something?

He laughs, and you only clutch him tighter, embarrassment eating you alive, but the feeling of his hands on you and his voice crooning your name makes you not care.

All that matters is that he’s paying attention to you, seeing you, and as his hands move down to cup your ass and his voice gets more gruff and low, you’ll eagerly let him strip off your flimsy tee shirt and panties.

Anything he wants, as long as he keeps you from feeling that horrible, horrible loneliness.

OVERALL DANGER:

7/10

Uvogin is less dangerous and more overwhelming.

He’d never physically hurt you – at least, not on purpose. He’s painfully aware of how much bigger he is than you, of how much stronger and more adept at fighting and chasing, and the concept of even leaving a scratch on your pretty skin doesn’t sit right with him.

He’s wildly protective over the few people he loves, and you sit at the very top of that list – in many ways, he’s like your own personal guard dog, just much bigger and needier and touchier.

He wants you to love him back, to return the depths of his passionate, unhinged devotion to you, and he’s willing to do pretty much anything he needs in order to achieve this – he’s spoiling you with all kinds of jewels and snacks and flowers and clothing, grinning when he sees the way you get all embarrassed and flustered when he tells you just how much that diamond he snagged for you would go for on the market.

He’s handsy, always initiating affection with you, and not a moment goes by where he isn’t touching you – he’s grasping your hand in his when you’re showering together, the other hand helping lather your body up in the soap (and wandering, too, groping, squeezing, kneading, feeling).

 He’s wrapping you up in his arms, perching you on his lap while you watch a movie together, drowning in a pile of blankets while he hums in your ear and makes fun of the movie, his laughter low and his grip tightening on you when the main character and the love interest finally kiss, his voice purring into your ear that you’re much prettier than her, princess, love this smile and this fucking body.

He’s always smacking your ass or telling you horrible, dirty pick up lines, just because he wants to see you smile.

And even though you’ve been kidnapped, forced to live the rest of your life with a mass murderer, criminal, monster, Uvogin will treat you with more care, love and attention than other man ever has – he wants you, in this raw, pitiful way, and although he’s rough on the edges and scary, eventually he’ll win you over.

He’ll get you feeling fond for him, craving his touch, finding comfort in the way he wakes you up with a kiss in the morning and inhales against your neck, telling you to put on those panties you wore yesterday, baby, you know the ones, the mere command making you shiver in excitement because you know you’ll be having trouble walking tomorrow.

He’ll show up at your doorstep with splatters of blood on his white shirt and a crazed look in his eye as he kisses you, telling you that that man that used to catcall you on fifth street can sure run fast, but not fast enough, and you’ll find that you’re almost flattered that he’d gone and killed the man who’d made you so uncomfortable all those times.

He’s just oddly charming, and you may hate yourself for it, but eventually you will consider yourself his – and you’ll even be happy about it.