#satin is like.....why is this guy here all the time but he never buys anything hes clearly just cheap | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tchallasbabymama · 3 years

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Don't Forget About Us

Hello, my lovelies. Here’s my contribution to @nahimjustfeelingit-writes smut challenge (the prompt is in bold!) Let’s see what Erik’s up to now, shall we?

Don’t forget to check out my masterlist to read my other stories and oneshots. Your comments and reblogs mean the world to me, so make sure to let me know what you think! And let me know if you want to be tagged in any of my writing. Enjoy😘

Word count: 5,595

CW: smut...duh.

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“So, what do you do for a living?”

Kayla sighed internally at the question and took a sip of her Pinot Grigio. She hated first dates with a burning passion, but unfortunately, that was the only way to find a man around here. She went through the motions of politely answering his questions, barely asking any of her own. She didn’t care. Even just fifteen minutes in, Kayla could tell he didn’t excite her, and she lamented the waste of a good outfit as she listened to him drone on about his life. Every now and then, he’d stop and ask a question about her, but she could tell he was only asking so he could talk more about himself.

How many siblings do you have?

What’s your sign?

Why did your last relationship end?

Her mind traveled to her ex-boyfriend, Erik Stevens. They had spent six blissful years together, and Kayla thought he was the one. She wanted them to get married and start a family, and she thought he did, too, but every time she brought it up, he’d find some excuse to change the subject. At thirty years old, Kayla wasn’t getting any younger, so she grew tired of his avoidance and eventually cut him loose. She needed more out of life, but the guy currently sitting across from her certainly wasn’t it.

“We wanted different things,” she answered vaguely and took another sip. It would be a long night with what’s-his-name. David? Devon? Whatever. At least he had money and took her to a nice restaurant.

Darryl took the opportunity to bore her with the details of his job, which Kayla already knew. He was a colleague of her best friend, Carina’s husband. They worked at the same law firm, and Carina decided to hook them up after tiring of hearing Kayla complain about dating apps. As much as Kayla hated Tinder, she would’ve much rather been at home on her couch swiping left on the cesspool of single men Oakland had to offer. Every few dozen swipes or so, she’d find a cutie, but his bio would be abysmal, or his conversation skills would fall flat.

Despite the fact that their relationship just couldn’t make it, Kayla still thought of Erik as the gold standard. Just thinking about his dimples and his struggle beard made her smile dreamily. His big, strong arms would wrap around her and hold her tight at night, and she’d trace her fingers over the intentionally placed keloid scars that held his darkest secrets. She missed retwisting his locs and the way he always smelled like sandalwood and warm vanilla. Kayla didn’t want to admit it, but she still loved him. No man could compare to her Erik.

“Hello? Kayla?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry. Can you repeat that last part?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. What’s got you so distracted, babygirl?”

Kayla fought the bile rising in her throat. She wasn’t his babygirl. It didn’t even sound right coming from his mouth. Maybe it was the thinness of his lips. They weren’t “white man” thin, but they couldn’t hold a candle to the juicy pussy pleasers she had grown accustomed to.

“Nothing, just thought I saw somebody I know. You were saying?”

“Just that you look beautiful tonight,” Damon attempted to flirt with her.

Kayla wanted to roll her eyes but thanked him instead and smiled politely again. Of course she looked beautiful; she had pulled out all the stops for what she had hoped would be a good night out. Kayla had squeezed her thickness into a lavender satin dress. The way the dress’s skirt cinched on the side kept it snug around her plush waist, but the high slit that traveled up her thigh was the main attraction. The strappy silver heels on her feet showed off her matching pedicure that contrasted beautifully with her glistening brown skin, and her makeup was flawless. Her outerwear for the night, a cropped fur jacket that had found its way to the coat check when they arrived, was the icing on the cake. Her outfit deserved the appreciation, just not from Deshawn.

The waiter saved her from having to focus on her date when she brought out the food they had ordered. Since Kayla knew Derek had money, she had ordered the whole lobster, and she fought her mouth from drooling too much as the waiter set it down in front of her. It laid on a bed of forbidden rice, and the side of roasted brussels sprouts and cremini mushrooms looked heavenly. The ramekin of drawn butter off to the side tempted her as it sat next to the minuscule seafood fork. She may not enjoy her company for the evening, but Kayla damn sure was going to enjoy her meal.

“Looks good,” Dominic called from the other side of the table, breaking Kayla from her trance as he cut into his wagyu beef.

“Sure does.” Kayla wasted no time before digging into her meal. Not only was it the perfect excuse to avoid conversation, but it was perfect, period.

A slight chill permeated the air as the door swung open and the crisp January air entered the small restaurant. Kayla shivered as she complained internally about being forced to sit near the door, but that shiver intensified as she heard a voice. His voice.

“Reservation for Stevens, please.”

Kayla stilled.

“Of course. Right this way, sir,” the maitre d’ responded, and Kayla heard three sets of footsteps coming her way.

--------

“Babe, let’s go!”

“Yell at me one more time, woman,” Erik warned as he came around the corner into the living room, fastening his watch.

“I swear, you take more time getting ready than I do.”

“Whatever, Mo. You ready?”

“Nigga, I been ready!”

Erik rolled his eyes and grabbed his keys. It would be a rough night, and things were already starting off on a bad foot. He and Monique had been seeing each other for the better part of a year, and he’d finally reached his limit. She was overbearing, rude, and just after him for his money, but he hated being alone, so he put up with her bullshit. His cousin, T’Challa, had tried to hook him up with a few ladies back in Wakanda when he went to visit after his breakup, but nothing stuck. Almost immediately after coming back to the states, Erik met Monique at a charity event for the Outreach Center. She had the singing voice of an angel and had been booked as the entertainment for the evening. Erik was drawn to her like a sailor to a siren, and she immediately sank her teeth into him. Past her vocal talents, Monique wasn’t really anything special. Her personality left a lot to be desired, she wasn’t the sharpest crayon in the box, and she just wasn’t her.

The moment Kayla ended their relationship a year ago, Erik’s whole world shattered. He had lived a life full of pain and loss, but Kayla had been his lifeline. She pulled him out of the dark and made him revel in the sunshine. Hell, she was the sunshine, but now he had settled for a UV lamp at best. Kayla had wanted a life that Erik was too scared to give her, but that fear became his downfall. He still missed her most nights. He was lonely, and Monique was there to keep him company, but that wasn’t enough for him anymore. Erik craved a connection that Monique just couldn’t provide. So he decided he had to break it off and figured that doing so in a public place would probably be best. She had a tendency to throw things when she got angry.

The car ride to Chez Martine was tense. Monique had been angry all day because Erik had taken back his credit card even though she wanted to buy a new dress for their date. Her lousy mood almost made him dump her back at his condo, but Erik kept a cool head and stayed focused on the plan. He ignored the way Monique complained the entire time she got ready, reluctantly putting on a dress he had seen her wear before. It didn’t matter to him; he knew what the night held.

When they walked into the restaurant, Erik’s heart dropped into his stomach. He’d recognize that shoulder blade tattoo anywhere. She had cut off all her hair and lost a few pounds, but he knew for sure that he was looking at Kayla. His Kayla. He forced himself to look straight ahead as they passed her table and prayed that the maitre d’ didn’t sit them where she could see him. Unfortunately, he had no such luck because the only open table for two was directly within her line of sight. He prayed again that Monique would sit on the far side of the table, but Bast ignored his pleas once more. He had to sit facing her, and as soon as he got comfortable in his chair, her gaze slyly trailed over to him. They locked eyes across the room, and Erik’s heart stopped. She was just as beautiful as the last time he saw her all those months ago, but who the fuck was that sitting across from her?

“What are you looking at?” Monique’s abrasive voice cut through his eardrums.

“Nothing. Just thought I saw someone I know, that’s all.”

She cut her eyes at him and turned around to look as he buried his face in the menu.

“Quit being nosy,” he complained.

“I just wanna see who’s got your attention, that’s all.” Monique turned back around with a sour look on her face. “It’s probably that fat girl with her cleavage all out.”

“Mo, just look at the fucking menu and act like you got some sense.”

“Fine.”

Monique pouted until the waiter showed up, but she plastered a fake smile on her face as he took their order. As usual, she ordered the most expensive thing on the menu, and it bothered him to no end that she was hellbent on spending all of his money. Of course, he had plenty, but she felt entitled to it. Kayla never cared about him being rich. Hell, when they got together, she didn’t even know he was a prince, but he loved to spoil her nonetheless. He loved the look on her face when he’d buy her things or take her on the expensive trips that she more than deserved. Kayla appreciated everything he did for her with all her heart, but she’d say the same thing every time.

“Thank you, baby, but you’re all I need.”

Erik smiled fondly at the memory of when he bought her a diamond tennis bracelet from Wakanda for their second anniversary. She was so excited to have diamonds that weren’t marred by exploited labor that she damn near dropped the box when she saw what was inside. It had been a rough year for them, what with him disappearing for a couple of months to seize the Wakandan throne and all. She certainly had plenty of colorful words for him when he came back. He’ll never forget the look on her face when he showed up at her door. He had brought T’Challa for backup just in case, but she looked right past the king as tears welled up in her eyes at seeing her Erik, alive and well.

Erik’s eyes started to get misty as he thought about the way she kissed him with so much emotion...then slapped him across the face for leaving. His gaze wandered back over to Kayla and he noticed the light bounce off of something on her arm. She was wearing the bracelet.

As if she felt his glare, Kayla shifted uncomfortably in her seat, so he averted his eyes back to Monique, who had caught him staring again.

“Why don’t you go say hi?” she asked sarcastically, making him roll his eyes so hard they almost got stuck.

--------

Erik Stevens. Here, of all places. He just had to be here.

Kayla noticed that he didn’t seem to be enjoying his modelesque date’s company any more than she was enjoying Darwin’s, and the pang of jealousy she felt at seeing him with another woman went away. She knew she had no right to feel any kind of way about it, especially since she was the one that broke things off. That didn’t make it any easier, though.

Dylan was too wrapped up in his steak to notice her wandering eye, but it seemed that Erik’s food was as uninteresting as the woman across from him. Kayla watched as he half-heartedly pushed it around his plate, but he certainly kept his favorite whiskey coming. She wanted to chuckle but didn’t want Daniel to think he had anything to do with her levity. They were both drowning their dissatisfactions in their alcohols of choice, and Kayla got a phantom taste of Uncle Nearest 1856 on her lips as she watched him take a sip. When he set the glass down and licked his lips, Kayla felt flush. She missed those lips…

“So, how about dessert?” Damien asked as he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stomach. “I hear their creme brulee is amazing.”

“Uh, sure, why not?”

“You know,” he began as he leaned in and reached for her hands. She allowed him to take them, but the softness of his hands disgusted her. No callouses, no roughness, not even a firm grip. “I’ve had a great night. I’d love to see you again.”

Kayla chuckled nervously, unsure of how to proceed.

“What are you doing next-”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

A shrill voice pierced the air as Erik’s date bolted up from her seat. Desmond, and the whole restaurant, turned around to see what was going on, and Kayla took the opportunity to remove her hands from his.

“Keep your voice down,” Erik sneered through his teeth. “We’re in public.”

“So?! You bring me out here just to dump me? To dump this?!” she gestured at her slim figure, and he rolled his eyes.

“You ain’t even all that,” he waved her off. He was tired of playing nice, and Kayla could see the exasperation written all over his face.

“Excuse me, miss-” the waiter attempted to calm her down, but the crazed woman cut him off.

“Stay out of this!”

“I’m so sorry,” Erik mouthed to the poor man who would absolutely be getting a monstrous tip later.

“Oh, you’re sorry for him, but not for me?”

“Mo, just sit down. We can finish our meal like adults-”

“Fuck you, Erik.” She threw her dirty martini at him, soaking the front of his all-black ensemble.

Kayla could damn near see the steam coming out of his ears as his apparent ex stormed out of the restaurant. Erik locked eyes with her across the room, and when he saw the concern written all over her face, his softened.

“Whew, poor fella,” Dexter commented as he turned back around. “Where was I? Oh-”

“Excuse me, where’s your restroom?” Kayla interrupted him as their waiter walked by.

“Right down there.” She pointed at a set of stairs off to the side, and Kayla thanked her as she slid out of her seat.

“I’ll be back, Darius.”

“It’s Denzel.” He deflated.

“Fuck,” she froze. She had been sure it was Darius. “Still, I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be here,” he responded, obviously upset by her slip-up.

Kayla hurried off down the stairs and leaned against the wall as she waited for either of the single-use restrooms to open up. She took a deep breath and opened her clutch, reaching in to pull out her phone with a shaky hand and typing in his number. It was one of the few she had memorized, just in case.

“You ok?”

Her thumb hovered over the send button, but she couldn’t press it. Her heart nearly thumped out of her chest at the thought of starting a conversation with him, but something within her said that she should. It would be weird not to say anything after all that, right?

“Hey-”

“Shit!” Kayla dropped her phone when his silky baritone graced her ears.

“My fault, ma.” Erik leaned over and picked the phone off the floor, checking it for cracks. He saw she had typed a message out to him and smirked before handing it back to her.

“T-thanks.”

“No problem. And, yeah, I’m ok.”

“Huh?”

Erik pointed at her phone screen.

“Oh! Right. Um, well, that’s good to hear.” Kayla attempted to push her hair behind her ear out of habit, forgetting she had just cut it all off a week ago.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You ok? You don’t seem to into ole dude out there.”

Kayla sighed and rolled her eyes, “Oh, him.”

“Damn, it’s like that?” Erik laughed, and she slapped his arm. That slight contact was enough to spark a flame in them both, and Erik’s face turned serious. “For real, though, not going well?”

“Better than you, it seems,” she quipped as she eyed his wet shirt. That was a bad idea because his first three buttons were undone, and she caught a peek of the raised scars that she missed so much. And that broad chest, and the chain with his father’s ring that he always wore. He’d let her wear it from time to time, and she always felt like it was such an honor. He trusted her enough to let her wear it. He loved her enough to-

Kayla pried her eyes away and made yet another mistake: she looked up at him. Those eyes still looked like sweet, sweet molasses, and even though his locs were braided back, she could tell he was letting them grow out. She momentarily wondered who was retwisting them nowadays, but her train of thought was cut short by the scent of sandalwood and vanilla. Kayla’s mind went blank as she inhaled slowly.

“Heh, yeah. That was...that was pretty embarrassing. Not even gonna lie.” Erik looked away shyly, unable to hold her gaze.

“I guess you’ll need to find a new date spot, huh?”

“Nah, I think I’m good on dating for a while.”

“Same,” Kayla sighed. “Dating sucks.”

“Yeah…”

One of the bathroom doors unlocked, and a middle-aged white man stepped out and passed them on the way up the stairs.

“Well, I should-”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Kayla walked towards the bathroom, but before she could reach the door, she felt a light tug on her wrist. His touch still gave her goosebumps, and he noticed her raised skin as she turned to face him.

“I just, uh...it was nice seeing you, Kay-kay.” Erik smiled at her, and she nearly melted. She missed when he called her that, too. “You look good.”

“Thanks, E.” She smiled back. “So do you.”

He let her go, and Kayla disappeared into the bathroom. When she closed the door behind her, she took a deep breath to center herself. After all these months, Erik still took her breath away. He clouded her senses and scrambled her mind. Even as she took care of business, her brain replayed their short interaction on a loop.

Kayla locked eyes with her reflection as she dried her hands. How could she go back up there to- what’s his name? Oh, yeah, Da- Denzel. That’s it, Denzel. How could she go back up there to his mediocre company when the man she still loved had made her feel so alive with just one touch. That was the magic of Erik, his magnetism. When they were together, she couldn’t help but be drawn to him, even when she wanted to slap him across his beautiful face. Those were some of the best times, though. If she was angry at him, he knew exactly what to do to calm her down. To put her in her place. To remind her-

Kayla’s daydreaming was cut short by a knock at the door.

“Occupied!”

It came again.

“I’ll be out in a minute!”

She reached for another paper towel to dab off the sweat that had started to pool on her skin at the thought of Erik’s dominance when the door opened.

“What the f- Erik?!”

He pushed inside the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

“You need to start locking doors, Kay.”

“I- what do you want?”

“I want to talk to you,” he spoke as he moved closer to her.

“Here?!”

“Yeah, here,” he chuckled.

Kayla rolled her eyes and tried to push past him.

“Now is not the time or place-”

“When is?” he blocked her exit, and she crossed her arms in defeat, looking up at him through her lashes as she leaned against the sink. “Look, I just need to say something real quick.”

“Fine,” Kayla sighed and gestured for him to continue. She knew there was no use fighting him. She wasn’t leaving that bathroom until he was good and ready.

“Kay,” his voice softened, and she looked away only to have her face pulled back in his direction. “Kay-kay, look at me.”

She made the mistake of doing just that, getting lost in his eyes again.

“I miss you,” Erik murmured.

“Erik-”

“Look, I know, ok? I know. And I’m sorry, Kay. I really am- no, look at me. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you...but I miss you, girl.”

Kayla’s eyes welled up with tears that she tried her hardest to blink away, but one had the nerve to fall. Erik wiped it away, and the next one, and the next one. A sob wracked Kayla’s body, and he wrapped his arms around her body.

“Don’t cry, babygirl. I know you worked hard on your makeup.”

Kayla laughed through her tears, but the emotions washed back over her, and she buried her face into his chest. It was already soaked with gin, so what harm would a few tears do?

He held her and rocked her softly from side to side as she cried, and after a couple of minutes, she found the will to look up at him again. His cheeks were wet, so she reached up and swiped her thumbs over them as she held his face in her small hands. He nuzzled into them and kissed her wrists.

“I miss you, too, E,” she croaked.

“I know, babygirl.”

He leaned in to kiss her forehead, and she closed her eyes as his soft lips caressed her skin. They stayed intertwined for who knows how long until Erik felt Kayla begin to pull back. He looked down at her, and the two of them locked eyes. Before they knew it, their lips had met in the middle in a passionate embrace. They got lost in each other for a moment until common sense returned to Kayla, and she pushed him off.

“We can’t-”

“Why not?”

“Because…”

“Because what, Kay?” Erik’s voice rumbled as he closed what little gap was between their bodies. He left soft kisses on her temples before working down to her cheeks, then her jawline, and eventually the column of her neck. She let out a soft whimper when his teeth grazed the crook of her neck but pushed him back again before he could continue any further.

“Erik, I...I still love you, and-”

He attacked her lips with his, hands feverishly gripping her waist as he pushed her further into the sink. She had nowhere to go, and she was ok with that.

“I...love you...too...babygirl,” he whispered between kisses.

Kayla’s mind went blank as he lifted her up on the counter and pressed himself between her legs. She could feel him, all of him, and damn did she miss that monster between his legs.

“Erik,” she moaned as he nipped at her earlobe. He still knew how to play her body like a violin.

“Mmm, say it again.”

“Erik!” she squeaked as she felt his strong hands grip her thighs.

“Just like that,” he groaned, and she flooded her already wet panties.

“Baby-”

He connected his forehead to hers and stared deep into her eyes. “You miss me?”

“Mhm,” Kayla nodded with her lip between her teeth.

“I miss you, too, baby. I think about you all the time. Every day,” he pecked her lips, “every night. I miss everything about you, Kay-kay. Your off-key singing, your horrible cooking-”

“Shut up,” Kayla giggled as his hands traveled up her dress.

“Your body…fuck I miss this body. I miss how you smell, how you taste...how that tight little pussy feels wrapped around my dick.”

Kayla widened her legs for him as his fingers found their way to the seat of her panties, stroking up and down her slit. Erik kissed his way back down her face and over to her ear, his warm breath sending chills down her spine.

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself? Because I do. You’re all I see when I stroke my dick...wishing it was your hand...your lips...this fucking pussy.”

Erik pushed her panties to the side, and his nimble fingers circled her clit. Kayla let out a small moan that was music to his ears, making fingers move faster and her breath grow shallower with each rotation.

“Answer me.”

“Mhm.”

“Come on, babygirl, you can do better than that. You think about me when you play in your pussy? This pussy right here?” he asked as he slapped her vulva, her wetness sticking to his hand.

“Y-yes, baby-”

“Uh-uh, you know who I am. Say it,” Erik commanded as he snuck three fingers inside her wetness, making her moan loudly in his ear. “Shhh, you gotta be quiet, babygirl. You don’t want people out there knowing how much of a slut you are, right?”

Kayla shook her head no.

“That’s what I thought. Now, I asked you a question, Kayla,” he reminded her. His gruff voice made her weak, and the fingers that were steadily speeding up inside her certainly didn’t help. “Answer me. Who am I, babygirl?”

Kayla tried to hold out as much as she could. She didn’t want to say it, too proud to give in, but the way he was currently stretching out her pussy and curling his fingers inside her made her cling to his shoulders. The bastard knew what he was doing, and she didn’t want to let him win. But then, he played dirty and bit down on her neck. She cried out, and when he pulled back to look at her, the ferocity in his eyes drove her up the wall.

“I said, who the fuck am I, Kayla?” Erik growled. His hand sped up, making her weak with every thrust. She couldn’t hold it anymore and came undone around him, her mouth betraying her as his name fell from her lips.

“Daddy!” she gasped as her pussy spasmed, and he chuckled darkly.

“Damn right I am,” he kissed her lips, “now gimme that pussy. Daddy missed his pussy.”

Kayla heard a rip and felt the cool air between her legs as he tore through her panties to get to her treasure trove. She reached down between them and grabbed his clothed erection in her hand, making him groan as he bit down on his luscious bottom lip. She undid his belt buckle and slowly unzipped his pants before reaching in and pulling out his throbbing dick.

The longing in her eyes told him everything he needed to know, so he pushed her legs back and tapped his head on her clit.

“You want daddy’s dick in you?”

“Mhm,” she whimpered.

“Good.”

He pushed in and groaned at the feeling of her pussy walls gripping him as he sheathed himself inside her.

“Fuck, you feel like home.”

Kayla moaned into his neck in response and wound her hips against him, meeting him thrust for thrust as he stroked into her slow and deep. She couldn’t form words. He felt so damn good inside her that Kayla’s brain had short-circuited. Erik’s dick hit spots that she could never find herself no matter how hard she tried. Even in her dreams, he drove her body wild. She had spent the last year trying to find somebody, anybody who could make her feel that way, but nobody could compare to Erik Stevens.

Erik and Kayla panted heavily into each others’ mouths as he made love to her body, and as soon as Kayla started to tense up, his thrusts grew harder.

“I-I-”

“I know, babygirl. Daddy feels it,” he groaned as he nipped at her bottom lip. “Cum on my dick like a good girl.”

His words sent Kayla into overdrive, and her body shook as she spilled over him. Her spasming walls hugged him tight, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, begging him with her eyes.

“You feel amazing,” she moaned.

“Mhm. I know them other niggas wasn’t hitting it like this. I just know it. Look at you, cumming all over daddy’s dick. Look at it!” He grabbed her chin and made her look down at her throbbing pussy as his dick slid in and out of her.

“We look so good, daddy!”

Erik slammed into her, and she bit into his shoulder to keep from screaming. He gave her his all over and over, rocking the countertop in the process.

“We’ll look even better if you let me cum in this pussy. Mix my cum with yours-”

“Yes!”

“Yes?” He chuckled. “You want it that bad, huh? Nasty ass, in here getting fucked while that bum ass nigga’s waiting for you upstairs.”

“Mmm, I want it.”

“Want what, babygirl?” Erik teased as he brought his thumb to her clit, strumming it slowly as he thrust into her.

“You. I want you to cum deep in me.”

“Shit,” Erik groaned. “You want it deep in there?”

“Mhm. Put it where it belongs, daddy.” Kayla licked up the side of his neck, making his knees buckle. “Cum in your pussy.”

Erik lost all sense of control and pounded into her tight pussy, somehow getting even deeper in preparation for his release. Kayla held on tight as she felt him begin to spasm inside her, and she released around him again as his deep moans tickled her ear. Erik thrust extra deep and held his dick in place as he emptied his balls into her warmth, whimpering lightly as she rubbed his back to soothe him and bring him back down.

“I missed you, babygirl.”

“I missed you, too, daddy.”

They stayed like that, wrapped up in each other until their breathing slowed. Erik was the first to move, slowly pulling himself out of Kayla as she whined at the loss of contact. He kissed all over her face before planting a slow, sweet kiss on her lips.

“I can’t let you go again, Kay-kay,” his voice cracked as tears threatened to fall from his eyes again.

Kayla pulled him back in and kissed him so deeply that she nearly lost herself in him again, but he pulled away and looked her in her eyes.

“I’m serious, girl. I’ll do anything. I’ll marry you, give you as many big-headed babies as you want. Just, please, Kay-” she cut him off with another kiss to shut him up.

“We should go back to my place and talk,” she whispered, and Erik’s face lit up. Something about the way she said it, the way she kissed him, the way her body still responded to his...it gave him hope. Kayla smiled at him and pecked his lips once more before hopping off of the sink. He had to catch her because her legs were wobbly, and she stumbled a little in her heels.

“You aight?” he laughed.

“No, nigga,” she slapped his chest, and the two of them got caught in a laughing fit. They had really just fucked in the bathroom at Chez Martine. Kayla was on cloud nine until a thought occurred to her, and her face fell flat. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Erik’s face turned serious, and his eyes scanned over her body, looking for whatever the problem was.

Kayla started giggling again, and he looked confused.

“What is it?” he asked, barely able to keep a straight face. Her laugh was always so infectious…

“Demetrius.”

“Who?!”

“My date.”

“Girl, don’t worry about him. He probably thinks you dipped out anyway.”

Kayla shrugged and fixed her dress as Erik stuffed his shirt back in his pants. They checked their reflections in the mirror, and Kayla was pleasantly surprised that her makeup was still intact thanks to that setting spray she had splurged on the other day.

“Ready?” Erik asked as he admired her beauty. Kayla nodded, and he unlocked the door, opening it to find Duncan leaning against the wall with a sour look on his face. Kayla’s eyes blew wide as she tried to figure out what to say to her date for the evening.

“Heyyy, um…”

“Denzel,” he seethed.

“Yeah, sorry. So, um, we’re-”

“Sorry, bruh,” Erik clapped him on the shoulder, “but we heading out. Bathroom’s all yours, though.”

Erik pulled Kayla along, and she sent Deion an apologetic glance before following Erik up the stairs. It seemed the whole restaurant knew what had occurred, but neither one of them cared. They were just happy to be around each other again. It had been entirely too long.

Taglist: @ladymac82, @kitesatforestp, @harleycativy, @raysunshine78, @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @motheroffae, @love-mesome-me,@toni9, @bribrisback, @impremenior, @blacklytical, @uzumaki-rebellion, @honeyandpeaches, @cecereads209, @wakandama2,

#smutchallenge #cecewritessometimes #oneshot #erik killmonger x oc #black!oc #smut #Youtube

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miekasa · 3 years

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mie!! i’m so late to the party but i absolutely loved ‘NICE’, it made me feel so warm and fuzzy <33 it’s so unique to its own and the flow of it is beyond wonderful!

what is married life like for oc and eren in ‘NICE’? is it just like before/do you have any nice!husband!eren headcanons?

AHH I’m so happy you liked it and that you took the time to come and tell me!! Married life for them... doesn’t really differ from what their lives looked like before actually hehe. They were basically married without knowing it 🙄🙄 idiots to lovers or something like that; but here are a few head canons of the months immediately following NICE!

You officially got married in Paris on the fourth, not too long after Carla’s wedding. You guys flew in some officials, checked through all the technicalities, and signed the papers right on top of the Eiffel Tower (access granted by the city of Paris upon request of one Carla Jaeger, of course).

Aside from having the most picturesque location in the world to sign your marriage certificate, there wasn’t anything lavish in celebration after that. Carla’s wedding was just three days earlier, after all, and was still the talk of the local press. You did have a small party with your friends (Jean, Armin, Mikasa, Marco, Erwin, Levi, Hange came from the Alps for Carla’s wedding) in your overly large hotel room. Just some music, room service, and lots and lots of champagne.

Eren extended your winter break vacation by two weeks for an impromptu honeymoon to the Bahamas before you went home. Let’s just say you did not leave the safe haven of your hotel room very often, except to dip into the ocean a few nights (benefits of a private beach).

After getting married, the rings swapped places; the band with diamonds previously on your pointer finger was put on a chain (a new one since Eren threw the other one on the ground 💀), and you now wear the engagement ring on your ring finger.

Eren doesn’t like it when you take off the ring (the ring being the engagement ring). The first time you were going into the water, you were going to put it on the chain for safekeeping, but he protested very strongly. He would rather it rest safely in your suitcase than go around your neck again.

Your wedding bands are actually very similar to the band you already have: gold and diamond encrusted. Eren’s, however, has an emerald in the center, like the two emeralds that serve as the pistils of the sunflowers in your engagement ring (for reference, that ring looks something like this, but with a gold band). The bands were the first thing Eren bought when you guys got home.

Your friends in Dubai (Ymir, Reiner, Annie, Connie, Sasha) had no idea that you and Eren got married over winter break. Safe to say they were all… very surprised to hear the news. Connie was a little bit bitter because he missed it, and wolf whistles every time he sees your ring (even though he’s seen it before because you wore it on the necklace every day).

You got married in January, but have an official wedding in the process of being planned sometime around late summer/early fall. Carla insisted that you guys have a wedding despite already being married, and Eren agreed whole heartedly. They are both very into planning it, and yes, Eren is somewhat of a bridezilla, and his mom is enabling him 100% please.

The night you signed the wedding papers, Carla lent you an off-white satin couture gown from one of her past collections. She is designing and making your official wedding dress by hand, with the help of Mikasa.

The two of them are also making Eren’s suit, and all the outfits for your wedding party. Carla will murder you if you even so much as hint at just buying other suits/dresses. This is her baby’s wedding, and she runs one of the most renowned fashion houses of the modern century; she’ll be damned if you guys wear something off the rack.

You considered a destination wedding, but settled on having it in New York. You haven’t decided a location yet, and it’s the one thing Eren isn’t actually picky about (because you know he’s gonna go ham on the decor no matter where it is bye).

Jean doesn’t know it yet, but he’s your maid of honor. Good luck and best of wishes to Eren picking between Mikasa and Armin for best man.

Even before confessing and getting married, Eren never slept much in his own bedroom. You both have California king sized beds in your rooms, and more often than not, Eren would sleep with you in your bed. You didn’t always cuddle, but he just liked to be there (for your presence, and because he was grossly in love bye)… you ended up cuddling a lot of the time tho.

He wants to renovate your apartment now that you both “officially” live in the same bedroom, even though it’s not necessary. He just likes renovating things.

You guys go to dinner every weekend, and sometimes you even go dancing. Eren still can’t dance and he doesn’t actually care to learn; it just reminds him of being in Nice with you.

He kisses your ring finger every morning waking up and every night before going to bed; sometimes he even does it subconsciously in his sleep.

He holds your hand way more often. Not just because you guys are together now, but because he likes seeing the ring where it’s meant to be. He also notices that it helps to curb your anxiety, which is a good bonus.

Eren wants kids, but he hasn’t really brought it up yet. He knows you both are fairly young, and that you’re still technically in school, but that’s not really a deterrent for him.

The only reason he’s waiting to say something is because you guys have a lot going on with wedding planning and settling in to “married life”—there’s a lot of tedious paperwork to be done and documents to update. He’ll bring it up next year when all that is settled.

On the subject of school, you are still attending university, but have been eligible for graduation for a year now. You had enough credits to graduate last (the year before NICE) December, but there were a few more classes you wanted to take out of interest that hadn’t been running in past years, so you stayed for all four years. Eren picks you up from your lectures.

Eren graduated in December before you guys went on vacation. By normal standards, that’s a semester early. However, he was supposed to be in this Honors Arts and Sciences program, that should have taken him another two semesters. He decided it wasn’t worth it, and dropped the honors part, and with that, had enough credits to graduate, so he did.

A college degree is really more of an accessory for him anyway, and school was never his thing. He’s decently smart, sure, but he never enjoyed school because of the emphasis on exams; he’s more of a creative person, a dreamer if you will. The only reason he even went to Columbia was because you decided to go there.

He and you both have enough money to live more than comfortably if neither of you decided to get a job after graduation… way more than enough/ But Eren isn’t doing nothing; he’s actually sorta been working his way into the world of professional interior design, and he really loves it. You’re proud of him, and more than anything, happy that he decided to go for something he loves.

Armin and Jean also graduated a semester early. Armin’s been living with Mikasa since Connie got his own place off-campus in January. Jean is a little upset blondie is living with his girlfriend before he is, but it’s whatever 🙄if it’s gonna be anyone, at least it’s Armin.

Carla mentioned that Eren got married sometime during a NYFW interview (along with talking about her own recent marriage), and since then you both have interviewed for two magazines, one of which featured pictures from your smaller party in Paris. You’ve gotten requests from Vanity Fair and Vogue about your bigger wedding later in the year, but you guys haven’t invited any media officials as of yet.

You and Eren attend the MET Gala almost every year. You don’t walk the red carpet and nobody is scrambling to take your pictures; but you have passes because of Carla. Also, you could just buy your way in if you wanted you (and your friends have in the past). This year, Eren had to pay two security officers $10k in bribes because you two snuck away to fuck in… a part of the museum not sectioned off for the event. Whoopsies.

Even before Eren got him arrested, going out to brunch was kind of your and Armin’s thing. Eren insists he should be invited now that he’s your husband. He is not. (His bitterness grows when he learns that Jean has secured himself an invite somehow).

Eren sold the car he got arrested for drag racing in. He never told you why—and as far as transportation goes, it wasn’t a big deal because you guys have other cars—but, to him, it was a kind of symbol. He thinks it’s dumb if he thinks too long about it, but he just didn’t wanna have that there are a reminder of how he’d hurt you and his mom.

Jean still drives you to your therapy appointments, but now Eren picks you up. Eren also goes to therapy himself, and has been before you guys got married; his therapist says he’s undoubtedly happier in recent sessions… like a weight’s been lifted off his shoulder.

As far as drugs go, there’s, of course, weed on a happy occasion, or at a party; but he hasn’t touched coke since that one time (which was also the first time he’d ever done it). That’s not even him being a changed man, he just didn’t like it—he only argued with you about it because he was being stubborn. He’s more of a drinker than anything, and absolutely loves to get you drunk on a special occasion, too; he always has. He thinks you look cute, and he likes taking care of you.

You have lived in that apartment with Eren for years before marrying him, yet he insisted you needed to christen the place like it was brand new… at this point, the only places you haven’t fucked in are the elevator itself, the foyer, the storage closet, and the pool. The latter only because it’s been too cold in NYC… trust and believe pool sex is coming lmfao.

Eren bought the apartment and renovated and designed it, but he never did like being in it all alone, and that’s been magnified since you got married. If he’s there by himself, he’s usually in the living area, napping on the daybed. He waits for your faithfully every day, and is hardly in the bedroom if you’re not.

Eren has not stopped introducing you as his wife since January. Even to people in passing like cashiers and bartenders, everyone in the whole damn city probably knows you guys got hitched.

#anonymous #oh i forgot how much i love this couple eren's so baby :((((( he loves her SO much its unberable #its A MIRACLE they didnt get together sooner #yes theyre only 21 in the fic but he was literally ready at 19 god i love him i love him i love himmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm #fic.ask #eren x reader

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nikethestatue · 3 years

Text

La Dolce Vita

Part II

On the Wings of Desire

Warnings: Language

(I had to split this chapter into two because it was getting too long. Hence, no sexy times, but angst galore) Comments and reblogs and likes are always appreciated! Let me know what you think.

Chapter One is here

Two Years Ago

Azriel

Azriel pulled up to the flower shop.

There was a surprise that he wanted to share with Elain, and like a young boy on his first date, he was both excited and nervous. But he hoped that she’d like it. Funny how he still got a little nervous with her, exuberant even.

It’s been three months since they’ve met and he loved every minute that they’d spent together. The nature of their relationship was a little undefined, but he didn’t care. So what if they weren’t ‘dating’? So there weren’t official dinners and outings, to show only the best part of each other to one another? They moved beyond that right away. They simply loved being together. It was inexplicable, how quickly it happened, how easy it was between the two of them, but Azriel could never get enough of Elain.

He came to her shop whenever he wanted, helped her out, hung out with her, and she went to the garage to meet him. If he was busy and couldn’t meet with her, she closed her shop for lunch, and brought him a sandwich, so they could eat together. He loved it, even if he actually had a restaurant and a bar on premises and she technically didn’t need to buy him food. But there was something special about her coming up the stairs to his office, dressed in one of her cute, flowery dresses and heels. Every time it was a different sandwich, a different drink and a different snack—sometimes a cookie, or good chocolate, or weird chips, or a full-on pastry with cream and ganache and whatnot. He developed a strange fascination with his lunch options, never knowing what it would be and eagerly anticipating it.

Sometimes, he took her on long rides—one of their favourite past times. If he knew that she was up to her eyeballs with orders, since this was summer and it seemed like everyone was getting married, he would bring her takeout to the shop, and they’d sit and arrange flowers until the wee hours. When things calmed down, and there was a quiet evening ahead, she usually invited him to come and eat at her place. They cooked together, drank wine, and then went for a walk.

They haven’t had a kiss yet.

Did it bother him? He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t dream of Elain all the time, of her supple, soft body, of how she’d look naked, of how she’d feel when he filled her, what sounds she’d make, what her face would look like when she climaxed around him? Was she a screamer? A beggar? Was she loud or quiet and shy?

She never spoke of her past boyfriends, so he had no idea of how many men she’s been with. Secretly, he hoped that it wasn’t too many. Maybe it was some male thing, but the idea of her with another man, the thought of someone else touching her, making her moan, making her love—it didn’t please him at all. He thought that he was more modern, more advanced in his thinking—and usually he was—but in this case, he was struggling with accepting Elain wrapped around some other male.

Surprisingly, even though it wasn’t even 6 pm yet, the flowers that usually spilled outside the shop were not gracing the pavement and the shop looked closed for the day. But Azriel went and knocked on the glass door anyway, seeing as there was some light coming from Elain’s office in the back. There was no response, but he knocked even harder, almost banging, until he heard Elain’s muffled voice yelling, “we are closed!”

“Laney, open up! It’s me!”

A few moments later, Elain appeared in the darkness and then the door opened.

And his jaw almost dropped.

She stood in front of him, wearing a slinky, satin, cobalt dress that looked almost like lingerie. Of modest length, it nevertheless emphasized her breasts very enticingly: soft and full, and pushed together just enough to create a hint of delicious cleavage. A simple set of glittering silver chains nestled seductively in that yummy valley between her breasts. One bare foot was clad in a strappy silver sandal, while she held the other, and jumped awkwardly on one foot, balancing herself on the doorframe. Her hair was curled and arranged over one naked shoulder.

He struggled to keep his breath from whooshing loudly.

“Whoa…”

“Hi Az,” she sounded…uncomfortable.

“Hey you. Hot date?” he chuckled, eyes gliding from her pretty toes up to her eyes.

Her throat bobbed and she didn’t answer.

Shit.

He fought the urge to cross his arms on his chest. But then he’d look threatening, towering over her, much like his father did when he was in one of his moods. Azriel swore to himself long ago to never, ever cross his arms with women.

“I didn’t think you’d be coming over,” she began, voice wobbling.

“So, you figured that you could sneak out?” he spat unkindly.

“I am not sneaking out!” she snapped, flushed and defiant. “I am going out,”

“With whom?” he demanded.

He and Elain had never fought. Never even disagreed.

They laughed together. They joked and discussed. They argued over books and movies. They talked about design, food and travel, places they wanted to visit, and things they wanted to see. Elain randomly texted him names of 3 and 2 Michelin star restaurants from all over the world, telling him where she wanted to dine, why, and eagerly opining on the menus.

Elain was his.

His little foodie, who was a fearless eater, and sampled just about everything and anything.

Elain was his.

His little art lover, who had a surprisingly wide breadth of knowledge of painting, art history and strong opinions on artists and styles. When he found out that she adored Balthus and that Egon Schiele was her favourite artist of all time, his respect for her only increased.

Elain was his.

His little intellectual, who read Anna Akhmatova’s poetry, listened to Alain Elkann’s podcast, and who could easily talk about the history of Lamborghini or Aston Martin, and Formula 1, just to satisfy him.

What the fuck was this?

Why was his Elain going on some date with another man?

Anger rose in him so quickly; he had a difficult time stopping his hands from shaking. So, he clasped them behind his back.

“It’s none of your business,” she said coldly. “I don’t have to report to you who I am going out with,”

“You don’t?” he demanded absurdly.

“No, I don’t!”

“Please tell me who he is?” he decided on a different approach. His brain was working furiously, trying to dissuade her, yet not anger her, yet find out as much information as possible.

“No!” she shook her head stubbornly. “Why do you even care?”

Why did he care? WHY did he care?

He couldn’t have been misreading all the signs. He couldn’t have been misreading her interest, her acceptance, her want.

There was no doubt in his mind that she wanted him—emotionally, as a friend, as a partner, as a lover. Reading people was his job, his calling, and he’d never been wrong. He certainly wasn’t wrong with Elain—she was an open book to him. He didn’t need to evaluate her reactions to his company to know that she was absolutely enthralled with him.

So why this?

Was it something he did? There were no hints of anything amiss the last time they’d seen each other. They were at her place, they cooked Italian together—spaghetti and clams—and he opened a bottle of Petilia Greco di Tufo, a pure, harmonious white from Campania. Then they went to the rooftop—their favourite place—and watched the city, enjoying gelato and playing cards.

Squeezing his hands behind his back, he demanded, “Has he been vetted?”

“Vetted? Vetted?” she exclaimed incredulously. “Who is going to be doing this vetting?”

She stared at him and bit out,

“I don’t like this side of you. This is crazy behaviour,”

“Why? Because you are going on a date? Suddenly. Unexpectedly.”

At that, she blushed furiously, squirming under his heavy, icy gaze.

He continued, “And with some guy you refuse to tell me anything about. Have you told Cass?”

“What? What exactly is Cass? My father?”

“Cass runs security for,”

“I know what Cass does!” she cried, looking furious, but also uncomfortable. Insecure. Anxious. “But I am not telling him. Leave me alone. I am not telling anyone,”

“Not even Nesta? Elide?” he demanded. “And what if something happens?”

“What’s going to happen?!” she asked nervously.

Nothing.

Probably nothing.

He was being an overbearing creep, but he couldn’t stop.

He needed to know. And yes, he wanted her to be safe.

“Who knows?” he shrugged menacingly. “He is unvetted. No one knows anything about him. Have you even Googled him?”

She blushed.

That’s a no.

“Unless you tell me his name, I am not leaving,” he warned. “I need to know who you are going to be with.”

“I am not telling you.”

“Fine,” he propped himself against the door. “We’ll just stand here.”

“Fine.”

The standoff continued for another few minutes, until, exasperated, she blurted,

“His name is Dorian!”

“Dorian. As in Dorian Gray?”

She rolled her eyes. “How funny.”

He took out his phone and asked, “Does Dorian have a last name?”

“Are you seriously going to Google him?”

“Absolutely I will. Since you didn’t.”

“I am not telling you.”

“Fine,” he shrugged. “I’ll await Dorian’s arrival and have a man-to-man talk with him,”

She paled.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Watch me.”

She glared at him, and then sneered, “Why don’t you invite Lorcan too! And Rowan. So the three of you can stand here, in your freaky silent vigil and glare at him, to scare him off.”

“Good idea.”

She shrugged, “And when Dorian comes here, you three can tower over him.”

“Why? Is he tiny?” Azriel snorted.

She rolled her eyes and then thrust her foot into her other heel, finally. As she tied it around her ankle, she muttered angrily, “so disappointed in you,”

“Get in line,” he snapped.

“Adarlan,”

“What?”

“His last name is Adarlan.”

Azriel immediately typed the name into the phone.

A pretty white boy. Columbia. Pre-law.

Figures.

Of course, someone like that would want someone like Elain. And she’d want him in return. Pretty, proper. Pathetic.

“Satisfied?” she rose to her full height. Her cheeks were flushed, brown eyes gleaming with anger and challenge.

She was so beautiful and so annoyed with him, Azriel was blinded by her, by her light, her spirit.

“Not for a while,” he said blandly and shrugged.

That made her redden. Not the blush of anger. Her sexy blush.

So, he went for it.

“Call it off,” he begged.

“What?”

“Call it off. Please.”

“Why?”

Because you are mine.

He wanted to tell her. To explain.

But did he deserve her? All that light and goodness? Perhaps, pretty boy Dorian was indeed more appropriate.

“Because,” he began and then heard a car pull up behind him.

Steps.

He didn’t turn around.

“Elain.”

“Dorian.”

Her face lit up with a smile.

“Ready?”

She nodded. “Just let me grab my bag.”

When she disappeared, Azriel turned around at last.

Dorian was good looking, tall, thin. Young. Looked like a kid, though Azriel figured that he wasn’t much younger than him. But Azriel’s lived about 540 years by now…at least that’s how it felt, and Dorian—Dorian probably had many girlfriends, many friends, and daddy’s money.

He was about as interesting as a bag of beans.

They stared at each other.

Azriel didn’t give a shit.

He didn’t care about anything, other than this is what Elain chose. This Dorian may end up holding Elain’s hand. Perhaps going in for a kiss. That sensuous weak mouth may touch Elain’s perfect lips—the lips that Azriel only dreamt of kissing. And what if it went further?

What if,

No.

Elain was not a ‘first date sex’ kind of girl. Never. Not his Elain.

“Treat her well,” he growled a warning.

Dorian blinked.

“What?”

“Treat. Elain. Well.”

“Who are you?”

“Consider me her brother-in-law.”

“Oh. Okay. Alright. Sure, man. Yeah.”

Fucking intellectual powerhouse.

“I am one of many,”

“Many what?” Dorian asked in confusion.

“Many brothers-in-law. And they all look like me. Some are even bigger.”

“Ready?!” Elain chirped.

“Um, yeah,” Dorian’s eyes darted back and forth.

Azriel finally gave up and crossed his arms on his chest.

“Have fun you two,” he said sweetly.

“Thank you. I’ll see you at Rhys’s pool party on Saturday,” Elain acted like everything was normal.

“Sure. Bring Dorian along,” Azriel jerked his chin. “We’ll be delighted to have him.”

Elain

“He is a charmer,” Dorian finally exhaled once they were inside the car.

She grunted in response.

“Does he have enough tattoos?” he started to reverse. “Oh, look, a Ferrari,”

“It’s his,” she bit the inside of her cheek, glancing quickly at the unmoving figure under the awning.

“His? What is he? A drug dealer?”

“Dorian!” she snapped. She was so on edge, she sat on her shaking hands the moment she buckled up.

“Sorry. Sorry. But really, do you want me to,”

She interrupted,

“What? Are you offering to beat him up?”

“I mean,”

“Dorian. He is a Navy Seal,” she said bluntly. “His bicep is the circumference of my head. His buddies are all pushing 6”7 in height and are all former Navy Seals. I am just saying. You aren’t taking him on.”

Dorian didn’t feel the need to disagree.

Azriel

Elain was his home. She was his happy place. His joy.

Her smile made everything better.

When she touched him--his fingers, his cheek—that touch carried more sensual promise than anything he’d ever experienced. And he’d experienced plenty.

Azriel’s only brush with love was when he was 18 and it was right before Morgana fucked Cassian, lost her virginity to him and got pregnant by him. He wondered if that’s what fucked him up, turned him off love for this past decade. Ploughing through endless bodies felt good, though he was usually left with the feeling of residual emptiness and longing. But he accepted it.

Elain though. He didn’t plough into Elain. Never even so much as seen her breast. And yet, his head was filled with her. Images, both erotic and mundane floated through his brain constantly. Elain’s eyes lighting up when he called her ‘baby’. Elain tasting a pastry, in her own special way, sometimes dipping her finger into the cream, and driving him wild. Elain reclining her golden head on the seat of his car, eyes closed. Elain being a little drill master when it came to arranging flowers, absolutely unperturbed by the idea of ordering Rowan and Cassian and Fen around.

That Elain was offering her smile, her time, her attention to that pretty prick Dorian was just intolerable.

If he could, he would actually climb the walls. But Azriel couldn’t climb walls, even if parkour-loving Fenrys would probably teach him how. Therefore, he went back to the shop, where Nuala was just packing up for the day.

“I need your car,” he demanded.

“We are in a garage,” she reminded him reasonably, but nevertheless tossed her keys to him. He caught them with one hand and said, “I owe you one.”

“You owe me like fifty…but who is counting?”

Nuala didn’t know why he needed her car, but she did know that he was beyond pining, at this point. He was in full love mode. As in LOVE. Capital letters, heart palpitations, sleepless nights, acting-like-a-drug-addict LOVE. Who would have thought? Not only that Azriel would fall in love at all, but that it would be with Elain.

Azriel got into Nuala’s ordinary Acura, drove to Elain’s apartment, and kept vigil the very same way she told him he would.

At this point, he didn’t care at all. He sat and waited in his shadows. Waiting like this—he learned this level of patience back in the Navy, during his recon missions—suited him, and his personality. Lorcan and he could sit like this for hours. Days. They weren’t bothered at all. Cassian and Fenrys would whine, complain and bounce like little children.

Shadows were his friends, as they’d always been, since he was a boy and hid from his abusive father. They protected him then, and concealed him now.

Finally, at an acceptable, and slightly boring, 11:23 pm, Dorian’s generic Audi pulled up.

There was no way that either of them would spot him, or assume that he was around.

Dorian opened the door for Elain, and she stepped out. They talked. She smiled. Then laughed.

It all grated on Azriel’s nerves. Go inside! He wanted to shout to her.

Then, Dorian made a move. Azriel tensed, when the pretty boy reached his hand out and ran his knuckles over Elain’s bare shoulder. The hand stopped entirely too close to her breast, as he squeezed her upper arm, holding her close. If Azriel sensed even the tiniest expression of discomfort from her, he’d be flying out of the car in a snap.

They talked some more, that gross hand still resting on Elain’s arm. But then, she opened her arms and Azriel grimaced. No way. No way was she going for a kiss.

And thank all the gods above, but she only hugged him, and not a close hug either—but that awkward, butts-out, shoulders pressed together weird hug. Something males typically gave each other, so careful to avoid any penile interaction. Then she walked to her building and gave Dorian a little wave. He hopped in his car and drove away.

What a prick. Didn’t even wait for her to get inside.

But she stood still, door unopened, keys in her fingers. And then, she peered into the darkness. A long, penetrating gaze. Aimed right at him. Like she saw through the shadows. She looked and looked, and he melted in the shadows, into the darkness of the car.

And then she flipped him off, and walked inside.

Elain

Piled into Lorcan’s Range Rover, it was Elain ad Elide, Lorcan and Connall in the car.

It was a nice day for a pool party, for a long drive to the Hamptons, for enjoying the sunshine.

Elain was having none of it.

She hated this idea to begin with—pool parties—which were full of too-rich and affected young people, prancing around in skimpy underwear. The women too perfect. The men, full of unreasonable expectations.

Feyre and Morrigan liked this crap, Cassian too, Aelin—certainly.

All the people with their perfect bodies and big hair and bigger personalities.

This Range Rover was like the car for outcasts.

Lorcan looked like he wanted to be at a pool party as much as he wanted to have a rectal exam. Connall, she was sure, would just sit by the bar and nurse drinks all day long. Elide would always find an escape with Lor, and the two of them would huddle together and make snide comments about the attendees to each other.

Elain sighed.

She was such a stupid, inexcusably dumb, fucking idiot.

“Do you know why Az isn’t coming today?” Lorcan looked at her in the mirror.

“Oh?”

She bit inside of her cheek, stifling a pathetic cry.

It shouldn’t have surprised her that Azriel decided not to attend, but she still harbored hope, somewhere inside of her that he would. That they’d be able to talk. That he’d…

Forgive her?

“No, I don’t know,” she mumbled.

“Did you have a fight or something?” Lorcan’s strange black eyes looked at her like they were scraping the edges of her soul. It wasn’t the most comfortable of feelings.

“No.”

She spent the rest of the trip in sullen silence. Even Elide didn’t try to shake her out of her stupor.

As expected, the party was ridiculously over the top.

There were throngs of people milling about, all in various stages of undress. Firm, golden flesh gleamed in the sunlight.

There were three bars—one for beer, one for cocktails and one for everything else. An ice cream station. A s’mores station. Wagyu beef sliders. Lobster hot dogs. Jamon Iberico. Wheels of Parmigiano Reggiano.

Deep down, Elain was grateful that she’d never be this wealthy.

She was happy with her flowers, her shop, and she was considering opening a pastry shop down the road. And then Azriel had his wonderful garage, but successful as it was, it wasn’t on the Darling level of wealth…And that was alright. It was perfectly enough, too much even,

She stopped.

She should’ve just told him. Everything. A long time ago. But the intensity of her own feelings towards him frightened her, and then…she fucked it all up.

She meandered absently around the premises, listening to Feyre’s and Nesta’s screeching from the pool, where both were perched on the shoulders of their respective lovers, whacking each other and others with long plastic poles. Mor and her new girlfriend were making out passionately in a hammock. Fenrys was swarmed by a bevy of busty beauties. And so on…

She was feeling foolish and exposed in her pink bikini, wishing she had a wrap or something. Her body was no worse than all of these other girls’, but she couldn’t help but compare herself to them. They were confident. Exciting. Entertaining. They flirted and laughed loudly. They had sparkly teeth and giant lips.

She didn’t know how to flirt, and wasn’t glamorous or polished like them.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone? Without a drink?”

A man sidled over, his bold eyes roaming about her body, assessing.

“I am fine, thank you,” she made to get away and walk towards the pool, but he thrust an insistent hand in front of her, holding a drink.

“Come on, sugar. Join me.”

Sugar?

And then, there were four of them. Five.

None were threatening, but being surrounded by so many men, while basically naked was outside of Elain’s comfort zone. They were joking, laughing, chugging their beers. She didn’t know any of them.

“So, who are you?” asked one of them.

“A guest.”

She angled her body towards the pool, trying to sneak past them.

“A guest? We are guests too! Nice party,”

“It is. Pardon me, I have to go,”

“But why?”

One of them caught her hand in his and pulled lightly, grounding her in place.

“Excuse me!” she attempted to withdraw her hand, but he didn’t budge. They herded her a little closer to the house. A sixth man approached, carrying a little tray with tequila shots.

“Where do you got to go, baby?”

Another hand slipped down her back and brushed over her butt, making her jerk.

“What the hell?” she hissed, but her indignation was met with amused smiles.

“Such a pretty girl, all alone. Come, join us,”

“I am not alone!” she snapped angrily.

“Oh no?”

“And who are you with?”

“My fucking boyfriend!” she lied, a little scared now.

“Oh, a boyfriend?” teased one. “And who might that be?”

“Do we know this boyfriend? Where is he?”

She looked around desperately, and then lied again, “He is inside. And coming back, soon.”

Laughter.

“Ohh, I don’t think so. I’ve been watching you for an hour, and there is no boyfriend.”

“I think I need to go,”

“But why!?!”

They goaded, “Tell us about the boyfriend?”

“His name is Azriel Bagarat,” she blurted out.

More laughter. Challenging, condescending laughter.

“Really?��

“Mr. Fancy Garage is your boyfriend?”

“Good one! I almost fell for it.”

“Azriel Bagarat-I-date-a-new-girl-weekly makes for a bad boyfriend, honey,”

“You aren’t exactly his type.”

Tears threatened to pour out of her eyes, and she was horrified by her body’s reaction to the taunting.

She threw, “and what type is that?”

“He doesn’t go for squeaky clean girls like you.”

“Maybe it’s an experiment!” laughed one of them. “He is into all sorts of fucking kink. Maybe he is wetting his cock in some virgin flesh,”

“Are you even legal?”

“You look awfully young.”

At this point, Elain was not above screaming for Lorcan, or Rowan, or anyone else. Her looking weak and pathetic was the least of her concerns.

For a moment, the teasing and the laughter died down. One of them exclaimed, “Oh hey. There you are!”

Fuck. Another one.

The scent hit her first. The sharp, intoxicating smell of his expensive Armani cologne. She’d recognize it anywhere. That hint of cedar and a chilled night air. That was him. Her home.

And then, the familiar dark arm slipped across her stomach, tugging her firmly to his front. Another hand slid to her throat, laying on it, but not squeezing. He held her tenderly, close to him, possessively.

“I missed my girl,” he whispered, his gravelly, husky voice so familiar to her ear it sent a shiver down her spine.

Why couldn’t it be like this forever? Her in his arms? Forever?

“My gorgeous girlfriend always brings all the boys to the yard,” he chuckled. And then, to Elain’s utter delight and pleasure, he placed a warm, open mouthed kiss on the side of her neck.

She shuddered.

He’d never kissed her. Never intimately. Never kissed her like this.

His. She was his. And he just marked his territory.

It was glorious. To be kissed by him was something that she’d dreamt of and here it was—unexpected, sensuous, surprisingly erotic.

His thumb stroked the side of her throat, and then he leaned in and kissed her again. Same spot. Her bare vulnerable throat, her pale neck, his for the taking. She had no control of the situation, and she loved it.

“Thank you for keeping my girlfriend company, gentlemen, but I’ll take it from here.”

Not so brave anymore, in the face of this towering mass of muscle and tattoos, the men sheepishly offered him a shot, which he knocked back and then even attempted to high-five him, though he drew the line at that.

As they scampered away, Azriel did not release Elain from his embrace. She just stood there, with his arm around her, her body pressed into his almost-naked body and all she wanted was to turn around and peek. Or have him kissed her again. She really, really wanted him to kiss her again.

He did not though.

Finally, his arm fell away and he stepped back, causing a sorrowful sigh to erupt in her chest.

She turned around. His face was unreadable, as always, and though she picked out his little tells and signs of emotions now, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Thank you,” was all she could mutter. He didn’t answer. “I didn’t think you were coming,”

“No need to talk,” he cut her off. Then turned around and added, “feel free to leave with Lorcan or Cass.”

He was walking away when she called out, “Wait. Az. I want to talk. Please,”

“No,” he said simply.

She ran after him, trying to keep up with his long stride.

“Az, please, I need to,”

“It’s Azriel to you,” he corrected bluntly. “You don’t get to ‘Az’ me,”

She swallowed, tears stinging her eyes.

“Okay…okay,” she begged. “Azriel, I want to explain, please,”

“You don’t always get what you want,” he threw back.

She paused, but then added,

“But sometimes, you get what you need.”

A tiny smile twitched on his lips. But he schooled his face into neutrality and without turning to her, said,

“If you must tag along for the rest of the day, pretending like you are my girlfriend, it’s up to you,” he shrugged indifferently.

She didn’t care. At least he didn’t send her away. At least, she could be near him, and with time, she’d thaw his anger.

She followed him silently, like dog. Trying to be inconspicuous, but she stayed at his side, even if they didn’t talk and he continuously ignored her. It allowed her time to ogle his incredible body, which she did with relish and without shame. If he was going to be nasty to her, she at least would feast her eyes on all that muscular gorgeousness. Those Cadre men—they were all stunning, at least when it came to their physiques. Azriel, though, was a little more stunning than the others. Only Fenrys, perhaps, was at the same level of attractiveness.

They went to the bar and she followed him faithfully, not letting him out of her sight. He glanced at her, sighed, shaking his head with annoyance, but Azriel being Azriel, he ordered her a mojito, while he drank Sipsmith London Gin and tonic, and after a while, thrust the drink in her hand and muttered, “I am going swimming.”

She took it and sat on a chair, stiff-backed and patient, watching him.

When he emerged from the water, she was waiting for him with a fresh drink.

“Your tattoos look like wings.”

He rubbed a towel over the black and blue tattoos on his shoulders and arms and looked at her.

“Your tattoos,” she said again, watching his wet body and the markings on it come alive on his skin. When he was in the pool, and his arms rose and fell in the water, they looked like wings. “They look like wings. Bat wings.”

“Is that a compliment?” his voice was still cold, bored.

“Yes.”

She handed him his drink and then took his scarred hand in hers. He made to pull away, but she squeezed.

“You are my boyfriend,” she reminded him. “Would be strange if you didn’t want to hold my hand.”

He had no choice but to grip her hand back,

and fuck if it didn’t feel nice.

Two days, and he was going nuts without that little hand. Two days, and he’d missed her touch like it was his life’s necessity.

And then, she gently rubbed her thumb over his own.

“Stop that,” he ordered.

“No,” she said flatly.

“Elain,”

“Azriel,”

“It’s not going to work,” he warned.

She shrugged, “we’ll see.”

They took a few more steps, her thumb still stroking his fingers, and then he stopped abruptly.

“What do you want?”

She looked up at him and said, voice surprisingly firm, “I want to get into your car and drive home with you. I want to cook you dinner. I want to hold your hand. That’s what I want.”

“And what do I want?”

“You want the same thing,” she assured him, unusual confidence in her voice and on her face.

He watched her, unblinking, but she did not balk from his assessing gaze, did not step back. She just clutched his hand like life depended on it. His jowls twitched and he bit his lip, before says, “go and put some clothes on. We are going home.”

“No. Come with me,” she tugged him with her. “I don’t trust you.”

He smiled, at last, and her heart fluttered with joy at the sight of that magical smile.

They found their clothes, threw them atop the bathing suits and as soon as they were dressed, Azriel took her by the hand and led her out to the parking lawn. It was a Maserati Ghibli today, beautifully embellished with subtle pinstripes. No one would dare do this to their 90K car, but Azriel did. And it looked stunning.

The drive wasn’t comfortable.

He still wasn’t speaking to her and she just sat there, for an hour or more, in silence, hands on her lap.

Finally, once they began approaching the city, Elain asked, “where are you taking me?”

“Home,” was all he said, his first word since they got in the car.

She thought and said, “I don’t want to go home.”

His voice mocking and obsequious, he asked, “Please tell me, Elain, where should your personal Uber take you? Would you like a coffee? A snack? A walk in the park? A trip to the library? Should I deliver you into Dorian’s loving embrace?”

“Stop it,” she snapped at him, all red and angry. “Stop with all that!”

Azriel plowed forth, ignoring her command, “where was he today, by the way? Why was I stuck rescuing the damsel in distress? Where is brave Dorian?”

“Nobody asked you to rescue me!” she lied, suddenly realizing that maybe, that kiss meant nothing to him. That it was all for show.

“Yeah, you looked like you were handling that situation very well,” he decided dryly.

“You know,” she folded her arms on her chest, “do take me home.”

“Good.”

Once they entered the city proper, Azriel fought the traffic aggressively, swearing under his breath more frequently than usual, obviously intend on getting rid of her as soon as possible.

She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t break through. Couldn’t get to him, not around the walls that he’d constructed around himself. She thought that she could, but she was wrong.

Finally, they were coming towards her block.

The silence was stifling. Unbearable.

“Why did you do it?” he blurted suddenly.

She looked at him, but before she could offer any explanations or excuses, he continued, not looking at her, “Was I not enough? Was he better?”

“He is nothing,” she managed, desperation tinging her voice, her whole being. She reached out to touch him, but he jerked his arm away.

“Don’t,” he warned. “Nothing? Why would you do this, Elain? Was I not enough? Too weird? Too brown? Too low-born? Too fucked up?”

Elain stared at him in horror. She was numb. Words failed her.

He was shaking his head.

There was true sadness, dejection written on his face. Devastation.

“I was falling in love with you, Elain,” he said so softly, she barely heard the words. “For three months, I’ve been falling in love with you. I’ve loved everything about you. I knew that the hammer would drop…One day, it would drop because it’s not like this could ever be,” he made a wide gesture with his hand.

He stopped the car next to her house.

“But I thought that it would be me. That I’d fuck up somehow and you’d dump me. Which would be…expected…”

He sighed, his breath so ragged it sounded like a sob.

“But I didn’t expect this. Truly. Though looking back, I don’t know why I didn’t?” he shrugged. “That’s what Mor did—the only other one I thought that I loved. But we were young and stupid, so…” he was looking out the window, seemingly talking to himself, not to her anymore. “But now I am almost thirty and for once, I thought that maybe, just maybe, this one time, I’d get what I want.”

Elain was weeping silently, fat tears pouring onto her hands, dripping off her face.

“I wanted you more than anything, Elain.”

Elain. Elain. Elain.

She hated that he called her Elain.

She hated that he didn’t use his usual endearments with her, that she was no longer his ‘baby’ nor his ‘love’. She wasn’t his ‘gorgeous’ or his ‘beautiful’. She was just Elain.

There was no warmth in his voice. Only some kind of hollowed emptiness, instead of the usual teasing smirk, the undercurrent of humour and love, of tender softness that he always used with her. Only with her.

“You can have me,” she managed finally through her sobs. “You can ha--…”

He finally turned his head and looked at her, that gaze dark and pitiless.

“I am not sure I want you anymore. We’ll coordinate the wedding situation and we’ll be civil to each other, for Feyre and Rhys’s sakes. Goodbye Elain.”

She sat there. He waited. Then, with a groan, he got out and went to open the door for her.

As she stepped out of the car, she begged one more time, “Azriel. Please. Please just allow me the opportunity to talk to you,” she wiped her face, with her fist.

It destroyed him completely.

He didn’t know what to do with himself, as he tracked her movement, that childish, simple, raw flick of her fist over her eyes. It wasn’t the modelled, reserved, dab-the-eye practiced move that you saw on reality shows, the fake tears, the faux sadness.

This was Elain; sorrowful, devastated, begging.

“Please,” she pleaded again.

“I asked you to call it off,” he reminded her. “I begged you. You didn’t.”

She choked on a sob.

“You threw it in my face, Elain. This random man, whom you also led on, by the way. Led him believe that you were interested. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I am too old for this…Allow me the opportunity to just deal with this break up—or whatever it is—however I can. We both need to move on.”

He’d never left a crying woman on a sidewalk.

But he’d also never been in love before. And his heart had never been broken like this.

********************

Azriel

Nuala Gennaro has been trying to reach her boss for three days, to no avail.

He didn’t respond to texts, or to calls. He didn’t show up to work. He wasn’t at the garage, at the tattoo shop, or his design studio. He didn’t seem to be home either, because she drove by his loft a few times and the windows remained dark.

She had keys to his house, but that was a violation of privacy that she didn’t feel like engaging in just yet. Was this an emergency? He gave her the key for ‘emergencies’. Was this one? A healthy, 29-year-old handsome man disappearing for three days didn’t seem like an emergency, but still, Nuala was concerned.

She was going to give him one more day, and if he was still AWOL then she’d begin to worry.

Azriel was responsible. Whatever was happening in his life typically did not reflect on his work ethic. Besides, he was usually so guarded and seemingly unemotional, it was hard to say if he was affected by anything. Nuala had met him in high school—a beautiful, quiet, mysterious boy who looked like a fallen angel and who seemed unusually confident and astute for his age.

They reconnected after he and his brothers returned from the Navy. He was darker and quieter than she remembered, and hardened in his manner and bearing, and had a haunted look in his eyes which worried Nuala for quite some time. She’d been apprenticing as a tattoo artist and they’d met to discuss her joining his venture. She wasn’t sure if this whole garage/restaurant/tattoo parlour for rich people thing was going to be feasible or even realistic, but Azriel believed in the concept and somehow, got her enflamed by his passion as well. They’d slept together over the years, but even if she would have wanted more, he wasn’t willing to give it to her. Azriel went through women with the determination to conquer, mild interest and lack of follow up. But he never gave any of himself to them. Pleasure—yes. Self—no. So, Nuala had decided—staying with him and in his life, in his business, as his protégé and associate was more important than having him as a lover, even if he was by far the best lover she’d ever had.

The only thing that did seem to affect him—deeply, powerfully—was Elain Archeron.

Nuala didn’t think that it would happen. Didn’t think that Azriel was a man to fall in love so passionately, so completely, and even if he was denying it to himself, Nuala knew him well enough to know the truth. And whatever happened between him and Elain, approximately a week ago or so, truly devastated him.

Prior to his disappearance, he operated as if he was in some sort of fog. He answered questions, he gave instructions and directions, he did whatever was expected of him—met with clients, held meetings with his car suppliers, negotiated deals—but his heart was not in it. His beloved business was no longer his priority, and that confounded Nuala, for she had never seen him like this before.

She arrived early, earlier than usual, because she needed to get crackin’. Without Azriel, things seemed…tighter…more difficult. She’d never noticed it, but somehow, he carried this business, made it seem easy, and she falsely believed that it was a walk in the park. Gods, it wasn’t! It was busy, and difficult, and required constant attention and decision making, and reports only piled on her desk—financials, inventory, guest lists, requests, specs. It was endless.

Azriel’s office, a glass cube perched at the top of the building and overlooking everything below, the entire operation, was very dimply lit this early morning. Cassian installed one-way floor to ceiling windows in the office, so no one could look inside, but Azriel was able to see everything, if he so desired.

Nuala climbed the industrial-style stairs and opened the door without knocking.

At first, she thought that there was a fire. The office was entirely engulfed in smoke, but before she could hit the alarm button, nauseatingly pungent stench of tobacco assaulted her nostrils.

“What the hell?!” she exclaimed, rubbing her eyes, and rushing to open the outside windows. She left the door open as well, to encourage some sort of ventilation.

“What the hell,” she muttered again, finally making out Azriel in the dimness, who was sprawled on the leather sofa, in jeans and boots and a black t-shirt, his arm hanging listlessly to the floor, a cigarette between his fingers. On the floor, an almost empty bottle of Jameson’s and an overflowing ashtray, stuffed to the brim with butts. Tom Waits’s insanely gravelly, bourbon-and-tobacco-soaked voice filled the space as well.

“Wow,” she crossed her arms on her chest. “Wow.”

“Why are you here so early?” he asked by way of greeting.

“Funny thing—my boss disappeared for three days. Four days, actually. No word. No text. No call. No email. No warning. No idea whether he is dead or alive. So yes, it’s made for some early mornings for some of us.”

No answer.

He took a deep drag of his cigarette and said nothing.

“What the fuck, Az?”

“Like you said,” he shrugged indifferently, “I am the boss. I don’t have to report to anyone.”

Nuala bit her lip, but did not retort in the way she wanted to retort.

“Where were you?” she inquired calmly.

“Vegas.”

“Vegas?”

“Rhys’s Bachelor Party.”

“Oh.”

“I won money. It’s somewhere,” he glanced around absently. “Give it to some charity…”

“Which one?”

“I don’t care.”

“Fine.”

She didn’t push him. But added, “you can’t smoke here.”

“It’s my shop,”

“Even though. State and city regulations.”

He put out his cigarette compliantly.

“It’s 5 am. When did you start drinking?” she asked, pointing to the bottle.

He gave a lazy glance and shrugged,

“Technically, I didn’t stop drinking…It’s been a few hours…”

She was shaking her head.

He stared into the ceiling blindly, wordlessly.

Nuala didn’t know, but she also knew. So she took pity on him.

“Az,”

“I’d like to be alone now.”

“I will leave you alone,” she promised. “But…” she let out a whoosh of air, preparing herself. “Elain,”

He didn’t react.

“Elain is downstairs.”

To that he did react. He sat up so quickly, she didn’t track the movement with her eyes.

“I found her on the steps, outside,” said Nuala. “She looks like hell. I barely recognized her.”

“Why is she here?” he asked stupidly.

“I think you should probably ask her that. She wouldn’t come inside,” Nuala explained. “She said that she’s been sitting outside since 4 am, hoping to catch you.”

But Azriel was already out the door, sprinting down the stairs, making Nuala gasp, as he took three at a time, and she feared that he’d fall down on the concrete floor and break every bone in his body.

It was only five in the morning, and the streets, even NYC streets, were empty.

It was drizzling, a summer thunderstorm about to erupt.

Elain was sitting on the doorstep, arms wrapped around her knees, huddling into herself in the morning chill.

“Elain,”

She jumped up and turned to him.

He never saw her like this—wrecked. Utterly devastated. Wilted.

His lovely flower girl, his little rose, his darling beauty—wilted. Instead of her usual colouring of pink and golden, caramel and honey and cream, she looked black and white. Like everything was leeched out of her, every spark, all joy, each remarkable hue.

They did not greet each other. She just looked at him, and,

“I’ve hurt you,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady, the tone firm. “I know that. And you can leave and discard me, and you have every right,”

Azriel just stood there, looking at her, unable to get enough. Thinking that there was a possibility that this was going to be one of their last conversations. And that possibility was unacceptable to him. It was intolerable.

The rain began to fall.

Azriel moved under the awning, angling his body so she would come and stand under it as well, but she didn’t move.

Steady droplets pounded the pavement, giving off that fresh smell of wet asphalt. The air was heavy and humid and felt unsettled, like it was preparing for a torrent.

“But know this one thing,” she continued, staring at him, unblinking, eyes brimming with tears. “I fell in love with you on Saturday, May 9th, at 7:14 in the morning. I had loved you every moment of my life since then. I will love you every moment of my life until I die. Nothing will ever change that. I don’t speak to you as some besotted, inexperienced girl, who is smitten by a handsome man…I speak to you from my soul. You have my heart, Azriel. Every broken and sad piece of me, you’ve managed to put together with your beautiful, scarred hands. I will never ask for anything of you—not even a word back, but I needed you to know this. I want you know that I’ve never loved anyone, no man, no being, not my sisters or my parents, as much as I love you. All my joy, my peace, my dreams are connected to you. You are the first thing I think of when I wake up, and the last when I fall asleep—and then I dream of you. I don’t care if you know this, but I’ve built up my whole life around you in my head, all my fantasies are about you. All I want is to love you. That is all. Not very ambitious, I know,” she wiped the tears that were flooding her face, mixing with the rain, “but I can’t think of anything that would ever bring me more happiness, more satisfaction than to love you. And…” she choked a quiet sob, “if you don’t want me—that is alright…I want you to be happy. And if I don’t make you happy, then, so be it, but,”

Azriel couldn’t help himself. Couldn’t contain his bursting breath, his aching heart. Every bit of him felt electrified, wild, untamed.

He grabbed her, his arm pressing her soaking wet body to him, the rain pouring over them, and she trembled and sobbed next to him. Such indescribable hope in her eyes. That maybe, just maybe, it would all turn out like her fantasies.

He cupped her wet, pale face in his palm and murmured,

“You want me?”

Her trembling fingers traced his cheekbone and she nodded mutely.

“Say it,” he groaned.

“I want you,” she whispered.

“Say more,” he begged. “Say everything.”

“I love you. I choose you. I want you.”

He soaked it all up. Every breath. Every word. Every emotion on her face.

“Well,” he muttered, “if we are keeping score…then I fell in love with you on Tuesday, May 5th, at 4:47 in the afternoon.”

She laughed through her tears, clutching at him with desperate hands, as if fearing that he would disappear. Turn around and leave her.

But he wasn’t going anywhere. Ever.

He was exactly where he wanted to be. Yearned to be all his life.

“First glance, baby,” he lovingly caressed her face, “first glance. Love at first sight.”

She kissed the tips of his fingers.

“You are my home, Elain,” he wrapped his arms around her and held her close to him, her cheek pressed to his chest, his hand cradling her head, “my favourite person in my life. With you, all things are possible. Sometimes, I feel like I can fly. Like I’ve grown wings and I hear the song of the wind. But I think that it’s just your voice in my head. You won’t leave, right?”

She chuckled and shook her head, “No. Never.”

“Because this week,” he shuddered, “it’s like I lost a limb…There was this phantom reminder of you, always within me, and yet, you weren’t there. I couldn’t reach and find you next to me. I’ve never felt such emptiness,” he brought her hand to his chest and lay it on her booming heart, “there was nothing here,” he pressed her hand closer, and she felt the steady beat, “empty…You weren’t with me, and there was nothing left.

“I think I’ve been in love with you—forever. I don’t even believe in past lives or other worlds, but sometimes I feel like I’ve known you for eternity.”

She raised her face to him, surprise and awareness in her red-rimmed eyes,

“I feel the same. Az, I’ve always felt the same thing!”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” she nodded vigorously, “when we held hands the first time, when we just met, I recognized your touch. I knew your scars. It was all familiar to me, like stepping back into my own home, after a long absence. Reacquainting myself with something that I already loved.”

He cupped her face in his hands and asked,

“May I kiss you?”

“You have to kiss me,” she smiled a happy, luminous smile at him. “I’ve waited for a long time for you to kiss me.”

Azriel smiled, and looked up, rain drenching his face and their bodies.

“Are we really going to do this? In the pouring rain?”

She was grinning, smiling happily, nodding, “All the cliches in the world!”

He clasped her jaw in his hand, wrapping his other arm tighter about her.

“I loved when you kissed me at the party,” she admitted, a little breathless.

“Yes?” he murmured and then dipped his head, and gently pressed his lips to her throat.

Elain shuddered against him, her breasts, nicely full, round and soft pressed tightly against his chest, and she sighed her pleasure.

“Like that?” he whispered against her cold, wet skin, and she half-moaned, nodding. So he kissed her neck again, on the other side, raking his teeth gently along the warm, pulsating vein. He kissed along her collarbones, tender and sweet, but with acute intention. Her breasts moved against his chest, their shirts nor her bra providing much of a barrier between his skin and her firm, swollen nipples.

Up her throat he went with his lips, kissing softly, until he pulled away for a moment, their breaths mingling, warm next to each other. He tilted her face just so, to have better access to her full mouth, and then kissed the plump lower lip. She clutched at his shirt and pulled him closer, the rain forgotten, the world encapsulated in his mouth, in the loving pressure of his lips against hers.

Elain looked irresistible. In his arms, where, let’s face it, she belonged, with her cheeks finally, finally taking on the familiar rosy blush.

Azriel, all 6”4 or “5 of the dark, bestial sexiness of him was wrapped around her. The low, sensual purr that he emitted turned into something more primal, hungrier when his mouth moulded into hers. The base, animalistic attractiveness of him, the bronze arms, the thick markings of his tattoos all over his skin, slithering like shadows, was almost too much for Elain to handle all at once, and she moaned, loud, and desperate against his lips. He brushed his nose against her cheek, and then nose to nose, and she was so stupidly needy for him that she struggled to stay upright. He brushed his fingertips over her lips, squeezing them between his and her own, and she licked on the pad of his thumb, laving some of the scars with the tip of her tongue.

Gods, this man could kiss.

Brutal, savage and noble--all amalgamated into one indescribable, unforgettable experience. Hungry and knowing, agonizingly slow, he devoured her mouth like it was some succulent, exotic fruit that he’s been craving. His lips explored her thoroughly, unhurriedly, tasting and savouring, caressing and worshipping. It was she who slipped her tongue inside his mouth, tentatively at first, but then gaining in boldness and confidence, especially once he sucked her in and stroked it with his own. He tasted of something masculine: alcohol, maybe, deep and rich and smokey, and tobacco, certainly, which, surprisingly, she enjoyed, but also something sexual. If Elain ever thought that she could taste passion, this lazy, indulgent sucking of his tongue on hers was exactly that. He groaned into her mouth, low and hot, and then licked on her tongue, with sensual playfulness which she loved.

She was hot in his arms, against his towering, heated body, and even the pouring rain couldn’t cool her off. The slabs of his abdominal muscles pressed into her belly and she was growing positively addicted to having him so close to her, his massive strength enveloping her so nicely, cushioning her against him. Nothing in her life has ever felt so wonderful, so sublime as Azriel felt in her arms.

Their kiss went on and on, heady and glorious, with him exploring every bit of her mouth with his tongue and lips, his hands caressing her body unobtrusively.

“Gods, I want to kiss you for eternity,” he moaned, tearing himself away from her lips at last.

She was panting, glassy-eyed, in love. He squeezed her face between his palms, looking down at her, her happiness, the unabashed joy in her eyes.

He’d finally made someone happy.

“Okay,” she agreed easily.

He smiled and kissed her again, then again, his lips creating a certain magic between his mouth and her skin and their bodies.

Elain had fought for him.

She didn’t give up. Didn’t shrug it all off. Didn’t leave in anger or panic. His absence meant something to her—perhaps, meant more than he could understand. He knew the misery of not having her in his life. It was only a week, but it was a week of pure hell. Now, he assumed that it wasn’t only he who felt that gaping chasm in his heart. She, for some inexplicable reason, loved him. Of that, he was certain.

“Now, I think we’ve satisfied any girl’s quota of romantic cheesiness,” he decided and she laughed, slapping his bicep lightly. He kissed her softly, “and I am taking you inside,” he said.

Elain only now realized that her feet haven’t been touching the asphalt for the duration of the kiss. She was literally floating aboveground, in his arms, in the throes of their first kiss.

The cheesiness quotient has been achieved indeed.

“Will you kiss me more?” she asked, as he swung her in his arms and carried her inside the shop.

“I am confident that I will never stop kissing you,” he assured and made his way up the stairs, to the office, clutching the dripping mess that she was in his arms.

She’s been here before, but he brought her straight into the attached bathroom, which was appointed outlandishly, and with a nice shower too.

“Get in there,” he ordered, “now. Before you catch a cold because of your love for kissing in the rain,”

She giggled, kiss-drunk and toed off her soaking wet converse that smacked limply on the tiled floor.

“But what am I going to wear?”

“My clothes, obviously,” he shrugged. “Unless you don’t want to, which is fine, because naked is just fine by me. Actually, preferred,”

She snickered, but looked at him, a little uncertain, and he rolled his eyes and muttered, “yes, yes, I will leave! Don’t worry. Though you know, I will eventually see everything anyway. So your modesty is misplaced on me.”

Azriel was correct. A hot shower was perfect. Despite it being late August, standing under pouring rain wasn’t as much fun as they made it seem in the movies.

The door opened and he came in, “here is some stuff for you.”

She looked at him over her shoulder, probably a little sultrier than she intended, and he winked, “Nice ass!”

“Ugh, stop looking!” she croaked, but he only laughed.

“You are the one with the bare butt!”

Then, he scratched his chin and bit his lip, making no move to leave.

“Az!” she exclaimed, blushing, but also kind of �� intrigued.

“This is a very, very, very nice ass,” he muttered to himself, but loud enough for her to hear. Her blush only intensified, when he said, “the things I am going to do with it. Mmmm,” he rubbed his lower lip with his thumb, as if contemplating what he will be doing with her butt and then finally walked out, shaking his head.

When Elain emerged from the bathroom, with her hair wrapped in the towel and wearing Azriel’s t-shirt and shorts, she found him in a leather chair, sipping coffee. He’d also changed and his hair was mussed and damp, his bare feet crossed at the ankles, resting on a leather stool.

“There is coffee for you,” he jerked his chin towards a marble coffee table that had a basket of pastries and two large cups of coffee.

He marked everything.

How she looked in his clothes, which were much too big on her, yet cozy, though the shorts that she wore were hilarious, reaching below her knee.

How she brought him his coffee first, before taking her cup.

How she sat on the stool, by his feet and crossed her legs, before giving him a croissant and biting into her own.

“Have you warmed up?” he asked, sipping his coffee. Chugging gallons of coffee American style wasn’t his thing—he preferred quick, small espressos, but this giant cup did take the chill away.

She nodded.

“Do you want to talk?” he asked.

She tensed right away, and he said, “All is forgiven, I swear. “

She eyed him suspiciously, nevertheless.

He smiled at her, and added, “But...I think that I need to understand what happened? Did I do something to,”

“No!” she exclaimed immediately. “No. It was nothing you did. Never think that it was you,”

“Alright,” he said calmly. “Then what was it?”

She didn’t look up from her cup, running a finger over the rim.

“Talk to me, love,” he encouraged softly.

“You’ve consumed me, Azriel,” she confessed, her voice barely audible. “From the moment I saw you, you’ve consumed me. And I guess…” she sighed, “I was stupid…a stupid, stupid person because I didn’t know,”

“What?”

“Whether I was infatuated, or in love with you. So I thought that maybe, if I expose myself to another man, even in some minor way, I might be able to tell what I feel,”

“And? Did you?”

“Dorian…” she swallowed nervously, “he is a nice guy. He is in Law School with Nesta—that’s how I know him. When he asked to go to dinner, and I said yes,”

She looked up at him, tears threatening to spill out from her eyes,

“And I felt nothing,” she admitted, her voice broken somehow. “I could only think of you. The entire time, I could only think of you and I knew that it wasn’t fair to him…”

Azriel agreed, “probably not”.

“And I knew that I’d made a colossal mistake… But,” she set her cup on the floor and squeezed her fingers. “I…”

She halted. Said nothing else.

Azriel waited.

“What?” he probed, sensing that there was something she wasn’t telling him. He reached for her, but she only shrunk into herself.

“Elain, what is it?” he pressed.

She blushed and murmured, “promise me you won’t leave me, if I tell you.”

His brow furrowed, “Please,” he begged, “tell me what’s going? You are legit scaring me right now.”

“You won’t lea--,”

“Don’t be ridiculous! I am not leaving you, no matter what. But are you alright?”

She pulled her hair from the towel and it spilled over her shoulders, half-obscuring her face. He reached and tucked the wet strands behind her ears, so he could see her face.

“Talk to me, baby,” he urged gently.

She exhaled and then said, looking straight at him,

“I’ve never been with a man, Az.”

He looked at her and then blurted, absurdly, “Like a virgin? But you are so hot!”

She couldn’t help and burst out laughing.

“I guess not hot enough,” she shrugged, a bit more relaxed about the situation now that he seemed relieved and smirking too.

He exhaled, deeply, bubbling his lips, “Phew…I thought it was something,” he shook his head, not able to express his relief. “Important…Something, I don’t know, serious?”

“What would be serious?”

“I don’t even know,” he admitted, “but certainly more serious than a hymen!”

He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips.

“And I appreciate you telling me,” he said seriously, kissing the inside of her hand, but then, that glint in his eyes returned and he asked, “so did you want the hunky Dorian to deflower you?”

She pushed at him with her foot and he fell back dramatically in his chair,

“Auuu, you are so unbelievably violent!” he complained, rubbing his side.

“I can be even more violent!” she threatened.

He was laughing, but then he caught her feet in his hands and squeezed them gently, holding them on his lap.

“So you didn’t have boyfriends in high school? In college?” he asked at last, genuinely perplexed.

She sighed and explained,

“In high school I was dating Luce,”

“You were dating a girl?” his brow furrowed. “I didn’t know,”

She started to laugh,

“No! Luce is a man. Lucien,”

“Oh…Oh. Every time you mentioned Luce, I just assumed he was a she.”

“No, he is my best friend. The closest friend I’ve ever had, besides maybe Nesta. We’ve always been close and then in high school, we began dating,” she tugged on her wet hair, “or rather, go on dates.”

“What’s the difference?”

“I didn’t know either—not in the beginning. But then, when we were juniors in 11th grade, he came out, to me only.”

“Ahhh,”

“Lucien’s step-father is really horrible. Like, awful. Physically abusive to all his sons, and always fancied himself this alpha male. So for Lucien to come out to him would have been suicide.

“We agreed that we’d continue our ‘dating’, until we graduate, and Luce was looking at schools only in California. As far as possible from here, from Beron.”

“And you were…okay with it?” he inquired, gently massaging her feet.

She shrugged, “I suppose I was. Luce and I had a good relationship,”

“But it was without any,”

“Intimacy,” she nodded. “I don’t know, I suppose it was enough…My mother had died recently and we lost most of our money, so I guess dating and boyfriends weren’t a priority, if I am being honest.”

He nodded with understanding.

“And college?”

“I had a boyfriend,” her voice wobbled a little, “but he…”

The heavy gaze that Azriel levelled at her told her that he already guessed.

“Sometimes,” she said, “when you are in the situation, you don’t see the warning signs,”

“Did he hit you?” his voice, so cold and menacing, sent a chill down her body.

She shook her head, “No. It didn’t get that far…Cass interfered,”

“Cass?”

“We’ve known Cass for at least a year,” she reminded him, “before he started dating Nesta. He spent a lot of time with us, at the house, because I think he didn’t want to part with Nesta,”

Azriel smiled, “No he didn’t. He wouldn’t stop talking about her for a year…I’d never seen him like that. First Rhys, then Cassian…Guess there is something special about these Archeron sisters,” he decided and stroked her face lovingly, smiling at her. She tucked his palm between her cheek and shoulder and kissed it.

“They do have a tendency to fall in love with the three brothers,” she agreed.

“Yes, they do.”

“Cass, he called us ‘his girls’—Feyre and I. Always asking after ‘his girls’, bringing us presents, doing fun things with us. And I came to love him so much,” she sighed. “And I know that he truly loves us too…But you know Cass—he is a no-nonsense kind of a guy. So once, he observed Graysen with me,”

“Graysen?” Azriel rolled his eyes. “That’s a horrible fucking name,”

She laughed,

“It matched his personality. But you know, on paper, he looked great. Handsome, good family, money,”

“So basically Dorian?”

Elain rolled her eyes,

“You are never going to have me live this down, will you?”

“Not for a while.”

“At least you are honest. Gray, he just…didn’t care, I guess? It was all about him. When I’d talk about opening my shop, it would just be a plain ‘no’. He’s put me down…” she sighed, “sometimes comment on my weight—I was either too fat or too thin.” Azriel flinched at that. She continued, “He’d tell me what to eat. What to wear. Where to go,”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered.

Then, he sat up straight in the chair and opened his arms to her.

“Come here.”

Elain, a bit unsure, and a bit rattled by the memories, moved towards him. He cupped her face in his broad scarred hands and said, “All in the past. Now, it’s just you and me.”

She nodded, gently squeezing his wrists. He leaned in closer and she nodded. His sort of power, the more aggressive and primal, and seemingly more dominant than what Graysen could ever conjure up, did not scare Elain at all. He beckoned and seduced her with that pursuit and challenge, but he did not frighten or oppress. It was similar to what Cassian possessed and how he managed to seduce Nesta with it, turned her compliant to his demand and instruction, or Lorcan with Elide. Azriel’s power, his seduction, were more cerebral, his affection passionate, but controlled. Elain could abandon herself to him, and yet she knew that she’d never be abused or taken advantage of, no matter how much control she relinquished.

This kiss was sultry and voluptuous, and it felt dirtier, heavier than their first one. He sucked her lips, is tongue softly grinding against her in a smouldering, almost smug rhythm. He fucked into her mouth steadily, and purposefully, rendering her completely breathless in his arms almost instantly, forcing all thoughts of previous loves and heartaches out of her head. She made a tiny, strangled noise deep inside her throat and squeezed his wrists harder.

“Tell me things, baby,” he muttered heatedly against her lips, thumbs brushing over her cheeks.

She smiled, “what things would you like to hear?” He kissed her softly, lips pecking on hers playfully, and said, “all the things…all the good things that you told me before,”

“That I love you?” she asked simply, looking at him with earnest, undimming desire.

“Yes,” he groaned, pulling her closer to him, until she was straddling his thighs, her legs naturally falling on either side of him. A desperate moan escaped his lips, as Elain licked on them with the tip of her tongue, before he demanded, between kisses and caresses of his tongue in her parted mouth, “more,”

“I love you. I love you,” she breathed, then panted, “you are mine…I am yours. Forever, if you’d like,”

“I’d like forever,” he agreed.

She pulled away, her soft, lovely face serious,

“Az,”

“Elain,”

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?” she asked, and he grinned, nodding. She sounded absurdly solemn about this, like she was signing a business contract. “I love you. I want you to be my boyfriend,”

“Alright, babygirl, I will be your boyfriend,” he nodded easily.

“No jokes.”

He then said in turn, “But you’ll be mine.”

She nodded.

“In every way,” he added, in a tone that did not allow space for much argument. “Body,” and he lightly ran his knuckles against the side of her breast, and she nodded. He added, “but I want more,”

“What do you want, Az?”

“Love,” he said simply.

She kissed him. “I love you,” she said.

He waited.

“I chose you, Azriel, the moment I saw you. When my heart dropped at the sight of you, and when everything fell into place. I don’t mind choosing you for the rest of my life, if you have me,” she murmured shyly.

“I will have you,” he agreed, her admission making him swallow hard, a thick glob of air lodged in his throat. He might have cried, if he weren’t so happy. His flower girl. His.

He looked and looked, and considered something. She waited, silent. Silence was always a friend between the two of them. Silence was easy and unoppressive and welcome. It allowed them space, and yet they remained together in that mute, mutual understanding. While he was thinking, she took his hand and softly kissed each scarred fingertip.

“I am calling on my bargain,” he declared suddenly, and stroked her head.

Confused, she scrunched her face and muttered, “what?”

He grabbed her behind in his strong hands and somehow, managed to rise up, with her clutching at him. His nose burrowed into her ear and she squirmed, giggling, when he grunted, “what a nice little ass!”

“You seem to like it,” she laughed, wrapping her arms around him.

“I love it!”

“Now what about this bargain?” she reminded him, a bit concerned. “What are we doing?”

“Whatever I want!”

“Az!”

“Lainey.”

He headed for the door, with her in his arms, and she screeched, “I don’t even have shoes on!”

“You don’t need shoes where we are going,”

“Azriel!”

“Why are you so fussy?” he mused, smirking, as he made it down the stairs.

“Why won’t you tell me?”

“I don’t have to tell you. All I promised was that it’s not going to be ‘bad’ whatever that means.”

She sighed, shaking her head, muttering under her breath. He, in turn, very much enjoyed her clutching at him, her body in his arms, her wet hair swiping over his arm. She looked very cute, if very ridiculous in his clothes, and frankly, he was too elated, too disbelieving that this was even real, to let her go. He held her and nuzzled at her neck, at her face, sometimes returning to her beautiful mouth.

He carried her through the still-empty premises, though waiters at the bar and delivery people in the kitchen were starting their day. When they saw their boss carrying a woman, who frequently visited him here in the past few months, they pretended not to notice, as if this was a normal affair. In fact, no other woman ever came here, to visit him. He’s never been seen with a woman, never said that he had a girlfriend, even if women seemed to lose their minds in his presence. But until this one—absolutely not the type of a woman he typically attracted—he never allowed anyone to get close to him.

Azriel made his way into the cavernous insides of the building, at last entering the tattoo shop that he had on premises. It was elegantly outfitted and bore his usual aesthetic—restrained, modern, striking with its use of black, white, and splashes of cobalt.

Elain looked around, when he set her down and pointed out, “I’ve been here before.”

He nodded.

As she wandered about, looking at various lithographs and prints with unique tattoo designed, she finally stopped abruptly and whirled to him,

“No!”

He was laughing under his breath.

“No!” she exclaimed again.

“No what?” he winked, sitting down on a stool, and patting on a leather recliner beside it.

“You…” she fumed. “No!”

He tsked, “A bargain is a bargain.”

“Azriel!” she stomped her foot.

He crossed his arms on his chest and looked at her, “Elain.”

“I am not getting a tattoo!”

“You most certainly are. Stop being a wuss and come here.”

“I am not going to,” she insisted.

“You know,” he notified her conversationally, as he started to prep his equipment, “a shitty little Bagarat tattoo is like $800 bucks,”

“Congratulations. Give it to someone else,” she offered, scowling. “Maybe someone would like a sleeve for twenty grand!”

“I won’t give you a sleeve. Jeez, you’ll probably faint at the first prick,”

She huffed, “I will not!”

He shrugged.

She pressed, “I will not. I am not afraid of needles and I have a high pain tolerance.”

“Lots of talk, babe, no action,”

Stomping angrily, she crossed the open space and challenged, “do you even know how to tattoo?”

“Cass and Rhys…” he winked. “And whenever Rowan decides to add to his collection…Or Gavriel,”

Those were some of the finest, most intricate designs that Elain’s ever seen.

“You did those?” she asked, brow furrowed.

He nodded.

“They are beautiful,” she whispered.

“Will you trust me?” his voice softened and he extended his hand to her.

Elain sighed and then slid on the lounge chair. It was comfortable. She was nervous.

“What will it be?” she asked. “May I see it?”

Wordlessly, he pulled a piece of paper from a folder, but then did not give it to her. She waited. He suddenly seemed uncertain, almost shy.

“Az,” she said gently, “may I see it? I am sure it’s beautiful.”

He swallowed and then explained, “I traced it the first day…evening…When we met, and you were here, at the garage. I,” he exhaled and then looked at her, “anyway…I was overwhelmed, I guess. I fell in love with you and all I could think of was you.”

The words warmed her up, and everything in her softened at his nervousness, at his admission.

“I want it,” she took the paper from him.

“It’s just for you,” he clarified. “It’s unique to you. I needed to quiet my brain and capture the essence of you, and this was it,”

Elain looked at the drawing. It was smaller than she expected, and rendered masterfully—an absolutely exquisite flower cradled in an embrace of two wings.

He swallowed tightly, and then said, “It’s called On the Wings of Desire.”

Without saying anything, Elain pulled up the shirt that she was wearing, just up to her chest. He looked down at her, expectantly.

She put her hand under her left breast, where her heart was and said, “there. I need it there.”

He nodded, remaining silent.

She saw that this was important to him, some ritual that he desired for her to go through, some sort of marking. That’s what it was. It dawned on her, at last. This was his mark, on her. He was going to do it himself, put a part of him, of his creation, of his work, not just on her skin, but within her blood, into her.

She clasped his hand and his eyes flew to her, a shadow of apprehension and anxiety in them, probably as much emotion as he’d be willing to show. He feared that she’d changed her mind.

“Az,” she licked her lip, suddenly nervous to request this of him. “Can you,”

“What?”

“Can you do it on you as well?” she proposed quietly.

He, it seemed, was unable to verbalize what he needed to, so she helped him, “Same spot, alright? Across your heart. So you know that I am always with you, as you are with me.”

He nodded vigorously, clearly relieved and absolutely in love with her proposition.

“Who will do it?” she wondered. “Please don’t ask me!” she laughed.

He smirked. “Nuala. She will do it. Only Nuala or Rowan tattoo me.”

She nodded and then relaxed back into the leather.

“No crying,” he said.

“Alright,” she shrugged. “Kind of weird that you are this sensitive to pain, but okay. I’ll hold your hand.”

He was laughing.

“I thought only Nesta had a big mouth like that,” he said, as he prepped the skin and pulled on his gloves.

“Mistake number one,” teased Elain.

“I am seeing that now,”

He then said, “Okay, I may accidentally brush against the boobie,”

“How accidentally?” she chuckled, while he pressed the outline into her skin. Then, the needle began its wheezing and Elain winced, as the first prick of the needle stung her skin.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” it was more painful than she expected, and she figured that the spot that she selected was probably not the best and would hurt more than an arm or a leg, but she was set on it.

“Absolutely, totally accidentally,” he lied. “You are the one who chose the spot,” he pointed out.

Elain was a trooper. She did not make any hissing noises or any sounds at all throughout the tattooing. The shading was the longest and most painful part, and even then, she remained composed and only winced a few times.

“I am sorry,” he murmured repeatedly, especially when a bit of blood seeped onto her skin.

“Prick your finger,” she whispered.

“What?”

“Prick your finger,”

“And?”

The soft doe-eyes blinked at him a few times, and she said, “I think you know what to do.”

So he did. He pricked his finger and mixed his blood with hers.

Nuala offered to tattoo ‘No Regerts’ on Azriel’s chest, if Elain so desired. She considered it, while Nuala explained that Azriel was now at their mercy and they could do whatever they wanted to him. At the end, he walked away with only a small tattoo over his heart.

It was about 8 am when Azriel and Elain left the garage. The sun was shining and there were no remnants of the previous storms. It was like it never happened. But it did happen. Everything happened.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, slinging his heavy, muscled arm around her shoulders. She’s been clutching at her side the whole time.

She shook her head no and looked at him. He smiled and then kissed her.

“I love you,” he murmured suddenly. Elain’s face broke into a loving smile and she reciprocated by kissing him back. “Let’s go home.”

#la dolce vita #elriel fanfic #elriel #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #elriel fanfiction #elain fanfic #my writing #new chapter #acotar fanfiction #sjm books #azriel #azriel and elain #elain archeron #elain

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harrywritingsbyme · 3 years

Text

HarryWeen: Home Edition

Based Off Of This Ask

And This One

This One Too

A/N: Spooky szn has come to an end...but it’s going out with a bang. This bitch right here is hot as fuck and y’all have been waiting for this one. My 🐱is quaking and yours will be too once you’re done reading it...hopefully😭. Enjoy🙃

4.1k wordsss

The day you’d been anticipating for the past month and a half was here. It was finally Halloween! Since you two and everyone else in the world were living in the midst of a pandemic, you made sure to put forth the effort to really enjoy this Halloween to the fullest. Harry’s “Harryween” show was canceled because of it, and you couldn’t go out to Halloween parties because it wasn’t safe at all. So with all of that in mind, there was only one option left; the two of you could have your own little party at home. Which is exactly what you were planning on doing. And since you and Harry loved role playing, it was kind of a given that you two would go out for this holiday in particular. Mainly you though. You started preparing and planning in the middle of September. You went down you guys’ role play list and you scoured the internet until you found the perfect idea for yours and Harry’s costumes. When you started searching for costumes for yourself, hoping that you’d find some type of inspiration, you stumbled across the perfect red riding hood outfit. So naturally, you were already planning for you to take over the red riding hood role, and for Harry to take over being the big bad wolf. And once you figured that out, the entire process of picking and choosing things for your costumes went smoothly. Once you placed your orders, all you had to do then was wait in anticipation.

Fast forward to today and you were finally going to put on your costume that you only took a quick peek at when they arrived in the mail and get Halloween started. Now you decided to give Harry a bit of a surprise and not tell him what you had planned for costumes. All you told him was that he was going to love it and to just put on whatever you laid out for him. While you did the absolute most with your red riding hood get up, you didn’t do so much for Harry’s werewolf costume. You didn’t want it to be crazy extra or over the top, that was your job. You just wanted him to be hot. And since he already had that down, you pretty much picked what he was wearing from his closet except for little more specific things. You on the other hand were going all in with your costume. You thought of just about everything when making your purchases. For starters, you found the most perfect red riding hood costume out there. The red, white, and black dress hit right above the middle of your thighs and it rose even higher in the back which was perfect. The dress itself had everything you wanted and was amazingly detailed. The entire dress was satin with a very low and frilly top half, a corset in the middle with a monochrome floral pattern lining the sides to cinch your waist a bit, and the skirt portion had a little bit of a layered effect which allowed for there to be a sea of ruffles underneath to help billow the skirt out a bit and add a touch of innocence to the not so innocent look. To make this look even better, you threw in a couple more items. You couldn’t be little red riding hood without the infamous red cape, so you found the perfect hooded cape that tied in the front and went all the way down to the floor. You also threw in a pair of white thigh highs with black satin bows on the upper bands, a shiny new princess plug with ruby red jewel heart on top (you couldn’t have too many of those), and a lacy little red g string to tie everything underneath together. And to get a real idea of how perfect everything was, the g string was so small that your pussy was barely staying in, and your ass had practically swallowed up the little string in the back. You were so glad that Harry was going to rip it off later on. To round out the entire look, you bought a cute little basket to give it all a little bit more innocence and a pair of long stain gloves. You pulled your patent leather heels from the closet and you did something really simple and cute with the hair and makeup to really drive Harry crazy.

Once you were all done putting the pieces together, tightening and pulling things things into their proper places, and creating this look, you couldn’t believe your eyes. You were completely taken aback at how good you looked and you couldn’t wait to get an even stronger reaction from Harry once you showed him. Since you were keeping the whole surprise thing going, you laid everything out for him in the room next to yours so that you could get dressed separately and do a little reveal before taking some pictures. You do a final once over of yourself before grabbing your phone and the little things you got to round out Harry’s costume and heading over into the next room. As if he could just sense your presence, Harry’s head quickly lifts up from his phone and brings his undivided attention onto you.

“Holy shit!” He gawks, quickly moving himself to the foot of the bed so that he could get a better look at you.

“You like?” You ask, quickly sitting the items in your hands down onto the bed do that you can pull the cape away from the back and do a little twirl for him.

“You look amazing.” He whispers dumbfoundedly. There were no words to describe what was going through Harry’s head. From the moment he laid his eyes on you, his mind was flooded with the filthy things he wanted to do to you. He was also excited to role-play with you a bit. He never really thought about doing little red riding hood and the big bad wolf but he was very happy that you did because this was crazy hot.

“I’m glad you like it.” You reply happily, coming in closer to him.

“M’just trying to figure out why my costume is so simple.” He asks amusedly, pulling you closer between his legs.

“I didn’t want it to be costumey, I just wanted it to be hot. And the tattered red plaid and ripped blue denim was the only werewolf costume inspo I could find.” You say simply, moving yourself onto him so that you’re straddling his thigh. “Plus I didn’t want to be scared while you’re fucking me. But I did buy you some fangs and one of those werewolf mask things.” You continue, reaching over to grab the two items.

“I think I’ll stick to the fangs.” He chooses, taking the fangs from your hand.

“Can you just wear it for one picture please?” You ask sweetly, sitting the mask down wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“Fine, but only if you let me do anything I want to you tonight.” Harry bargains, bringing his hands down to your thighs.

“Of course daddy.” You readily agree.

“Good. Now as much as I like having those tits in my face, we should probably head downstairs because the longer you’re on me like this, the harder it’s going to be to get those pictures you want.”

“Then let’s go.” You reply, bringing your feet back to the floor before standing up in front of him. You then proceed to waste no time grabbing your things from the bed, pulling Harry up as well and walking you both out of the room.

Now it was time to set everything up. You wanted perfect photos so you took out the tripod and clicker so that the photos could be perfect and so that this process could be hurried along to the fun stuff. After finally positioning the camera in a way that has the best lighting that flatters you both, and figuring out the cameras timer, you and Harry take some pictures of the both of you in your costumes. You were able to get some photos of just yourself, some cute coupely photos that you were definitely going to post on Instagram, the one picture of Harry in the mask, and you also got some that were definitely going into your archive of more nsfw photos. When you took the cape off to get some pictures of the actual outfit, Harry’s hands were all over you. When the final second markers flashed across the phone screen, Harry’d spring into action and do something inappropriate. In one of the photos, he randomly pulls you up into his arms, squeezing his hands into the flesh of your ass, and lightly sinking his teeth into your neck. Another time, he stood behind you and just as the time began to wind down, he reached around you to push his hand up the front of your skirt to cup your barely covers pussy and used the other to cup one of your breasts all while keeping you tight against him with his face in your neck. Every time he did this your pussy got wetter and you got more excited for what was going to happen a little later. Luckily for you, a little later wasn’t going to be that much later. When you bend down to undo your heels after you two were done taking pictures, you gave Harry a full view of what was going on underneath your dress. Your fleshy thighs and ass spread perfectly so that he could see the princess plug and the practically nonexistent panties you had on. Seeing that on top of being teased for what was going on an hour was more than just getting to him. Harry was fired up and he couldn’t take it any longer. So once your shoes were completely off and you were no longer using the wall for support, he quickly pushes you against it, leaving no space between you two. And before he even says a word to you, Harry brings one of his hands up to wrap around your throat and he moves the other down and up your skirt to toy at the plug that was pushed into you.

“’Now we’re gonna play a little game. I’m gonna let you run away, and you better be prepared for me to catch you.” Harry growls into your ear, tightening his grip on your throat. In that moment, he just wanted to fuck his cock into you and just pound you right into the wall. You managed to look like a sweet innocent girl and a filthy slut at the same time. Harry could barely wrap his head around it all. The only thing he knew was that he was definitely going to have some fun with you tonight. “Understand?” He asks, keeping his grip on your throat. You could barely form a word because of his tight grip on you so the only response you gave him was a pitiful nod yes and a whimper, causing him to let go of you completely. “Now run.” He growls, moving back to let you go and get a little head start. And once he does, you’re off. You didn’t even pay attention to where you were going you just went. Your entire body was on fire from his authoritativeness and you wanted him to make a mess out of you. Like no breaks, just back to back pounding and licking into you. You started off in the living room and you made it to the kitchen and the hallway leading to the laundry room. Before you could even decide which way to turn, Harry has his arms tightly around you and is dragging you both over to the kitchen island where he turns you around and hoists you up onto the cool surface. His hand goes back around your throat, he pulls your forward, and leans in to close the gap between his mouth and your ear. “I caught you.” He whispers cynically before pushing your upper body down against the counter.

He then pulls you a little closer to the edge so that he could easily fuck into you before pushing the bottom of your dress up to reveal your skimpy panties. When he sees the tiny string completely enveloped by your puffy and wet cunt, Harry can feel his cock instantly twitch in his pants. Your cunt was so plushy and puffy on the outside, (as well as inside) so seeing the thin strip pushing in between your lips was definitely a sight he’d never get out of his mind.

“Aww, was little red not able to find panties to fit her pussy?” He asks condescendingly with a smirk spread across his face before snapping the flimsy fabric off of you. When he lifts it up to inspect, he can see the darker spots where you drenched them with your juices. So since your mouth hung open because of his grip on your throat, Harry simply lowers the panties down into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself while he fucks you. He then uses his free hand to swiftly undo his pants and release his cock from his pants. Instead of giving himself a couple tugs, he pushes his hard cock right into you. As he pushes in, your toes are curling as tight as they possibly can. His large cock pushing you apart felt so good. Even the grip on your throat felt good. As he enters into you, you could hear his moans and growls as his cock is enveloped with your pussy. “Fuck! Such a good cunt.” He groans, pushing in the rest of the way before beginning his thrusts. He quickly shoves his hips back and forth against you, thrusting his cock in and out of your cunt. You felt like you were floating; his hand was around your throat and he was fucking you hard against the counter. You couldn’t believe how bad you needed him to pound into you like this. He was relentless with his thrusts and didn’t stop pounding into you or circling his thumb around your clit. It was like he was addicted to fucking your walls. Once he pushes in, he just can’t stop. He loved the way you let out the most pathetic whimpers as he enjoyed your spongy walls around his cock.

As he continues to thrust into you, you can feel your sweet spot deep inside you beginning to warm up in the pit of your stomach. The way he continuously thrusted into you and circled his thumb around your clit was absolutely insane. He had you right in the edge of your release, and you couldn’t wait to fall right over into it. While you were clenching around him and squirming in his grip, Harry too was feeling his release bubbling up inside of him. He could feel your walls tightening with every thrust he made and he could also feel you becoming wetter and warmer as he continued on which meant that he was on the edge as well.

“Should the big bad wolf let you cum?” He grunts, loosening the grip on your throat and slowing down his hips to deliver deep and sharp thrusts into your cunt.

“Please!” You beg. You felt like you were about to explode.

“Cum!” He grunts loudly, slamming into you once more and holding himself right against you as he emptied himself into you for the first time of the night. And as he lets go, so do you. Your walls rapidly contract around him as you just let go around as well. After he’s completely done riding the wave of his release, Harry pulls his cock out of you and bends down towards your cunt. Your legs were limply spread against the counter so he takes this opportunity to just dig right in. He opens his mouth wide and goes right into licking into your freshly fucked pussy. Since you were still recovering from your first release, you were extremely sensitive. So having his mouth on you so soon was definitely a shock. Your hands went straight to his hair in an attempt to push him away a bit.

“Oh my-Fuck!” You whine out feeling his tongue go deeper despite your pushes. When you continue pushing at his head and squirming, Harry pulls away from your cunt and stand up to tower over you. He then reaches out and cups your throat again, only this time, he pushes down to pin your head back against the counter.

“When i eat you out, don’t fucking run away from me. Don’t push my head away. Run, Im pulling your ass back. Touch me, i growl at your ass. Do not disturb me when I’m eating.” He snarls, making sure to get his point across to you. “Was gonna make you cum again, but since you obviously don’t deserve it, you’re gonna make me cum instead.” He continues, releasing his grip from you and pulling you down from the countertop. “Now on your knees.” He instructs.

“Yes daddy.” You reply submissively, quickly dropping down to your knees in front of him.

“Open.” He further instructs, wrapping his hand around his cock that was still hard. He couldn’t get enough of you. When your mouth is parted wide, Harry steps a bit closer to you before pushing his entire length into your open mouth. As he travels past your tongue and down your throat, you gag a little and you try to rest your hands against his thighs to stop him but he quickly slaps them away. “Stop trying to fight me. A little girl like you shouldn’t be playing with wolves like me.” He growls, nudging at your throat a bit to get you to gag around him again which causes him to chuckle a bit. He holds himself there for a few more seconds before pulling out of your mouth and letting you catch a breath. When you’re all caught up, you go in to take him back inside but he steps back a little, causing you to crawl forward a bit. “That’s it little girl, crawl for daddy’s cock.” He taunts, watching you inch closer on your hands and knees with every step he takes.

Once you’re full on crawling, Harry’s losing his mind. You look like a complete fiend for his cock as you continue to follow him. He could just imagine how wet your cunt was as you followed his cock. To make it even worse, your ample cleavage was spilling right out of your dress. They were just calling out to him to grab them in his hands and just squeeze and play with them. As you crawled, Harry continued on making little remarks about how much of a cockslut you were for him and how pretty you looked on your knees. Meanwhile, your focus was directly on the hard and glistening cock right in front of you. You just wanted to feel him in your mouth again. After a little more crawling, the two of you make it back to the living room where it all began. He manages to move you both around so that you’re in between the side of the couch, and his towering body. Without waiting much longer, Harry grabs the back of your neck and he pulls you forward and back onto his cock. He wraps a hand in your hair and begins to thrust in and out of your mouth, listening to your moans and gags aground him. Your mouth and throat felt impeccable around his cock. Again, you were warm and wet which was all he could ever ask for when it came to your mouth. Because he was tugging at his cock as he lured you back into the living room, Harry was pretty worked up by now. This meant that he was really close to letting go again. And just as he does, Harry pulls his cock from your throat so that he could be right on your tongue and flood your mouth with his cum.

“Fuck!” He growls loudly, keeping his grip on your hair tight as he lets go. Spurt after spurt he floods your mouth with his thick cum. He came so much that it began to drip out of the corner of your mouth. Right now you were starting to wish you hadn’t tried to push his head away. Once he calms himself down a bit from his release, he pulls his cock from your mouth, unwraps his hand from your hair, and grabs you by your forearm to lift you up from the floor. You looked so pretty with your watery eyes and cum on your face that he couldn’t help but go one more time.

Without warning, Harry quickly lifts you up into his arms and rushes you both upstairs to the bedroom. Once inside, he drops you onto the bed and quickly removes every piece of clothing on his body along with the before moving onto you. He pulls at the strings at the front of your dress to loosen it from your body beef pulling it off and tossing it behind him. He pulls the gloves from your hands as well and leaves the stockings on because why not and then crawls onto the bed. Then he pulls your hips up and positions himself behind you so that he’s nudging at your entrance.

“Please daddy!” You whine out to him, pushing back in his direction, trying to sink his cock into you. You really wanted to feel his cock and cum again.

After watching you beg and move around a little bit more, Harry finally gives in and pushes into you. It felt so good, you herein need of a second release and you were finally going to get it. As he quickly thrusts himself in and out of you, Harry decides to play with your second hole a bit. Continuing his thrusts, he wraps his fingers around the top of the plug and he slowly pulls it out of you. He watches as your hole seizes back up and listens to your desperate moans get louder because he’s done this. He then spits down onto your hole and pushes the tip of the plug around there area to spread it.

“Oh my god!” You scream, feeling him go even deeper.

“Feeling good babygirl?” He asks nonchalantly through his own pants and moans, keeping his attention on teasing your second hole and watching the flesh of your ass move in synch with his thrusts.

“So good. M’gonna cum.” You slur, as you feel yourself becoming lightheaded from the massive release that was fast approaching.

“Wanna cum on daddy’s cock?” He asks, pushing the plug back into you in the process and continuing to thrust into you.

“Please” Whine softly. When Harry hears you respond in that way, he can tell that you’re about to have a really big release. So he pulls himself out of you and in one swift motion your flipped onto your back with Harry between your legs. He wastes no time pushing back into you and slamming in as hard and as fast as he can go. As he does, he can see that your eyes are watery and rolled back, and you have a little bit of drool forming in the corner of your mouth.

“You look so pretty getting fucked stupid babydoll, milking my cock for all I have, such a good girl.” He praises, slamming down onto you and feeling his third and definitely final release creeping up on him. “Daddy loves his stupid little girl.” He hums shakily, feeling himself nearing the edge as well. When his thrusts become staggered, Harry realizes that he can’t hold it anymore. “Now be a good girl and cum with daddy.” He grunts, stilling himself inside of you for the final time of the night and emptying whatever drops of cum are left in his body. And while he lets go, so do you. But yours is much more intense. Your body is full on quaking as you not only let go but also squirt all over him. The fact that he was hitting that sweet spot over and over again and the fact that you were desperately in need of a second release catapulted you right over the edge and into a powerful release.

Once he’s completely done, Harry collapses right onto the bed next to you. The both of you were deep into your post orgasm comas and you were going to be there for a good while too. There was just a lot for your bodies and minds to process.

Maybe being stuck inside for Halloween wasn’t so bad after all.

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yuzukult · 3 years

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from home 02 || jjk & reader

title: from home pairing: jungkook x reader genre: richkid!jk, baker!reader, fakedating!au, fluff, angst, e2l, smut in future chapters word count: 8.1k+ prompt: jungkook is the youngest of five boys, the last in line to truly inherit any his parents’ money. but what if his mom suddenly cuts him off due to his current poor behavior and he’s forced to learn how it feels like to be part of the working class? a/n: ;n; wishing this was longer than i made it... please expect the next one to take a bit of time! but you never know. i’m unpredictable.

please let me know if you’re interested in being tagged! but also let me know if you want to be removed! taglist: @scalubera @strugglingartistno16-2

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Waking up on an unfolded futon is no comparison to a deluxe California King bed with pearly white satin sheets.

For one, it meant that he wasn’t actually on the futon itself rather on the floor instead. Jungkook has been having an exertion amount of time trying to not fall off the limited dimensions of his now mattress. In addition to that, even after going grocery shopping, he feels like he’s spending an endless amount of money on a daily just to keep his fridge stocked because every time he pulls that door open— there’s nothing in the fridge. How is that even possible?

At times like these, he missed the personal chef. Sure, he couldn’t remember the gentleman’s name, but he made a mean grilled cheese sandwich. Instead, Jungkook enjoys a sad and limp piece of string cheese for breakfast.

For once, he’s grateful that the distance from home to work is short, really being an approximate 10 minute walk, meaning that he didn’t need to take an Uber or possibly buy a car? How did poor people transport from one place to another? He thinks of you on his route to work; the things you yelled at him the night on Hoseok’s yacht, how he purely innocently asked if he could pay for your future endeavors and the reaction he pulled from you that could only be described to be full of resentment. You really didn’t like him.

True be told, the feeling of hatred is mutual.

Jungkook dreads coming into work, mostly because the sight of you is a constant and the current impression he has of you is that you’re just plain mean and bossy. He hates that whenever he’s in the midst of a task, you manage to always slide in to critique every action he performs. How old did you think he was? Some thirteen year old with an adult job? While at the end of the line at the cashier’s station, Jungkook places the bread at the bottom of the brown bag but before he’s ready to drop the jug of milk on top, you shove his hand away. “You’re going to flatten the bread if you do it like that. Heavier duty items are at the end of the pile. Lighter and fragile items on top.” He scowls. Or when he’s in the parking lot, while lost in his thoughts, he nearly propels one of the carts directly into a moving car, and surprisingly enough, you’re standing outside beside him, swooping in with your fingers wrapped around the handlebars with sweat dripping from your forehead while halting the motions. “You almost dented that guy’s car!” He wants to tell you ‘and so what?’ but he refrains from saying anything because when he turns to look at you, you’re already halfway down the lot, making your way back indoors.

Then when he’s stacking the canned goods on the shelves, you approach him from behind and tell him that he’s doing it incorrectly. “What’s wrong about putting stuff on shelves?” He asks, a hint of annoyance in his tone. “The labels aren’t facing out. How are the customers supposed to know what it is?”

“Turn the can around?” He says matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, so do it.”

When you walk away, he’s tempted to grab the canned corn he’s restocking and chuck it at the back of your head, but he holds himself back. This is for his mom, for the development of himself, to prove to his brothers that he wasn’t just some useless, spoiled kid. You didn’t believe in him anyway which is probably why you’re being so difficult— oh how he wished he could ask for a replacement trainer. So why waste his time trying to please you when he really just needs to sway his parents? The main goal is to get the money back into his pockets anyway.

Once finishing his list of tasks, he advances toward Hoseok who’s in the middle of mopping a spill in one of the aisles. Apparently, someone had dropped a jar of pickles, filling up the place with the stench of vinegar, scrunching up Jungkook’s nose. “Is she always this mean?”

Hoseok glances up from the pile of pickles on the ground, chin resting on the handle of the mop, discouraged to clean the mess. “Who?”

Jungkook skims the area to confirm that the coast is clear before he whispers your name discreetly. “I feel like she’s looking over my shoulder 24/7. It’s like she’s out to get me. Maybe she wants to catch me doing something stupid and get me fired.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes in response before finally crouching down to throw the scattered pickles into the trash bin beside him. “No, she doesn’t. You’re her responsibility, so if any higher ups saw you fucking around or fucking up and find out that she’s the one who’s supposed to train you, she’d lose her job. She can’t afford that, Kook.” Jungkook sighs, observing Hoseok as he’s trying to gently pick up the piece of glass that’s drenched in the juices. “Well? Are you just going to stand there and watch after what I just told you? Help me!”

Abiding by instruction, Jungkook still sighs heavily, bending his knees to grab the pickles cautiously between his index finger and thumb. This is rancid, and the way his face contorts in disgust when he flings it into the trash can says it all. He can’t believe that he’s in this position right now when he could be sitting in the middle of a golf course on a Wednesday morning, enjoying his fifth glass of merlot, with a pretty girl by his side, complimenting him every time he swings his golf club. “I miss the rich life. I don’t know how you do this everyday. Is this even worth it for you?”

Shrugging his shoulders, he grabs the last piece of glass on the floor as Jungkook tosses a handful of pickles he grabbed previously. “I just didn’t want my parents controlling where the money was going anymore. And I got tired of being called a prodigal. I wanted to be someone who could do things themselves without having my parents giving me money.”

“But how could you hate that! Isn’t that their job as parents? Taking care of you, giving you more than you need? That includes money. We’re just lucky because our parents are rich.”

Standing up from his position, Hoseok brushes his hands off on his apron as Jungkook follows in suit. “But that’s what I mean. Do you hear yourself? The ‘we’re just lucky because our parents are rich’ thing is getting old. Don’t get me wrong, I want to be just as rich but I want to be wealthy myself, not because my parents gave me the means to be.”

Hoseok makes a point but not one that Jungkook can fully grasp onto. He understood where the older male was coming from, but truth be told, Jungkook still wanted his parents’ wealth in the end. Hoseok had dreams he was chasing, ones where cutting ties from his parents would be beneficial but to Jungkook, he didn’t have any aspirations of his own to obtain like that.

“Anyway, I digress. She means well. She needs this and that café job too. Her parents don’t have any type of money, if anything, she purposely cut herself off from them so that they wouldn’t have to pay for her. Moving back home is her personal embarrassment, just like how being kicked out of your home is yours.”

“So what am I supposed to do?”

Hoseok pulls his lips into a tight line, dropping the mop into the bucket to extract the vinegary liquid out. “Work with it. Be better than what she’s asking for. I learned a lot from her and I’m sure you can too. Who knows? Maybe she’ll pick a couple things from you along the way.”

That’s when he tests the waters.

For the past two hours, that’s exactly what Jungkook does. He tries. Harder than usual. When you walk by, he is especially polite to customers with the brightest smile his cheeks will allow. Or when he’s back to organizing cans on the shelves, he’s attempting to show all the labels, but you’re back, questioning why he’s even stacking cans with dents in them. Then there’s the time he’s standing at the station for the self-checkout... but he gets distracted while playing on his phone and you nearly smack the living shit out of him.

“Why do you freaking hate me so much?” He exasperates, arms dropping at his sides from frustration. The shift is finally over, thank god, but he’s still on edge as to why you always have something to say, so he chases after you into the locker room. “All you do is attack me the entire day and it’s already difficult for me to adjust to being here.”

“Listen, I get it. It’s hard. Well, I don’t really get it because I’ve been working most of my life, but this is completely new territory for you. Regardless, you still have to learn how to do this, Jungkook. Your parents aren’t going to be supporting you anymore.” Wrong. Wrong because in his mind, his parents are going to welcome him with open arms when he proves his capabilities. This situation is only temporary. “So, I want to help you. If you really need anything, here’s my number. Call me.”

“Is this a way for you to get my number?” Jungkook raises a brow suggestively. Clicking your tongue, you circle back into your locker, grabbing your bag of items. “Trust me, you would’ve known if I wanted to get in your pants. Plus, I’m giving you my number, not asking for yours, dumbass.” Flinging a crumpled piece of paper at his forehead that so happens to have your number on it, he pouts after rubbing his head. “Rude.”

“Jungkook,” You’re speed walking out of the supermarket with Jungkook trailing behind you as quickly as he can keep up with. Did you run track before? “I really don’t want to hear your excuses about why you were snooping on me while I was changing my shirt.” He didn’t see you changing, he merely caught a glimpse, but even so, it was only a bit of your tummy that he saw.

Nonetheless, he knows you’re just joking because of the light laughter that escapes from your lips afterwards that sounds like the melody of his favorite song. Maybe you weren’t so bad after all. Maybe it was just a facade you had to put up at work most of the time. “I wasn’t—“

“Jungkook.”

You freeze at the sound of his name; Jungkook’s reaction is delayed as he bumps into you from behind while his head turns to the voice. “Jungsik Hyung.”

Jeon Jungsik. Also labeled as the 3rd child or middle son of the Jeon Family. He’s known to be the philanthropist, the humanitarian of the Jeons, donating his percentage of the earnings from his family’s corporation to a different charity each time he’s the headline of an article. Jungsik in person is even more handsome than the pictures you’ve googled online; simply breathtakingly beautiful just like his personality and heart. Undercut hair with a navy blue suit that compliments his figure, he has a clean appearance with a demeanor that is nothing more than a calm and gentle nature. Despite all the greatness he possessed, he unfortunately had to go through the loss of his late wife, who the doctors had discovered she had cancer, later choosing to spend her last days in Africa, teaching the children English.

You may have looked up the prettiest Jeon brother on every search engine on a random Tuesday night, sitting on the floor with your laptop perched on the coffee table, glass of moscato in hand. Dating a guy like him would be a dream— yet, there you were, getting shit-faced drunk on moscato with a mud mask that was hardening on your face.

Your thoughts are interrupted at the tail end of Jungkook’s introduction between you and his brother, bowing abruptly at the realization. “... She works here. Currently occupied with training me.”

Jungsik grins, pearly whites blinding your eyes. “Admirable. Thank you for looking out for our little Kook. He’s not the best at working, so I figure he must’ve made things difficult for you.”

“Occasionally,” You joke, replicating the contagious smile on his face. “But don’t worry, Jungkook will get there. Once his training portion is over, I’m sure he’ll manage.” That’s not what you said at Hoseok’s yacht, is what he wants to say, but definitely not in front of the angelic brother. Jungsik chuckles deeply at your response, tips of his ears flushing pink at your interactions, and it makes Jungkook cringe.

“That’s great. I’m sure that you two have had a long day, so is there any way I can treat you guys to dinner?”

You can feel Jungkook’s hot breath down your neck, fuming with anger with smoke probably whistling out of his ears. “Why, why, why did you agree for us to have dinner with Jungsik? This is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me!” He whispers aggressively beside you but you only ignore his reaction by flipping another piece of pork on the grill. “And why the hell would you suggest coming to this dump? He said he would take us out to a five-star restaurant!”

Admittingly so, a Korean BBQ joint located in some-what of an alleyway is far from a fancy restaurant, but this place was good, your favorite, and why not introduce Jungsik and Jungkook to food that doesn’t need caviar for it to be considered delicious?

Jungsik excused himself, looking kind of out of place in this low-ceiling location, but he forced a smile anyway before looking for the bathroom. “We can just tell him that we have to go or that you’re not feeling so well. He’ll let us make a run for it, trust me.”

You glance over at Jungkook. “You can do that. I’m staying.”

“But why!”

“Because he seems nice.” You’re adding more meat on the grill again. “Plus, I’m starving. I was going to come here anyway.” Jungkook pauses, watching as you casually maneuver the food with the prongs. “... You were going to eat alone?”

Dropping the prongs, you pick up your set of chopsticks to grab yourself a piece of kimchi. “Well, yeah. Who else am I supposed to eat with?” You shake your head, jumping back on topic. “If you want to leave, feel free. I’m still going to be here.”

“Hell no. I’m not leaving you with Jungsik hyung.”

Tilting your head with narrowed eyes, you blink. “What’s wrong with Jungsik? He’s literally an angel. Like I actually can’t believe that you guys are brothers.”

Jungkook chews on his bottom lip anxiously as if he’s holding back. “I just think he’s not a good guy. So I’ll stay.”

“Sorry I took so long,” Jungsik places his blazer on the seat beside him, rolling up the sleeves of his white button up. “I just needed to wash up. So... how long have you been working at my mother’s supermarket?”

You hum in thought, counting the months from when you first started. It was during University, possibly around the time you were starting your second year... “Probably around three years? And the café... maybe two? I think I’m approaching two.”

Jungsik’s mouth gaps open. “Wait, you work at my mother’s café as well?” Nodding in response, you place a couple of the meats onto Jungsik’s plate as Jungkook eyes you carefully. “Tuition doesn’t pay itself. And I plan to start a business one day, so two jobs is the only way to get to that finish line.”

“I—I offered to pay,” Jungkook interjects into the conversation, feeling like he’s the third wheel suddenly. “I told her she didn’t need to work the two jobs and I’d help her pay for the bakery.” That’s when Jungsik’s gaze meets Jungkook’s; his stare is unreadable and Jungkook can’t place a finger on what’s running through his mind. “Are you two... dating?”

“Why does everyone ask that?”

“Well, Jungkook is offering to pay for your business,” Jungsik begins, watching the expression on his younger sibling’s face who reciprocates the action, “and he never does that.” He pauses for a moment before breaking the staring competition with Jungkook, fixating back onto you. “But then again, Jungkook spends the family’s money heedlessly, so that’s expected. I’m sure your business is legitimate, but Jungkook probably didn’t even do any research before gifting you that proposition. And I don’t really see Jungkook in a relationship, let alone someone like you, anyways. No offense. I think you’re great, hence why I don’t think he could even land you.”

Cheeks flushing pink, you dip your head. “Thanks.”

There it was. Even when in front of a stranger, Jungsik is just like his other brothers, shamelessly speaking about Jungkook in a condescending manner. Jungkook confesses that Jungsik’s hypothesis is right— Jungkook did exactly do all those things he listed, but that doesn’t mean anything. It was a kind gesture, one that he figured Jungsik would’ve done himself, and he couldn’t see what was wrong with the decisions he had made. You were passionate about a dream, realistic with the expectations, and had mutual friends with him. He felt like despite the constant bickering, he still trusted you. More than his own siblings, at least.

The silence between the three of you was swelling, tension predominantly between the two males, so you shatter that glass by placing some beef on Jungkook’s plate. “Try that.”

“... You want me to try that? I don’t eat regular grade beef.”

“Well kid, you do now because you can’t afford any of the kobe stuff. Come on, Jungkook, just give it a shot.” Grabbing a bed of lettuce, you place a piece of garlic, swipe of gochujang paste, and drop a slice of beef onto it before wrapping and bringing it close to his mouth. “Here, try it like this.”

Jungkook can feel it. The way Jungsik studies the actions between you and Jungkook was a test. Jungsik traveled far and wide, spent time in first and third world countries, eating things that Jungkook can only imagine of eating... well, he doesn’t want to imagine some of those things, but ultimately enough, he’s testing the waters. Jungsik would go home later that night, report this to the other four siblings and to his parents in the luxurious dining room where they’d have their meetings, which meant one thing: he had to eat this concoction that you’ve created.

You lift the lettuce wrap up, gesturing him to open wide. Slowly, he parts his lips, just enough for you to thrust it into his mouth as he winces, the juices from the meat spilling out from the sides. As you wipe the spill with a napkin, his eyes dilate with a sparkle. "Holy shit. That's good."

Jungsik lets go of a breath he's been holding. "I didn't think you'd actually eat that. Don't think I've seen you eat anything without caviar, gold flakes or truffles."

Jungkook turns to his older brother, cheeks full of the lettuce that you've fed him. "Well, you thought wrong. I'm different now, hyung, and it hasn't even been that long since I've left home."

"Correction, since mother kicked you out." He retorts, attention turning back onto you. "Anyway, thank you. This amount on my plate should be enough for me tonight as for I already had a very large dinner before stopping by the market. I'm going to have to leave after this— but feel free to order as much as you like, I'll keep my card on the tab."

"Oh," Face crimson, you wave your hands in front of you in disagreement, "Don't do that. I don't mind paying."

"No, no," Jungsik says, taking a mouthful of the meat into his mouth. "It's the least I could do since you're looking after my little brother. After all, he needs all the help he can get."

When Jungsik says goodbye and exits the store, Jungkook found it inevitable to ponder why his brother decided to come by anyway. Despite his common reputation of being the sweetest and most caring Jeon, he was known to be devious to those who were close to him, shady majority of the time, and every step he made had a reasoning behind it.

The moment Jungsik steps out of the restaurant, he spits out the chewed up beef behind the door, eyes meeting with Jungkook through the windows before a mischievous smile stretches from cheek to cheek. What was he up to?

Inhaling sharply, he shoves it under the rug for future thought. "Enjoying the food?"

"Mmm," You hum, cheeks full of rice and kimchi, an unrecognizable amount of joy written across your face. "So good. Definitely worth dealing with you and your brother's weird relationship. Is this what it's like with all of your siblings?" In spite of the grain of rice stuck to your chin, he oddly thinks this sight of you is... cute.

"Usually. They aren't really fans and disagree with almost all of my life choices except for going to University. I graduated with all honors and on the Dean's List multiple times yet I'll never be up to their standards."

"Well, to be fair, those gossip magazines talked a lot about your scandals." You grab a napkin to wipe the area around your mouth and he suddenly misses the rice that rested on your face.

"What? A twenty-three year old guy can't sleep around? What's wrong with that?"

You shake your head in response, leaning back against the metal chair that begins to bring discomfort to your tailbone. "Nothing wrong with that, but your choices on who you decide to bed is definitely controllable. You keep luring in those rich girls who do nothing all day but spread rumors and make it their life goal to assure your life is a living hell." Tapping your fingers against the table, your lips purse up in thought before resting your arms beside your plate. "Wanna order some drinks? It's on your brother's tab and you seem like you need to loosen up a little."

Five shots of charm soju in, Jungkook's supple skin is flushed red.

"I only sleep with those types of girls because I think they have somewhat potential in dating me. But in the end, they're all the same. So I just end the night with a quick bang and go home." Strangely enough, even with Jungkook's history with drinking, he's actually a lightweight. You'd think he had a better tolerance with his constant intake but you've been proven otherwise.

Eyes hooded and face pressed against the palm of his hand while his elbows rest against the wooden table, he hums to an unfamiliar tune. "I just want to get through this part of my life. Bring home someone who's steady, realistic, and liked by my entire family where they actually have hope in me again."

"You can, just don't bring any of those girls home again." Alcohol doesn't hit you as hard as Jungkook does, or at least, five shots doesn't, but you admit you're a bit tipsy. "I'm sure someone like that will fall for you. You're like... pretty and with money."

He scoffs. "Hoseok would frown at that response. He hates when people associate him with his parents' wealth. I don't understand it."

"It's like when your family thinks you're incapable of working hard. People think he's incapable of working, too. In this case, associate him with his parents' money, and for you, they just think you won't make it out here alive because of your choices. You're both on the path of proving yourselves competent."

There's silence between the two of you, Jungkook deep in thought.

If Hoseok was on the same route as he was, why was Hoseok's approach entirely different? Why didn't he feel the same drive and motivation as Hoseok does, and why does it make him believe that there was another way to solve this issue? Instead of trying to make enough money to move out, he could just feed off of his parents' money and use it towards something else, earn money off of that and spend that newly collected money that was now truly his. Which brings to question, how can he hit two birds with one stone? Both introduce his parents to someone who was totally out of his league yet loved by them and demonstrate his ability to work?

Bingo. The answer is sitting right there in front of him. You.

You were a hard-working middle class citizen. From juggling two jobs to being a graduate at some University, you knew what it felt like to be poor. You hated people who bathed in wealth, especially when it's claimed to not be their own and stood for your beliefs. If Jungkook brought you home to present to his parents, they'd be so jubilant that he could imagine his stubborn, stone-cold face father doing cartwheels, mother's cheeks in pain from all the grinning, and brothers looking defeated, envied erroneously.

"Tell me a bit more about yourself, I feel like I don't really know you." There. If he studies you enough, maybe you'd be willing to jump in on his plan. After all, he still has to determine what he can offer you in this portion of his scheme to convince you to deceive his family, especially since you seemed to be fond of both Jungsik and his mother. "... Why are you suddenly interested?"

He shrugs. "I just wanna know. Where did you go to school, why did you choose a bakey, etcetera. If I'm going to be working with you, I should probably get to know you a bit better. Maybe I'll feel more inclined to cooperate." It was like in mere seconds, Jungkook wasn't intoxicated anymore— completely sober.

So you play his little game, it wouldn't hurt, right? "Got a scholarship to study abroad, so I was in New York for a couple years. Don’t get me wrong though, since it’s the US, it wasn’t a full scholarship, but I didn’t have any other opportunities that I wanted. Then graduated with a degree in Food Science. Then parents needed some money so I had to come back right after graduation and pick up a job at your mom's supermarket, paid off their debt and now I'm just trying to pay off mine. I also needed to put some sense to my degree and well... I loved baking in my free time. It was all I did when I was stressed from exams."

"You studied in New York?" If he wasn't sober a couple minutes ago, he was now.

You nod in response, finishing the last portion of pork that sits idly on your plate. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-two."

"But you started working at the market three years ago?" He asks, the space between his brows crinkle, trying to count the months in his head. He also takes note that he's older than you and that it'd come in handy later. "It doesn't make any sense."

"I finished high school early." The sizzle of the grill dies down, the ventilator shutting off from the lack of smoke. "I jumped a couple grades."

"A... couple grades. A couple grades, it doesn't sound like just 'a couple,' you literally graduated college at the age of what... fifteen?" He heaves, completely taken aback by this new information. "And then graduated college at eighteen? Yet you're working at a grocery store and some coffee shop when you could be running an entire company."

"Well, when you say it like that—"

"Okay, I have a proposition for you. Let's date." You nearly choke on the water you're drinking. "What?"

"Fake date, really. Be my fake girlfriend. You're a year younger than me, got a college degree at eighteen with attainable aspirations that I could cater to once my parents give me access to their money again. The entirety of this conversation is only giving me more reasons to invest in our relationship, to invest in you, and it'll benefit me in return." You squint your eyes at him suspiciously, but he continues. "My mom already likes you. Jungsik even thinks you're too good for me and that there's no way that you'd ever date me. If you actually did, imagine the look on his face!"

"Jungkook," You sigh, running your fingers through your loosen strands of hair. "I don't know. This seems wrong, lying to your family. They only want the best for you."

"Absolutely not. My brothers want to see me fail. If you agree to do this, I can show you what I'm talking about."

Hesitant, you nibble on the hardened dry skin on your lips, heart racing in uneasiness. "But you'd be giving up a lot. No more flings, no more getting wasted... you'd have to be completely serious and on board if you do this. It has to be convincing. But at the same time, how long and how are we going to keep this up?"

"Maybe until you get your shop up and running so that you're able to stabilize it yourself. I'm sure that wouldn't take long anyway, and it would be a great business deal if we go through with this. You'd be out of debt, starting your own bakery, all in a shorter span of time than intended. And all you have to do is come home with me to see my parents occasionally, attend some events, hold my hand, maybe exchange a couple kisses— but nothing out of your comfort zone though, I respect boundaries."

With how his hand gestures move, and how the ideas flow from his mind so effortlessly, you could've sworn that Jungkook was a con-artist. His words were a shell of plausibles and credibility— up to the point you had to tell yourself to stop and take a breather because all this material was starting to sound reasonable, and from your lack of experience with Jungkook, he wasn't the most reliable person you've met. "I'm going to have to think about this. As great as it sounds for me, it doesn't seem like much of a character development path for you."

"But it would," he asserts, putting emphasis in the way he speaks, "I'm investing in something I believe in. A business, one that I see potential in, in a person that I see potential in."

"Jungkook, you met me last week."

"Which is why it makes it even more impactful!" He exclaims, arms thrown in the air. "I know you hate me. But you have the qualities of what would help me get myself back into the estate. I'm not even sure if I'm written out of the will yet, and I'm praying that this whole 'changing' thing won't take so long that the idea is going to be thrown out the window."

"I really don't hate you, I just want people like you to be more aware of what's going on in the real world. They all view the lives of people like me through a sheer shower curtain with diamonds and pearls wrapped around their bodies, laughing away. It's like you don't see the problems we face everyday."

"And as much as I don't want to do that, let that be part of the deal. Get one 'ignorant' rich guy out of that stereotypical pool, and teach me how to be better. Then, I'll also be on the road to being a more... empathetic and educated man."

Puffing up your cheeks, you look away for a brief moment. “I still want some time to think about this.”

“That’s fine. But also, one more thing.” You turn your gaze to fixate back onto him. “Yeah?”

“Don’t eat alone if you don’t have to. Call me, I’ll keep you company.”

"... So I asked her to be my fake girlfriend." Jungkook ends the story of how your ‘fake love’ blossomed under the fluorescent lighting and smoke from the grill at a barbecue shack hidden in an alleyway.

Hoseok's jaw drops to the floor. "W-What?" He stutters, appalled by Jungkook's proposal for you. How could Jungkook just bring up an arrangement like that so effortlessly? Without even a second thought? "And what did she say?"

"That she needs to think about it a little more."

He sighs of relief, pushing his hair back through his fingers. "Good. Because she has a horrible history with guys. It always seems to go down in flames. I could only imagine what it means if she dated you."

"It's a fake relationship, what could possibly go wrong?"

"You might fall in love with her. Or worse, she'll fall in love with you. Literally every fanfic and romance movie trope that has to do with fake dating. Plus, imagine if she fell in love with you." He shivers at the thought.

“What’s wrong with me? Why are you making it sound like it’s the worst thing ever if she even so likes me like that? I don’t even think she’ll fall for me anyway. The mere thought of me seems to disgust her.”

Grabbing another box of cereal to restock, he rolls his eyes. "You really don’t get it, do you? It’s more like... you're not going to be serious about her if she did. You don't even know what it means to be in a committed relationship, let alone know how to handle a fake one. If she falls in love with you, she's done for. Then her guy streak really is horrible. You’re putting her in a tough spot, Jeon."

Tearing open another cardbox box full of inventory, Jungkook frowns in thought. What if you did fall in love with him? How would he go about that? Would he still invest in your business then? Taking a moment to let the ideas sink in, he’s already decided. "I'd still invest in her." He concludes. "Isn't that part of the journey? Learning how to be professional? If she falls in love with me, I'll give her space. But I still believe in her business and her goals to open one."

"But you don't even know her," Hoseok reminds him, stopping in the midst of his actions. "She really needs this. If you so much have any doubt of leaving this plan, she'll be devastated. Everything that she has worked hard for has to be halted because she trusts you. You can't play with people's lives like that."

"It's just a business," Jungkook clarifies, but Hoseok shakes his head in dismissal. "This is her life's work, Jeon. Have you even really talked to her about this? You need to either call this off or have a written contract or something because you're not only diminishing her love life, but her dreams too. So really think about this."

Jungkook slouches, body barely standing up against the shelves. “She still has time to decide. Trust me, Hobi, if she does fall in love with me, I’ll take care of her and make sure that she’ll still be able to have the business.” Hoseok eyes Jungkook in disbelief. “You found out she’s younger than you, didn’t you? I can already hear it in your tone. Don’t overlook the age, she’s still lightyears of experience ahead of both of us combined.”

unknown [6:22PM]: so, what’s the verdict? unknown [6:23PM]: my fault, it’s jungkook.

Letting out a large exhale, you shut your lids, phone in the palm of your hand after viewing the texts, allowing your body to fall against the wall behind you.

It’s another late shift at the coffee shop, one that ends around 2am before the cycle of waking up for an additional eight hours at the Jeon market. Although the bags and dark circles that begin to reside underneath your eyes are evidence to your exhaustion, gradually taking a toll on your body. The days were getting shorter, nights stretching longer, and you weren’t sure when your next day off would even be.

Then the thoughts of your loans come to mind. There was another email sent to your mailbox, reading that the next bill was approaching and due soon, causing the weight on your shoulders to inflate. If only the figurative load built your muscles because then you’d be able to pick up a job on a construction site, possibly making a bit more money than you do now with both jobs combined.

You glance at Jungkook’s text again.

The belief that you were independent goes out the window if you cave into Jungkook’s premise. You were practically selling your body at that point... but your personality was part of the package as well. Then there was the lying— you admit, being yourself around the Jeons was easy, but having to lie to them about dating Jungkook seemed... difficult. They were relatively smart people, what if they’re able to see right through your act? And what about Jungkook’s past? Would it continue to haunt you during the relationship?

For instance, what about the women he dated? Rephrase: slept with. There’s pretty much a guarantee that scandals would arise with the announcement that Jungkook was going steady with someone who wasn’t an aristocrat, a child of money. What about you stood out that Jungkook would fall for you to convince other people that you were good enough to be part of their world?

But you go back to your debt.

The biggest regret yet also your biggest accomplishment was going to college in New York.

The expansion of knowledge you were able to obtain during your years there was irreplaceable. If anything, really, it molded you to the person you are today. But at the same time, the debt was like a dark, rainy cloud that followed you around wherever you went.

Having to plan your every expense week by week was draining.

Declining meetings with friends because you couldn’t afford to pay for your portion of the meal, let alone for everyone else.

Jungsik offering to pay for dinner despite your inclination to decline and pay for yourself was a blessing. Veritably thankful that he didn’t take your ‘no’ as answer and left his credit card, if you were being completely honest, you wouldn’t have picked that location if you knew he wasn’t going to pay for it. It’s been a while since you were able to afford KBBQ.

You weren’t poor, no, or at least, you believed yourself not to be. Just... all your money seemed to go toward your debt and savings account for the bakery.

Feeling demoralized, you’re tempted to text Jungkook to let him know you’re surrendering, but he beats you to it.

unknown [6:30PM]: i just want to be able to help the both of us. you can lead the relationship, i’ll follow. i know how much your independence means to you, so... i’ll bottom. unknown [6:31PM]: be mine? you [6:31PM]: 🏳️ (white flag)

Sliding your phone back into the back pocket of your jeans, you make your way back behind the counter with two girls who studied at the university nearby, giggling and slapping each other’s arms elatedly. You’re slightly envious of their lighthearted laughter, wishing that you could do so freely without this heavy feeling in your chest, yet you push those feelings aside anyway, a smile tugging on the edges of your lips. “What are you two laughing about?”

“Jiwoo has a crush!” Injae exclaims, pushing the aforementioned girl to the side with a cackle. “She saw him working at the supermarket you worked at the other day and I swore I saw her staring at him in awe, a river of drool coming out of her mouth. Should’ve put a wet floor sign—“

“Injae!” Jiwoo whines, bottom lip jutting out. “Stop embarrassing me in front of Unnie. She probably thinks we’re immature.” Not really. You kind of wished you had a crush too. The butterflies in your stomach, hands palmy and cheeks flushed pink. Eagerness to see the person; each touched exchange making your heart race faster... “Who’s the guy?”

Injae glances over at you mischievously as you watch her prepare to get hit by Jiwoo. “Jeon Jungkook—” Slap slap slap. Injae’s arm is definitely going to be red tomorrow morning if not right now. But oh, Jungkook? The one you just agreed to date about 5 minutes ago over text?

“I think he has a girlfriend.” You respond uneasily, chewing on the nail of your thumb anxiously. “Who?”

“Hey,” The three of you turn to the customer, quickly straightening your postures and aprons until your eyes meet his, halting your breath. Jungkook has a knack for timing because there he stands, hair disheveled from probably rushing over, in a grey hoodie and baby blue jeans with tears at the knees. “What’s good here?” Yet his gaze doesn’t shift from you. Legs rooted into the ground, mouth parted in surprise, you finally shake yourself out of ice before clearing your throat. The girls seem to be just as stunned as you are because they haven’t moved an inch.

“Cold brew is my personal favorite. But if you want a safe option, americano is great too.” Logging into the iPad, you’re ready to tap in his order but grabs onto your wrist and you grimace. “Can we talk?”

“... You could just say that and not grab me, Jeon. Not everything has to be a K-Drama moment.” In all honesty, you were kind of embarrassed of the girls knowing your newly found relationship with Jungkook. He was definitely not your kind of guy, his brother Jungsik probably being closest to your ideal type and even the girls knew that.

Sitting by the window and across from Jungkook with your fingers tapping against the plastic cup with your cold brew inside, he continues to observe your face briefly while drinking a sip of the americano. You don’t even take a second to look at him, rather your attention is glued to the crescent moon out the window. “White flag? That’s all you can say?”

“How did you want me to respond?”

“Yes or no? Are you usually such a dry texter?” He rebuttals, prepared for anything you throw his way. He’s learning, you take note, because he usually just stands there dumbfounded whenever you’d shoot back with a response.

“Yes, it means yes, I surrender and I agree to your terms. We can date, I’ll be your girlfriend, you can be my boyfriend, blah blah.”

“Not my terms,” He says, rephrasing his text. “Your terms. You’re leading this relationship, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable just because I suggested the idea. I’m not a jackass, you know. I don’t even sleep with women who say no.”

“Are you supposed to get a ‘congrats’ or reward for that? Because that’s the bare minimum, Jeon.”

“You know what I mean,” He retorts back. “I respect women.”

“But lead them on and sleep with them even though you know that you don’t want a relationship with them but they want a relationship with you—“

“Now I have you.” Jungkook interrupts firmly. “I’m having a serious, committal relationship with you. No more of those girls anymore.” You nearly felt your heart swell out of your chest cavity but you remember that he’s just saying it to convince you to date him, despite the fact that you’ve already agreed to it.

“I don’t get where you’re going with this conversation. If you got the answer you wanted and expected to hear, I’m leaving. I’m still on the clock, you know.”

“Quit then.” You scoff at his swift resolution. He’s too impulsive. “I can’t just quit. I need the money.”

“I said I’d help you pay for those things, did you already forget? That’s what this arrangement is all about.”

Rolling your eyes, you stand from your seat, snatching your drink along with you. “In case you forgot, you don’t have the money yet. I agreed to be your girlfriend, happy?” He looks like a puppy with his round eyes peering through his shaggy hair, grin stretching from cheek to cheek. “I am. This means you have to let me do boyfriend things for you.”

“Fine.” You respond through your gritted teeth. Truth be told, you want him out of the café as soon as possible because the college kids behind the counter were starting to whisper. “But you still have to treat this professionally when we’re at work.”

“Deal, love.” His teeth are peeking from his excitement. You squint your eyes at him. “Jungkook.” You warn.

“You’re at work, I’m not.”

You’re going to strangle him.

Walking out of the supermarket after another long night shift, you’re stuck between Jungkook and Hoseok as they exchange stories of parties they previously attended, emitting a sigh from you.

“Tired of our old shenanigans, baby?” Jungkook teases, tugging on the sleeve of your jacket. Hoseok shoots Jungkook a glare. “You’re going to die tonight if you keep that up, man. She’s scary when she’s mad.”

“Oh please. She likes it when I play around.” The innocent smile on his face makes you want to punch it in. “No,” Hoseok says, pulling Jungkook over to his side and looping his arm with yours. “She’s hungry. Let’s go tame this beast.”

Jungkook just stares.

The three of you are at a 24 hour convenience store just outside his house, three bowls of ramen prepped at the table while you all sit on the stools provided. “What’s this? How was it made so fast?”

“It’s ramen, dumbass,” You hiss, breaking the wooden chopsticks that Jungkook watches in reverence. “It’s literally called instant ramen. You’ve never had it before?”

“I’ve had ramen in Japan.”

“Oh, dude, you’re going to be so disappointed when you have this then.” Hoseok laughs then winces when you kick his shin underneath the table. Gesturing the bowl and Jungkook to Hoseok, he frowns, tearing the paper wrapping off the chopsticks and hands to the younger male. “Do what she just did. Break it.”

“Break... this? Chopsticks? Who invented these?”

“Does it matter?” You chime in. “Just break it. Hurry up, we’re trying to show you how this works so we can eat. Why are you acting like an alien? You’ve seen chopsticks before.”

“Well, honestly, at the Jeon estate, we only use—“

“Fuck what you use at the Jeon estate. We’re at the...” Turning to look at the sign above the store, you point to the logo. “... KTH 24 CONVENIENCE. They’re telling us to quickly break our chopsticks so we can go nomnom.” Rapidly, he attempts to snap the chopsticks, only for it to crack unevenly and you stifle a laugh.

“... Good try,” Hoseok shakes his head, tearing the rest of the lid off of the bowl. “Maybe you’ll be better next time. You’re stuck with your screw up now, but least you can still enjoy your shitty bowl of ramen noodles.”

Jungkook swallows. The sight of the noodles floating in soup that looks painfully diluted with water, the aroma from the bowl was still alluring. Stirring the soup, he finally picks up a portion with his wonky chopsticks, blowing on it before taking a bite.

It’s... actually not bad.

“How is it?” Your voice is calmer and much more soothing than it had been a minute ago, but he makes the assumption that it’s because you’ve finally gotten food in your stomach. He takes note of this for future reference. “Oddly enough, not bad. I kind of like it.”

“Well, get used to it. It’s cheap and efficient. You’re part of the broke squad now, Jungkook.”

Broke Squad. Feels nice to be part of something.

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts #bts smut #bts fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #gyukultfics

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creativeashproductions · 3 years

Text

We Wouldn’t Be Us // Charlie Gillespie

IN WHICH: We get a look into the timeline of the reader and Charlie’s relationship from the first date that wasn’t so perfect to the news they get. The relationship has its ups and downs like all relationships do but this one brings the birth of a song. They know in their relationship that anything less just wouldn’t be them

Warnings: Swearing, an argument, allusion to sex (NO SMUT), pure fluff

Words: 3.1k

A/N: I suppose this is an entry for @cherrymaybank’s Valentine’s Day Fic Challenge.

Based on the song We Wouldn’t Be Us by Alexandra Kay

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Masterlist

Every dress didn’t seem to fit properly no matter what mirror with different light in your apartment you tried. The spare bathroom’s bulb was dying, so that made the colour appear off, and the best mirror was dirty, which would dampen the romantic goal. Nothing made you feel that oomph that you desired for this date.

You could wear the standby little black dress of which you had two options, the clubbing one or the work appropriate one. It didn’t seem right to choose a standard black and no colour for this insanely sweet guy that had this insane energy. With that thought in mind, you dug deeper in your closet for that special dress that you’d never found someone worthy of it. It was your best dress and your most expensive with the tags still on. You would have gone for the maroon dress but it was Valentine’s Day and that seemed like over kill.

Somehow it still fit perfectly despite the length of time from purchase, it was a vibrant green satin with lace matching the colour. The dress's satin ended just below the knee with the matching lace falling an additional six inches past. The A-line skirt was loose flowing contrasting to the form-fitting material across your bust and midsection.

One of your favourite parts of the dress was the off-shoulder bateau neckline that gave a tasteful sneak of your cleavage. The bottom of the thick straps came to make a perfectly straight horizontal line. Across your waist was a one-inch wide satin ribbon attached to the dress that formed a perfect bow that tied the outfit together, no pun intended.

“Whoa.” You breathed stepping in front of the floor-length mirror kept in the spare bedroom, it had once been your roommates’ room before she moved.

You had to admit the dress was magical with it, bringing out all your curves and went with your skin tone. It was a pure shock to see how you managed to make the dress come to life with just a makeup look that was easy to do. All you did next was your favourite beige heels that went with everything. You had just slid on the left heel when the buzzer sounded and slid the right on as you hit the button unlocking the apartment building door.

“This is going to be perfect.” You breathed leaning into the mirror beside the front door. You inspected your lipstick as a knock sounded on the dark brown wood of your door.

“You look gorgeous.” Your date breathed, widening those colour changing irises as he took in your outfit, “You take my breath away. Happy Valentine’s Day”

Your cheeks flushed, “Thank you, Charlie.”

He stepped into the apartment as you quickly went to the kitchen to grab your coat and purse with your essentials. He had gently retrieved the coat from your arms to help you into the cold jacket.

“I know traditionally I would have brought you flowers, but I also know you love books.” Charlie breathed grasping the items in his hands, “So I got these flowers.”

His warm hands held three books. The top one was The Orchid House by Lucinda Riley with a cover that had the background blurry with only the back of a girl in clarity. The girl’s pink dress matching the flower in the upper corner of the book. The next cover proudly displayed The Rose Garden by Susanna Kearsley with red flowers growing down on a stone building. The third one was a light pink book with an anatomically correct heart with flowers growing out of the arteries, veins and valves; a collection of poetry I Saw You As a Flower by Ellen Everett. Lastly, you held Rupi Kaur’s second collection of poetry The Sun and her Flowers that had come out a couple years ago.

“Charlie, this is so thoughtful. You even has a rose one!” You breathlessly spoke gently touching the covers, “Thank you so much for these.”

“I thought we could read them together?” Charlie was bashful as he quietly asked with flushed cheeks. He didn’t know why he felt like this was his very first date all over again.

“I’d love that.” You softly told the Canadian with the manners a mother would be jealous to have in her home. Charlie’s fingers linked with yours as he tugged you out of the apartment into the hallway.

Your hands swung during the short walk from the apartment building to his bright orange Subaru across the street. The sound of the light wind rustling the trees lining the sidewalk mixed with the humming from Charlie was a perfect film score. He was the ideal gentleman even before he asked you out.

You couldn’t wait to tell your close loved ones about Charlie. You could really see this going somewhere. The relationship that is, as you were now on the side of a road with the Subaru’s hazard lights flashing.

“I forgot to fill the tank.” Charlie moaned, pressing his forehead against the steering wheel. His eyes clenched just as tight as his fists.

The Canadian was so embarrassed to have had what he thought was the best date of his life. He’d played music from the playlist he had patiently curated specifically for this date, and he held your hand to the restaurant. He’d already made plans for another date when his car’s warning beeped.

In Charlie’s haste, he’d forgotten to fuel up his car, so here he was with the prettiest person he’d ever seen in his passenger seat. His confidence in a second date had greatly diminished.

“Char, you said Owen was on his way. There isn’t anyone else I’d prefer to be stranded with. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“I wanted this date to go perfect. This is my first Valentine’s Day with someone.” Charlie admitted turning his head to stare into warm pools of your e/y colours. His eyes scanned the soft smile that appeared on your face as his confession, “I had this whole thing planned out, and now you definitely won’t want a second-”

“I’m gonna kiss you. If you don’t want that, let me know.” You murmured before pulling him in for what would be the best kiss of your life thus far.

Sure his car broke down, but you kissed him anyway. He tasted of the complimentary chocolate dessert from dinner.

A Year Later

A young, admittedly broke couple sat on the cold floor of the unpacked kitchen eating SpaghettiOs. You had only just moved into the studio apartment with Charlie that had drained most of your savings. Had it not been in a decently safe area in the city and a close commute you would have said no.

But it was the perfect starting place for you two as you both were unfamiliar with living with an SO. It sucked on each of your ends to not have a better situation, Charlie wanted nothing more than to spoil you on the first day living together. Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible but sitting on the floor with a cheap candle was imperfectly perfect.

“I’m sorry we’re eating out of cans.” Charlie whispered pointedly, keeping his eyes on the spoon, stirring the red sauce with the beige circles.

“Char this is perfect. As long as it’s you and I then anything is perfect. Besides we didn’t label the boxes, I have no idea which box has our kitchenware.” You admitted glancing at the boxes boarding the edge of the room.

You ate out of cans for at least a week before you had unpacked the kitchen and had the means to buy actual groceries. Living together thus far had been going super smooth until wasn’t.

It was a bad day on both your parts, your entire work was deleted after a computer glitch. Charlie had auditioned for a role he had been really really wanting since he heard about it. Your father came down with the flu axing the plans to meet for dinner; it would have been the first time in six months you saw him in person.

The apartment's atmosphere had been rising and very volatile by mid-afternoon when Charlie blatantly forgot a deal. If he was going to play music, it had to be in the study so you could focus on your work.

Today he’d decided to be in close vicinity to have a virtual jam session with both Owen and Jeremy. He’d chosen the room you were in solely because it had the best wifi reception which you needed as well.

“Charlie, please can you go to the study? I’m trying to finish this!” You cried out as he struck a chord on the electric. His eyebrows came other in the glare he sent you, “I lost all my work last night.”

“The guys and I are working on songs-”

“-Charlie, this is due tonight. I can’t concentrate with-”

“It’s not my fault you have a shitty attention span!” Charlie angrily snapped contradicting the gentle touch on his guitar. He placed it back on the stand to not accidentally damage it, “The wifi is best in this room.”

“I’m very much aware of that Charlie. Out of the two of us, I use it the most. Can you please either move to the study or at least wait an hour so I can finish?” You pleaded with the Canadian actor ignoring the two guys on the computer silently waiting for the fight to be over.

“Why can't you mov-”

“Fine. I will.” You fully stared down your boyfriend for a full five seconds before you harshly closed the top of your computer. It took seconds to gather your work stuff into the leather satchel you stored the computer in, “You didn’t even mute the call.”

Charlie watched as you swiftly pulled on your jacket, “Babe-”

The sound of the door slamming shut cut his sentence before he even had a chance to speak his thoughts. The apartment was eerily silent compared to the sounds of music that always played through the Bluetooth speaker.

The inspiration to play evaporated with the aftermath of a stupid argument permeated the apartment typically filled with love. All three actors quietly said their goodbyes before they ended the video call.

You spent an hour uncomfortably sitting in a cafe finishing up what you’d needed to finish with the argument replaying. Your finger barely hit the button to send the email before you had already stepped outside the business. You spent the walk struggling to draft a text to your boyfriend.

It didn’t matter because when you walked into the apartment, you heard the soft song you’d both deemed yours. It was cheesy, but that was part of Charlie’s charm. Speaking of your boyfriend, he was sat on the floor of your kitchen with matching mugs of brownies.

“I’m sorry. I was insensitive.” Charlie started as soon as your jacket was draped over one of the kitchen chairs. His usually wide smile was as bashful as the one he’d worn on the night of your first date.

“No I’m sorry, Charlie. I could have easily put on my headphones or moved to the bedroom for a bit. The fight was stupid, and I love you so much that sometimes I think I take you for granted. I mean, look at you! You made the brownie cups-”

“Even sitting on the cold floor like when we moved in.” Charlie cheekily inserted, reaching over to hold your hands in his, “I like our tradition. I definitely like how we upgraded from SpaghettiOs to brownies.”

“Me too.” You breathed leaning over to press a lingering kiss on his lips. His hands delving into your hair to keep you close.

The butterflies stormed your stomach as the heat slowly inflated from your toes until it reached your flushing cheeks. Raw emotion pouring into the passionate kiss that only closed down as you broke for air. But you also went back in as that warmth slowly built in your tummies. Charlie’s eyes marginally opened to ensure he wasn’t imagining the Angel he got to kiss.

Finally, with heavy breathing, you pulled apart, but only a fleeting moment froze the time in the apartment. For, as soon as Charlie caught your dilated pupils, his one hand cupped the back of your hand, fingers tangled in your h/c tresses.

Soon enough, you were making up on the kitchen floor with each article of clothing tossed in the vicinity. A shirt landed on the kitchen sink spout. The brownie mugs forgotten as you gave into the passion with your boyfriend. Your lovemaking had you missing supper.

Charlie’s solution was a trip to the local authentic English pub founded by a nice guy from London. You never failed to stop him for a dance in the empty street as his smooth voice gave music for smooth motions. Dancing was a common thing from pulling off the road in Dieppe to dance. You drank and danced at the pub until Jack cut you off at 2am as his pub rules had.

You and Charlie just laughed in a love bubble as the real-world worries faded because you always came together in the rough times.

Months later you returned to Dieppe with Charlie to spend the holidays with them. The entire family together creating such a welcoming atmosphere.

“I’m gonna grab a glass of water.” You informed the group of gals ad non-binary pals who had gathered in Meghan’s bedroom. The group had decided to sleep over Meg’s childhood room with face masks, nail polish and lovely wine.

Meg and Jeannette both nodded to acknowledge your announcement before they returned to their respective conversations. You took a moment to take in the great group of Gillespie and Co you had the honour to be part of. The thirst was only temporarily forgotten in the happy bubble you found yourself in.

You practically skipped to the kitchen, barely noticing the two people in the living room, but their words stopped you in your tracks. Your boyfriend, Charlie Gillespie, stood close to his older brothers Ryan, Patrick and Michael.

“I’m gonna ask her to marry-” Charlie caught himself from finishing the sentence when he saw you standing pale-faced at the opening into the living room.

His entire body was encapsulated by the lights casting in the living room from the Christmas tree. The tree couldn’t hold a candle to the ring of your dreams that promptly had you bursting into tears.

“I RUINED THE SURPRISE!” You sobbed dropping your face into your cold hands, avoiding the gaze of the Gillespie brothers. Had you not been hiding in your hands you would have known the older three had vacated the room.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Charlie cooed with the ring safely put away in the box he had shoved back in his pocket, “You didn’t ruin the surprise. I shouldn’t have been telling my brothers in the middle of the living room.”

Charlie’s warm hands slowly pulled your hands from your soft post-mask skin with such a pretty healthy glow. He could see the remnants of the mask on the edge of your scalp, but it didn’t take away from your beauty.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, staring up at him from underneath your eyelashes. The soft hazel eyes not upset in the least, things often didn’t go the way you wanted to together.

Take the first date from over two years ago where you and Charlie had waited for Owen to meet you with a jug of gas. You’d shared childhood stories and future dreams. Or the time you hadn’t marked the boxes creating an entire week of eating out of cans and cartons.

Ruining the proposal was almost expected at this rate.

“I knew from the moment I saw you in that emerald dress I knew that you were the One for me. I’ve adored each moment I’ve gotten with you from the spontaneous dances on the side of the road. To bursting into song in the middle of the street.” Charlie shakily started with sweating bands but an open heart, “When your best friend told me the emerald dress was the special one, it melted my heart.”

“Charlie.”

“Other than my belief that this relationship will last, I was only ever sure of one thing in my life. I was sure I would be an actor, but now I’m more sure that my favourite role will be supporting you, loving you and evolving with you as your husband.” Charlie sniffled, taking one hand from yours to wipe the tears flooding his cheeks, “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” You breathed lunging on your tiptoes to kiss him with as much passion as you could. Your hands caressed the skin of his cheeks; his long tresses tickling your wrists.

“God I love you.” Charlie gushed with a gentle shake of his head. His hazel pinned to your e/c eyes as if you were the most precious gem in the world.

A voice cut the bubble enveloping you, “Well are you gonna put the ring on her finger or what?”

Charlie’s head moved to meet the teary eyes of his mother surrounded by his siblings as they bounced on their feet. You laughed as your now fiance clumsily rushed to slide the absolutely gorgeous ring on your finger.

“Welcome to the family officially.” Jeannette cheered along with the celebratory whistles and yells as the crowd of the family grew more and more. Soon enough, the entire room was overflowing with people congratulating your new engagement.

Months later, you stood in front of that same group holding the hands of your handsome fiance. Both dressed to the nines in front of the officiant.

“I wasn’t looking for a fairytale, because they all end the same. The princess has a conflict that she revolves with the help of the prince. They get married and live happily ever after. I adore how we’re writing our own story that fits our relationship. Charlie Gillespie, I wouldn’t change a thing about our lives. I wouldn’t have it any other way even with the fighting and slamming doors, but we always end up on our kitchen floor making up with two brownies in mugs.” Your vows brought tears among the onlookers along with the Canadian barely keeping it together.

The vows would later be eloquently transformed into lyrics from you with the accompanying melody provided by Charlie. On Valentine’s Day, you played the song on the kitchen floor with a plate of brownies. Three brownies waiting to be devoured.

“Three for each of us.” You wept as you watched as Charlie melted into a puddle of joyful tears. He took no time in placing his hand over your flat stomach.

Yeah, you wouldn’t have it any other way. Especially when Valentine’s Day become more to the Gillespie family; a new little love taking up the day.

(Reader’s Dress In Beginning)

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#charlie gillespie imagines #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie x reader #luke patterson imagines #jatp fanfic #charlie gillespie #luke patterson #charlie gillespie imagine #caitsy and ash productions #CherryValentinesFic

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makebank · 3 years

Text

secrets & suds

request: long request but to summarize jj is involved with a kook but hasn’t moved past hooking up, he gets in trouble for pope sinking the boat, and she decides to help out.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: mentions of smut but none, cussing, typos, angst, fluff

He presses a quick kiss to your cheek as he throws his shirt over his disheveled head. His skin is slightly damp and glistening and some of his tufts of hair plastered to his forehead. “Gotta bounce, see you tomorrow?”

You beam at the blond from across the room and send him a smirk, “You always do”. He rushes out of your house just before dawn. JJ was always good about making sure to leave before your parents woke up, specifically your dad. You never minded the class division, but it was easy to say from your spot on the kook throne. You take a moment to regain your breath then toss yourself back onto your silky king size bed. Your satin pajama set lay wrinkled off the side of your bed, you knew he was going to love ripping off the matching outfit as soon as he saw you.

For some time now you and JJ have had a little arrangement. And by arrangement that meant he came over most nights to fool around. Sometimes you’d get him to watch a movie or cuddle, but it was always interrupted by your parents waking up or his friends texting him for something. You weren’t exactly sure when you started to fall for the troublemaker, but it came with ease. He seemed so rough and mysterious, which is what amplified your want for him in the first place. But after closer observation, he is kind, gentle, and would do anything for you. Of course you knew it would never happen. He is too caught up in the division and himself to even want anything more than this. Not that you don’t love the time you get with him, but you crave more.

You sigh as you stand up wrapping yourself in your fluffy robe. Peering out of your bedroom window, you watch JJ sprint across your lawn and expertly hop the high gate.

Alternating between mindlessly scrolling through your phone and checking out your window, you grow impatient. JJ had never missed coming over without texting. You were worried something happened or maybe he was just bored of you. It was getting late, so you send a single text hoping he was okay and try to lull yourself to sleep.

The next morning you wake up and for a moment your fears weren’t there. Slowly blinking your eyes open, it all comes back to you. You reach for your phone hoping for some relief. To your dismay no new messages were from him. You jump out of bed and rush to take a quick shower. Some slight snooping wouldn’t hurt.

You definitely weren’t close with any of JJ’s friends, but you did know where to find them. You enter the Wreck looking overwhelming overdressed in your designer shoes and this season’s newest sundress. You find a vacant booth and make yourself cozy until a curly haired girl you recognize as one of his best friends comes to get your drink order. After she introduces herself, it clicks. Kiara right you had a class with her freshman year of high school. Hm small world. She comes back with your coffee and asks what you’d like to order.

“Have you seen JJ lately?” you awkwardly ask. She shoots you a confused look before settling into a glare. “What’s it to you?” You stumble on your words, “Oh… nothing. He just normally mows our lawn on Wednesday mornings, but he didn’t show up. Just thought I’d ask”. She seems semi satisfied with your answer and doesn’t press for more detail. “Well, he’s busy. Not that it’s any of your business anyway. So do you want something to eat or not?” You weren’t sure why she was being so hostile it's not like you two ever had any direct problems. Maybe she was just being protective of her friend. You weren’t going to take it to heart.

You slump down in your seat resigning to the fact you weren’t going to get any answers from her. “No, I think I’m good with just this. Thanks”. She huffs whatever and walks away. Just as you're about to leave you see a frantic boy rush up to the counter to Kiara. You knew it was Pope from the pictures JJ has shown you. He looks like he’s on the verge of meltdown.

“I can’t believe JJ covered for me. Ten thousand dollars is a lot of money. I feel so bad! What do I do?” He’s running a mile a minute and Kiara tells him to lower his voice. She brings him into the back room to comfort him away from eavesdropping ears. However, you heard it all and can’t comprehend what happened that he would owe that much money. Nonetheless, you conclude that you’re going to find a way to help him, wherever he is. You drop a couple twenties leaving a hefty tip and rush out of the restaurant.

Walking down the street you bump into the three bozos that rule your side of the island. They ogle you and shout their vulgar ‘compliments’ at you. You scoff but are well accustomed to their barbarian-like nature. As you strut away, you overhear Rafe yelling at Topper. “Dude, get over the boat! You won’t even hit on y/n with us. That Maybank kid will have to pay one way or another”. What was with today and perfect timing? You thought you were going to have to dig a little deeper.

You walk home to think of a plan. You had lots of money, but your parents would notice if you took that big of a chunk out without something nice to show in return. There was no way you could get that much, but you could find a way to get fifty percent. That would be enough to get the authorities off his back and give you time to talk down the Thorton’s. You decide you could easily sneak a couple thousand without your parents noticing, but you were going to have to figure out a way to come up with the rest.

It dawns on you after spending all your childhood watching teen rom coms. A car wash! Everyone was always searching for one after a storm. Plus, it wouldn’t take much but a simple tweet and an instagram story to have people lining the block. You immediately text the girls’ group chat to set the plan for tomorrow.

You wake up with a spring in your step ready to put your plan into action. You frown a little knowing it was another day with no word from JJ. You hope he’s safe and just taking time to himself.

Putting on your skimpiest bikini and shorts you gawk at yourself in the mirror. It’s not like you had a problem with showing yourself off, you just knew the attention you were in for today regardless. You were doing this for JJ though, you wanted to help him out and show him there’s a lot more to you than having money and pretending to be perfect.

You greet all your friends and start setting up. As cars start to line up, you can’t help but giggle to yourself thinking of the stereotypical ‘Cherry Pie’ or “Milkshakes’ playing in the background of every car wash scene. You get to work flirting and scrubbing cars as you all work for every dollar. The nice thing about Figure 8 was that they were willing to spend whatever. Just as you were about to head to another car you hear someone shouting your name.

You whip around to see a red faced and furious JJ. “You’re alive!” You try to lighten the tension. “What the hell are you doing y/n?” You frown in confusion. “What do you mean? A car wash?” He doesn’t seem satisfied with your sarcasm. “You're half naked out here and all these guys can’t keep their hands to themselves,” he remarks annoyed while flailing his arms. You grin for a moment realizing he’s jealous, then it dawns on you, “First of all, you just disappeared off the face of the earth for days. No text or anything. Second, since when you do you care about what other guys say to me?” He crosses his arms over his body clearly irritated by your logical retort. “It’s none of your business. And I don’t care”. All the energy drains from you at the impact of his words. “Fine. Then keep not caring and leave me alone.” You swivel around stalking off to another car leaving him alone. Even if he didn’t want you, you were determined to finish your job and then move on.

You turn over your shoulder to see JJ storming off in the other direction. Your heart aches at seeing him actually leave. At least you knew he was breathing now. The next car pulls up with Pope in it. “What was that all about?” Your eyes widen at one of his friends catching you. He chuckles, “It’s okay I know about you guys. He tells me everything”. You soften knowing you weren’t a complete secret. “I’m not sure. He’s upset with me though.” He sends you an empathetic smile, “Don’t worry. He’s dealing with a lot right now. He’ll cool down eventually.” You nod your head, “Yeah, I heard about that. That’s actually what this is all for,” you admit sheepishly. Pope’s eyebrows raise with confusion. “My mom had me bring the car, because she said it was raising money for the high school”. Yikes. “That’s my bad. I kinda said it was for whatever people would listen to, so people would come”. He laughs, “Quick thinking y/l/n. You want some help?” Now it's your turn to laugh. “I’m sure we could find you some short shorts somewhere.” He parks the car off to the side and grabs a sponge to contribute.

The rest of the day goes by with a breeze while joking with Pope and the girls. The last car drives off and you all plop on the curb for a break. You dry off your hands and start counting the money. You could almost cry happy tears. You raised over four thousand dollars. You thank everyone and promise to buy them mimosas at brunch tomorrow. For spoiled rich kids, they sure knew how to help someone in need. Pope pulls you into a side hug, “Thanks for doing this for him”. You smile squeezing him back, “thanks for helping”.

After putting on some real clothes you stalk off to the Thorton’s. They promise they’ll leave JJ alone about the couple thousand left so it can be paid off slowly, now that they have a down payment for another boat. You breathed a sigh of relief knowing you did all you could.

JJ was relaxing at John B.'s when he got a call. After hanging up, he’s elated and full of energy. He yells to the pogues, “Guys they said I don’t have to serve any time for the boat!” They all jump up excited and ask how. “They said over half of the debt has been paid, so they said I’ll have to sign up for some payment plan. But this means it won’t be on my record or anything”. They all join him in a group hug congratulating him. John B. pipes up, “Who paid it?” JJ stops for a moment considering that it wasn’t just magic, and the only person he knew that had money that knew was Kie. “Did you have your parents do it Kie? I seriously can’t thank you enough,” he picks her up into a giant hug. She shakes her head once he lets her down. “No, I wish I could’ve though. Sorry man.”

Pope is smirking thinking about his day yesterday trying not to blow his cover. JJ notices. “What do you know, Pope?” He just shakes his head not budging. JJ throws his arm around his neck putting him into a choke hold wrestling move. Kie and John B. are enjoying watching them fight until Pope taps out. “Fine! It was y/n. That’s what the whole giant parade of cars getting washed was”. JJ freezes speechless. He turns on his heels and instantly busts out of the chateau.

Meanwhile, you’re getting into comfy clothes preparing yourself for a lonely movie marathon tonight. Just as you settle into your thousand thread count sheets, your door swings open making you jump. “JJ you scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?” He crosses your abnormally large room beelining to you. He grabs your chin and pulls you into a kiss. Your hand naturally falls to his arm as you allow him to passionately lead your lips. You pull away gasping for air. “What was that for?”

He sits down next to you. “I am so sorry. I’m sorry for disappearing and not texting you. And I’m really sorry for being such a dick yesterday at the car wash. I didn’t know you were doing all that for me. Either way though I shouldn’t have acted like that. Thank you for what you did. It means a lot. I’ll repay you I promise”. You smile rubbing your thumb against his hand. “I forgive you. You don’t need to repay me, we worked for it. You were right though, it wasn’t my business”. He shakes his head, “I wasn’t right. I like you a lot. I’m stupid for not saying it before. I just didn’t know how to tell you about all my issues and thought I’d scare you off.”

You lean over kissing him on his cheek to soothe his obvious tension. “You can’t scare me off. And I really like you too. You can trust me with your secrets, but I’ll try not to meddle anymore if you don’t want to tell me.” Grabbing your arms to scoot you closer, he brings you in for another long and deep kiss. “Don’t worry. You can know all my secrets now,” he winks as he pulls his shirt off easing you back onto the bed.

taglist in reblog, join in my bio

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fic #outerbanks #obx #des writing #rudy pankow #jj maybank x y/n

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theleftovertaco · 3 years

Text

The Boys in Lingerie

OK FIRST EVEN VAGUELY SMUTTISH POST

Basic warnings in order please don’t interact if you don’t want to see this. Use basic judgement. You know if you’re too young to read something

Once again, I try to keep it house, gender, and year neutral so anyone can fill in the blanks where they wish, guys, gals, and nonbinary pals alike

We have standard lineup- Fred, George, Draco, Neville, Harry, Ron, Oliver, Cedric, and now Charlie and Blaise have been added!

ON TO THE FEMBOYS IN LINGERIE

Fred

You and Fred had messed around before with kinks and lingerie

He always liked how it looked on you, how the lace hugged you perfectly

Freddie is a very forthright person, if he wants to try something he will tell you in advance, and so he talks to you about him wearing some

You agree immediately and the two of you find a magazine to order some because there is no shop that sells that in Hogsmeade, unfortunately

He finds a pair of pink panties and chooses those because of course he does and when the box arrives (he has to avoid George’s questions about what's in the box)

He puts them on and then sends you a notes asking you to come to his room while no one else is there

And when you find him

“Baby boy, you look amazing.” He smirks and spins in a circle before leaping on the bed, you following close after

George

George wandered into a strange shop in muggle London when you and him were exploring during Christmas break

He found a sex shop where they sold a lot of lingerie and before he got yelled at by the shop owner to “get out, you tosser!”

He couldn’t get the lingerie out of his head

He didn’t think about you wearing it, well maybe a little. No he actually thought more about the cloth on his own body

So about a couple weeks after seeing those and getting back to school he plucked up the courage to ask you (he was a Gryffindor, dammit, he shouldn’t be scared)

“How would you feel if I... wanted to wear panties?” “Sure, love, sounds good if that’s what you want.” “Wait, that’s it?” “Yea.” “Ok good, cause I kinda already ordered them.”

He darts into the restroom to put them on and then comes out to show you and holy fuck

He’s in this pale blue pair of flower lace bikini panties and walks out looking just a little timid and you fucking jump him

Draco

Draco saw a pair of Pansy’s underwear during a game of strip poker and while most of the other guys were ogling her, he was thinking about how the silk would feel on him

He buys a pair, but then they just sit at the bottom of his trunk for about a month and a half

Then he wears them once or twice around the common room under his trousers before he even thinks of telling you

He writes you a note during History of Magic (its not like Binns will notice anyways): “Can you come to my dorm after classes today? I want to show you something.”

So you go thinking its gonna be some gift his mum sent again but you enter the dorm and see him in a pair of silk black panties

“Honey, you look fantastic!”

You may or may not have torn them off of him

He may or may not have had to buy another 10 pairs

Neville

Neville sees a girl in a thong in one of his dormmates old magazines and he just gets a little spooked

Because his immediate thought isn’t about you in them

It’s about him in them

So he panics

Slowly but surely, as your relationship progresses he gets a little more bold, in general, since you make his confidence skyrocket when you’re around him

So he wears them around during the day and when he pulls you into a empty classroom you’re a little scared about what he’s gonna do because of the timid look on his face

But he pulls down his trousers to show the pastel yellow thong he’s wearing and he slips on his old cat ears

You let out an audible groan

“Kitten, you look beautiful.”

He blushes and looks down in embarrassment just a little

“Nuh-Uh, don’t you dare look embarrassed kitten, come here.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Harry

You and Harry had a very honest relationship

He is a rather frank person and is not afraid to tell you want he wants in a relationship, but of course, you know that right out of the gate

Plus after the heels debacle, he knew never to try and hide what he wanted to wear from you

So when he discovers your collection of lingerie, he straight up asks you if he can try them on

“You sure?” “Yes please.” “Yeah ok go ahead, sunshine.”

He grins and snatches his favorite pair, a red set of satin underwear that barely cover anything

“You ready love?” “Of course sunshine, come on out!”

He steps out and you are speechless to say the least

He looks amazing and you pretty much drag him over to sit on your lap while you kiss him

So now he wears panties all the damn time because why not

If he likes it and he’s confident wearing them, you’re all for it

Ron

Ron is still a bit wary about wearing lingerie

He’s been wearing more stereotypically feminine clothes, but wearing panties is a whole other game to him

But you suggested it, and he was willing to try

It takes him a bit to warm up to the idea of lingerie

Ron has you walk him through it, what would be comfortable, what wouldn’t be, and he settles on a pair of black satin ones “They’ll be comfortable, promise!” “If you’re sure...”

You do a trial run where he just kind of lounges around the common room wearing them underneath his normal clothes

By the end of the day he’s hooked on it and you are too

He likes the softness of them

Ron has always felt like he had to be strong, and measure up to his brothers masculinity, but when he’s in the lingerie, he feels like he doesn’t have to conform to that

Anyways yes he likes the panties

Oliver

Oliver saw a pair on you once under your sweatpants when you were cuddling

“Oh, what are these?” “My panties???” “They’re pretty... do they make them for guys?”

Bro was straightforward

So you buy him a pair “I trust your judgement love, buy whatever you want!”

So he ends up with a pair of red silk ones that feel amazing

He wears them whenever possible

About a week after he starts wearing them, Angelina somehow finds out and the Gryffindor quidditch team dares him to ride on the broom in only his panties

So he tries it... before immediately slipping off and falling on his ass

“Stupid fabric.”

He manages to stay on the second time, and well, now you have a few candid shots of your boyfriend riding a broom in lingerie

Not that you’re complaining

Cedric

I need to stop calling Cedric Pretty boy, but does that mean i will? no

Pretty boy loves you in lingerie

The fabrics are always so pretty

And he has never been shy about this, so he just asks you if he can try on a pair of yours

“Yeah, of course pretty boy go ahead.” he kisses you on the cheek and runs off to find a pair

He puts on a pale yellow satin pair of briefs

And walks back into your dorm

“Fuck, pretty boy!” “You like it?” “Baby, I adore it!”

Cedric begins wearing them around campus

He likes how his thighs look in them, and soon he starts wearing them under his skirts

If he bends over, you can see it pretty easily, he knows exactly what he’s doing

He tries to rile you up

Fucking tease

Charlie

Charlie is a very muscular person

It isn’t that he doesn’t like traditionally feminine stuff, he just never thought he had the build for it

It takes a while for him to change his mind, since contrary to popular belief, he is actually pretty insecure

“Don’t you think I’d look strange in them, stocky kid in girls underwear?” “Well, it’s not just for girls, and no you would not! I happen to think that you would look beautiful!”

He likes that word. Beautiful

People have always described him as handsome, cute, but never beautiful

So he agrees

Maybe it’s something about wizarding Romania that’s more accepting but when the lady at the shop you go to sees that the panties are more fit for Charlie, she winks at the two of you and says to “have fun with those”

So he puts them on and holy shit

He understands it now

He feels beautiful

Blaise

Blaise likes being pretty lets be real

He doesn’t really give a flying fuck what people think of him

So he jumps on panties real quick

Finds the prettiest pair of emerald panties he can find and he loves them almost immediately

He likes putting on a short skirt and makeup on to top off his whole vibe because why not

Another thing about Blaise is that he is a fucking flirt

With everyone, not just you

And while you trust that he would never cheat on you or betray you, if he gets a little too flirty with anyone else, all you have to do is creep your hand up to the satin undergarment and give it a little tug to remind him who he belongs to

You, bitch, it’s you

Ok that’s it for now idk what I’m doing next so if you want me to write something please send me an ask. Also I rarely write suggestive/smut fics if you know ways that I can make this better please for the love of god let me know.

This feels like a good time to say that this is the final set of characters. I have 10 right now, and if I keep accepting more people I’ll just end up doing 20 characters every time. I love doing these but I don’t have the time or energy to do every single character, it just would not be good for my mental health. That being said, if you want a specific headcanon of a specific character, please SEND ME AN ASK so I know that you want that directly. I would be more than happy to write it for you.

305 notes · View notes

hyuniebaby · 3 years

Text

Summer Love

Pairings: Chanyeol x Y/N

Song reference/inspiration: August by Taylor Swift

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

A/N: So I've been listening to Taylor Swift a lot these days and I literally just found out about The Teenage Love Triangle thing in her Folklore album. It gave me inspiration to write this. 😄 It's been a while since I wrote for EXO so here's my first EXO fanfic for 2021! I hope I did Taylor Swift's song justice. Please let me know your thoughts~

You could hear the loud music playing at the club from a block away. You really didn’t plan on going out at all, too tired from your shift at the yogurt shop that you worked part time at. But your friends were insistent.

“God, I need a break,” you messaged your friends, ranting about how work was tiring. If there was one thing you learned about your work, it was that people come flooding in at the shop for frozen yogurt every summer. You couldn’t blame them for it, of course. The heat was unbearable, people would buy anything cold to beat the heat.

“Then let’s go to the club tonight!” Krystal messaged back.

You groaned. You should’ve expected she was going to say that. But the “break” you meant was more of “needing more time to rest” than a “I need a fucking drink.”

You were about to explain to her that you weren’t in the mood to drink but the rest of your friends had already agreed with her. You closed the group chat and massaged your head.

You knew your friends like the back of your hand so you expected them to give you reasons why you should go clubbing with them. Hell, they would probably even make a powerpoint presentation to convince you. And you have to ready yourself for that level of extra, hence, the head massage.

But your friends knew you the same way you knew them so when you didn’t reply after two minutes, they came to the conclusion that you didn’t want to go. You were, after all, the person who always replied instantly — whenever, wherever. Even at work, that’s why they have your schedule so they can avoid messaging you during your shifts.

By the third minute of silence, yes, you counted , a series of messages flooded your phone. As expected, their messages were reasons why you should go to the club with them. One, it was summer so there’s no school work to catch up on. Two, you don’t have work the next day so there’s no need to worry about getting a hangover. Three, alcohol, that’s enough explanation.

You snorted at that.

They listed plenty more reasons but the one that convinced you was that you haven’t seen them in a while since summer break started. So without reading more of their reasons, you replied with a simple, “Ugh, fine.”

When you entered the club, you immediately scanned the area to look for your group of friends. But instead of finding them, your breath hitched as your eyes locked with someone else. He was tall and gorgeous. And hot. Yeah, definitely hot. You shamelessly ogle at his form. From his silver locks to the chain necklaces he was adorned with to the thin white sleeveless shirt he was wearing that was tucked in his denim pants. It was like he wasn’t even trying with his style yet he looked tempting.

And if there’s one known fact about you, it was that you lacked self control.

If you knew you’d find a guy like him that night, you would’ve worn the short black dress you owned or your favorite red satin dress, instead of the gold mini dress you were wearing.

There was nothing really wrong about the dress you’re wearing. It fits you like a glove and it shows a generous amount of skin, but it screams sophistication and elegance. Something that was the opposite of you, but you liked to play pretend sometimes.

But still, red and black were the sexiest colors. Both sexually alluring — arousing, even. And those were what you needed him to see, to feel.

By the time you had shifted your eyes to look back up his handsome face, you saw that his eyes were still traveling over your body.

Okay, maybe gold was fine.

Before anything else could happen, however, Krystal, Lia, and Rose had tackled you in a hug. You wanted to roll your eyes at them. Talk about perfect timing. They started chattering off about how they missed you, oblivious to your encounter with the man.

Before they could whisk you off to the table they claimed, you stole another glance at the hot stranger. His eyes were still on you and you couldn’t stop the small smirk that crept into your face.

Your friends shared stories about what happened to them since summer break started, meanwhile you ranted about your work and how hectic it had been. As the conversation continued, alcohol came and went. Overall, it was fun hanging out with your over-the-top friends.

Every now and then you look at the hot stranger. You were tempted to just get up and go directly to him and just kiss him but not now when he was finally graced with the presence of his friend. Not now when your friends were still there with you.

Not yet.

When your friends got borderline drunk, they stood up and went to the dance floor. You knew then that they weren’t going to come back.

They were always like that when they got a hold of the liquid courage. By the time they’d dance off, they would find a man to spend the night with and not bother to say goodbye. And then the next thing you’ll know, they’ll be updating you on the group chat about how their night went. That’s what always happens every time you all go out clubbing so you were quite used to it.

You waved them off as they made their way to the dance floor. You downed another drink and found yourself looking over at the location of the hot stranger once again.

You watched as his friend got up and left him when he saw your friends heading to the dance floor. He’s probably interested in one of them. Or all of them. You didn’t know. You didn’t care.

Despite the distance, you could almost hear the sigh of relief your hot stranger released. Yes, you claimed him already. When he lost sight of his friend on the crowded dance floor, he immediately snapped his head to your direction. You smirked as he did so.

You made your way towards him. You could tell he was entranced with your body. The lust was written all over his face.

“Hey, stranger,” you greeted as you sat beside him. Your dress had hitched up and you didn’t bother adjusting it. Why would you when he was eyeing your legs like that? Like he’s one breath away to opening them up.

Once he’s gotten his fill on the sight of your legs, his eyes once again traveled the entirety of your body before settling his eyes on your face.

If only it wasn’t indecent to take him then and there, ugh.

“Chanyeol,” he introduced himself as he placed a kiss on your hand.

You hummed and told him your name, “So Chanyeol, I noticed you looked a little bit bored a while ago,” then you leaned in and whispered to his ear, “don’t you want to do something fun?”

He tilted his head so that his lips touched your neck when he talked and then placed his hand on your thigh, “My place is just around the corner,” was his answer.

He gave your leg a little squeeze before offering his hand to help you stand up.

The next thing you knew, he was fervently kissing you after he shut the door to his room. He tasted like cigarettes but also something sweet that you just can’t name. But the taste doesn’t really matter to you, what matters was how he was using his lips. And, god, was he good at using his lips.

His hands wandered around your body while yours trailed over his toned chest and abs. He grabbed your butt and slammed you to the door, bringing his erection closer to your pussy.

You instinctively rubbed against him, moaning at the much needed friction. He brought his lips to your neck and nibbled your sensitive skin.

Then he slipped his hand under your skirt, feeling your damp panties.

“Please Chanyeol,” you moaned.

“Please what?”

“Please touch me.”

“Are you sure?”

You huffed but said, “Never have I ever been so sure.”

He moved your panties to the side and slid a finger in you. “You’re so wet, babe,” he said as he pumped his finger in and out of you.

“Chanyeol, hng, more.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He added another finger while you cursed at how good it felt. He was leaving kisses all over your neck, you were pretty sure you’d be painted with reds and purples by the end of the night.

You were in a daze but you weren’t just going to let him do all the work. Your hands quickly went on to undo his belt and his pants. You freed his hard shaft from the offensive garment and gave it a few strokes. Then you spit on your palm and finally gave the attention his cock deserved.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” he mewled.

You went back to kissing him after his statement. It was like there was an unspoken agreement between the two of you — both of you wanted to get on the bed — so he carried you there, never once pulling away from the kiss.

As your bum touches his mattress, he immediately strips himself of his clothes while you shimmied out of your dress.

You were able to remove only your dress when he locked his lips with you once again. He laid you down on the bed, his left hand groping your breast.

When he pulled back, he took his time in scanning your body. You bit your lip to prevent a whine from the sudden lack of contact.

“You’re so sexy, babe. I want to fuck you so badly.”

“Then do it, Chanyeol.” You looked up at him.

The sight was something to behold. Chanyeol on top of you, naked — his skin glistening with sweat, and the light makes him look perfect. His muscles were flexing as he breathed. The sight increased your arousal by tenfold.

You rubbed your cunt to his shaft to grab his attention since he was back to ogling your body. The action snapped him out of his trance and he quickly unhooked your bra and removed your panties, throwing them somewhere in the room. He took your right nipple in his mouth and sucked while he squeezed your left boob. On reflex, you arched your back as he gave attention to your breasts. He shifted between your two mounds. You moaned in delight from the sensation.

Once he was satisfied with his work, he abruptly inserted two fingers to your core. You cried at the sudden intrusion. He expertly fingered you. You closed your eyes and relished on the way he was making you feel.

You felt him shift but he didn’t stop the onslaught to your cunt so you paid no attention to this. You released a whimper when all of a sudden he slipped his fingers out of you. You peeked at him, ready to scold him because he pulled out just when you were about to cum. But what greeted you was the view of Chanyeol putting on a condom.

“Sorry babe, I couldn’t wait anymore. I need to be inside you,” he said, not a hint of regret in his tone.

You gulped as you saw his big, veiny cock. “I’m going to fuck you so hard,” he promised.

Then he shoved his dick to your pussy. “You’re so fucking tight.”

You grit your teeth, he was big and you felt so full. He waited a while for you to adjust to his size when he bottomed out.

“Fuck me, Chanyeol,” you begged.

The moment the words slipped out of your mouth, he obliged and pounded into you. His thrusts were so powerful that you couldn’t help but moan and gasp. He shifted a little, the position let him adjust his pace to a much faster one.

Lewd, sinful noises came out of your mouth as he fucked you hard, fulfilling his promise. “Who’s making you feel this good?” He asked cockily.

“Y-you are,” you stuttered.

“Say my name.”

“Cha-Chanyeol. Fuck. You make m-me feel so g-good Chanyeol.”

He was driving you to your climax so fast from his ministrations. You were clenching on his cock the closer you got to your release. His hand found its way to your clit and he rubbed it.

You spasmed as you reached your high. Chanyeol was quick to follow after a few harsh thrusts. After he came, he stood up to throw the used condom and grabbed a wet towel to clean you up. He was so gentle at doing it and you found yourself closing your eyes at how relaxing it was. The tiredness from work and the sex caught up with you. You didn’t even intend to sleep yet, but when you closed your eyes, nothing stopped you from falling asleep.

Chanyeol was nice enough not to kick you out after the sexual encounter. You thank the gods above that you woke up before Chanyeol did, because you knew it would be too awkward if he woke up before you. This was supposed to be a one night stand after all.

You slowly got out of bed, careful not to wake Chanyeol from his slumber. You quickly put on your clothes, well, as fast as your aching body could anyway. You tiptoed out of his room and left.

There wasn’t any need to write a note for him or whatever. Sure, the sex was good, amazing even, but you know nothing about him aside from his name and address. He could be a completely different person when he’s sober, you’ll never really know.

But fate had other plans for the two of you.

It was a week after that event that you saw Chanyeol again. You were driving home, taking in the view of the city. He was walking slowly, seemingly lost in thought, under the streetlights two blocks away from the yogurt shop you worked at.

You debated on whether or not to call him. He looked quite distant and lonely. If you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings, you wouldn’t have thought that it was Chanyeol.

This Chanyeol looked the opposite of the Chanyeol you met at the club. There wasn’t any trace of cockiness. Even the smile you saw that he easily gave away to his friend was gone.

As if your body has a mind of its own, you found yourself pulling up and rolling down the window, “Chanyeol!”

He whipped his head to look at you, shocked. It kind of seemed like he saw a ghost. You chuckled.

“Get in, let’s drive!”

Normally, you wouldn’t be doing this. Chanyeol was a stranger after all, but oddly, he did feel familiar.

He looked reluctant but eventually he gave in. The car ride was quiet. You didn’t mind though, you like the silence so you didn’t attempt to break it.

Initially, you didn’t have any destination in mind, you were just driving aimlessly. You thought you were making random turns but then you realized you were going to the quieter parts of the city and into the location you’d always go to when you were feeling blue. It was fitting, Chanyeol did look like a darker shade of blue after all and no, you weren’t talking about his physical appearance.

You stopped your car by the cliff overlooking the city. There, everything looked small and less overwhelming. When you were there, it always made you feel like your problems were trivial things and it calmed you down.

You stepped out of the car, sat on the hood and watched as the sun set. The sun was giving the busy city a golden glow.

After a few minutes, Chanyeol got out of the car as well and sat beside you, taking in the view of the city. For the first time since you picked him up, a genuine smile had made its way into his face.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, never taking his sight away from the beautiful view.

You looked over at him, his features looked like he was relaxed. His blue faded and changed into a warm yellow. He looked better like that.

“Yeah, no problem.”

The both of you stayed there until the sky had turned black and it was the city lights’ turn to shine.

“Come on, Chanyeol, let’s head back.”

“Right.”

You were a block away from Chanyeol’s flat when he spoke up again. “Sorry I took up your time.”

“It’s fine. I didn’t have anything to do anyway,” you said nonchalantly.

By the time you reached his place, you turned to him, “So—”

You didn’t even get to finish whatever you were about to say when he cupped your face and kissed you. You were surprised but you kissed back anyway. And just like the first time you met him, you ended up tangled in his sheets, begging him to fuck you.

The third time you met him it was probably the hottest day of summer. You were in the mall to cool down. You’d rather be there than use the air conditioner in your room and take extra shifts to pay for the electricity.

You were wandering inside the mall, just looking through different shops and avoiding any crowded area in general.

“What are you doing?”

You got startled at the sudden sound.

“Chanyeol? What the fuck, I almost dropped this mug because of you!” You exclaimed.

He chuckled, “Sorry. It’s just that I noticed you looked a little bored.”

Oh, so he was using your lines now. You raised your brow and crossed your arms, waiting for what he’s going to say next. But the action only emphasized your breasts and of course Chanyeol just had to look.

“Don’t you want to do something fun?”

You smirked, “Only if it doesn’t involve sweating.”

“I can work with that.”

And work with that he did. You ended up being bent over under the shower as he fucked you relentlessly.

The only difference with this encounter from the rest was the piece of paper you found in the pocket of your shorts. Scribbled there was his number and a simple “Thank you.”

You didn’t even hesitate to message him as soon as you found it. He replied in an instant and surprisingly, he was pretty decent to talk with. You don’t talk about the nights of passion, but you do talk about yourselves.

For the first time since you met him, he was shedding his layers, and this time, these layers weren’t his clothes.

The next time you met up, it was intentional. One day he called, “Meet me behind the mall.” He didn’t have to ask twice, you’d go regardless.

By the time he arrived, he was riding a motorcycle. He shook his head as he removed his helmet. Then he ruffled his silver hair.

God, he was attractive.

“Hop in, babe,” he said as he hands you another helmet.

You grinned. It was your first time to ride a motorcycle and you couldn’t stop your excitement from showing.

He drove to an abandoned parking lot and for a moment you were confused. “What are we doing here?”

“Don’t you want to do something fun?” He smirked.

Your eyes widened. You definitely didn’t want to do that here.

He only laughed at your reaction. “I’m kidding! I mean, technically, I’m not.”

Your brows had furrowed. “Huh?”

“I’ll teach you how to ride this baby,” he said as he patted his motorcycle, “It’ll be fun.”

You squealed. “Really?”

He rolled his eyes but he had a faint smile, “Yeah.”

Chanyeol was a great teacher, but you liked to tease him so you purposely acted like you couldn’t understand him. You could tell his patience was wearing thin after two hours of him teaching you to no fruition.

“Okay, okay, let me try. Like, alone now,” you said.

He frowned, obviously unimpressed with your statement. Of course, he’d react that way, it was his baby, you just might crash it.

“I promise I’ll do my best,” you pleaded.

“Fine,” he reluctantly said.

“Thank you!”

You grinned at him as you got ready while he only pouted. But the pout had been replaced with a look of surprise when you finally rode and drove his bike.

And by the end of the day, his motorcycle wasn’t the only thing you got to ride.

The next few times you met up, you always ended up beneath him. But there were also days when he’d take you out — to a diner that was barely visited by people, to an arcade somewhere downtown, to the cliff overlooking the city.

Dates with Chanyeol were fun and weren’t overwhelming at all. He never brought you to places with too many crowds. It was intimate, the moments were shared between only the two of you.

It got to a point where you basically spent everyday with him. You would even cancel plans with your friends, just waiting for his call. Before you knew it, you were falling for him.

What sealed your feelings was the time he brought you to their beach house where you both spent the day swimming and chasing each other around.

“I want you,” he said as the night came.

Wanting was enough for you.

By the time you were both panting after the sexual activity, he turned his back to you and looked out the window, his facial expression as calm as the sea. You thought you had him then. You thought he was yours and you were his.

That is until you saw him at a record shop. You were there first, scanning through sections, looking for the 5 Seconds of Summer CD you wanted to purchase for so long. You paid no attention to your surroundings, too busy with your task.

And then you heard Chanyeol’s name being mentioned by a guy. Curiously, you hid behind a shelf and peeked. Chanyeol was there and you unconsciously smiled at the sight of him.

“Chanyeol, dude, be honest, are you seeing Y/N?”

Chanyeol looked confused. “Who’s Y/N?”

Your heart dropped at his answer.

“Don’t act so clueless.”

“I don’t know any Y/N.” He looked genuinely at a loss.

“Inez told me she saw you and Y/N at the arcade a couple of weeks ago. Did you even break up with your girlfriend?”

Your vision was already blurry when he said he didn’t know you but you tensed up at his friend’s question.

Chanyeol has a girlfriend?

You didn’t bother staying there to listen in to their conversation anymore. Your tears had already started falling so you quickly rushed out of the shop, keeping your head down low.

There were a lot of thoughts running through your mind.

“Chanyeol didn’t know my name… Is that why he only called me babe or kitten?”

“Chanyeol has a girlfriend and he cheated on her with me.”

“Was his girlfriend the reason why he only brought you out to secluded areas? Meeting only behind the mall? Driving to the quieter parts of the city to hang out?”

You were so frustrated at him and at yourself. You let him charm you. You let him worm his way into your heart. You let him make you fall in love.

So much for summer love.

#chanyeol x reader #chanyeol x you #chanyeol smut #chanyeol angst #chanyeol fluff #chanyeol fanfic #chanyeol fanfiction #exo smut #exo angst #exo fluff #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #park chanyeol #exo chanyeol

206 notes · View notes

star-spangledstud · 3 years

Text

SELF-DEFENSE

Request: Um can I request something with steeb🥺🥺👉👈 Maybe him teaching a reader to fight or drive or work out! Thank you❤❤ @donutloverxo

Pairing: Steve Rogers x (female!) reader

Warnings: smut (18+), PIV, lil bit of slapping, nothing crazy.

Word Count: 3062.

Note: Thank you for the request. Sorry it’s taken me so long, I’ve been afk from Tumblr for a while. Hope you still like it!

It’s entirely too early in the morning when your phone rings. Shrill, high tones jolt you out of peaceful slumber. The sound forces you to open your eyes, brain ripped from the dream you were having but already can no longer remember.

With a groan, you roll over in bed, body tangled in pink satin sheets that you’ve managed to wrap entirely around yourself during the night. Blindly, you reach for your phone. Your hand slaps across the wooden nightstand next to your bed until you finally feel the vibrating device cramped between your stiff fingers.

Ready to curse at whoever dares to call you at this ungodly hour, you don’t bother looking at the screen to see who’s calling you. A single swipe and the phone is pressed up against your ear, breath coming out through your nose in short bursts of annoyance while you purse your lips in preparation for what’s to come.

“Good morning, peach,” you hear on the other end of the line.

Your breath hitches in your throat, and you instantly swallow the curses you were ready to spit at the caller down. A smile you didn’t know you were capable of this early in the morning blossoms on your face instead, anger long forgotten by the time you manage to form a coherent reply.

“Good morning, stud,” you say with a raspy voice, followed by a soft, sleepy chuckle.

“Did I wake you up?” he asks, a hint of amusement in his tone when he hears you yawn on his end of the line.

“Nah. I always get up at,” you look at your alarm clock, “five in the morning.”

“I’m sorry peachy,” he doesn’t mean it; If it were up to him, you’d never sleep, “I just wanted to hear my girl’s beautiful voice.”

With cheeks heating up quickly, you smooth out the soft fabric of your red nightgown. Buying it was, of course, Natasha’s idea. It’s not really your style, but somehow, she managed to convince you it is.

“How was your run?” you ask as you lay back down on the bed and take a moment to stretch your limbs.

“Wet,” he’s grinning, you can tell, “it’s raining.”

“It always rains in New York, big guy. You leaving tonight?”

The silence on the other end of the line confirms it; Steve leaves for another mission tonight. You’re used to it by now, but worrying about his safety sucks nonetheless, and a lump forms in your throat at the thought of missing him again.

“I was going to ask you what time you get off work. I want to see you before I leave.”

“One, I think.. two if it’s busy. Why?”

Steve sighs and shifts in his chair, “you know I don’t want you walking home alone at night.”

“Steve, I’ll be fine. I do it all the time. I’ve lived here my whole life, remember? I’m no stranger to this city.”

“I know you have, but I feel better if I walk you home. I’ll send an agent to pick you up. I have to go now, gotta get ready. I’ll call you tonight to make sure you’re home safe.”

Before he has a chance to hang up the phone, you interject, “you could teach me self-defense.”

It’s silent on the other end. For a brief moment, all you can hear is Steve’s quiet breathing and the clinking of coffee cups in the sink. You’ve suggested a self-defense class to him before, but the reply is always the same.

“We’ll talk about it when I get back, okay? Be safe, peach. I’ll call you.”

“Fine,” you sigh, “if you don’t wanna teach me, then guess I’ll just sign up somewhere in the city.”

“Don’t say that,” he groans audibly, “you know why I don’t want to teach you these things.”

“Steve, you can’t stay by my side every minute of every day. I don’t expect that from you. Nobody does. If something happens while you’re away, I need to be able to defend myself, and let’s face it, nobody is better at this than you.”

“I know,” he admits finally, “I just don’t want you to get involved in any of this stuff.”

“I’m not. I just want to be able to protect myself. Promise you’ll think about it?”

“Okay,” he says finally, “I promise I’ll consider it.”

Two weeks pass after that phone call. Steve gets back from his mission with only a few scrapes and cuts, but all of them heal before he’s even had a chance to see you. He’s glad because he knows you hate seeing him hurt, and you worry too much about him as is.

The sound of distant thunder outside the walls that currently surround you alerts you that Thor is in town again. Still, the raging storm outside isn’t the reason why you’re shaking in your boots.

You tug on the sleeves of your t-shirt and straighten the hem, wondering for a moment if you should’ve picked something more... baggy. In this giant room, you feel very exposed. The gym is a lot bigger than you thought it would be. Granted, you’ve never had a reason to come down here before, but knowing Steve spends so much of his spare time here makes you feel only a little bit at ease.

Steve watches you standing next to the shoulder press machine with your arms crossed when he enters the gym, duffel bag slung over his broad shoulders. He’s carrying two bottles of icy cold water in his hands; one for himself and one for you. He smiles when he sees you’re wearing the Tiffany’s necklace he got you for your birthday, and he can’t help but think you look adorable in your pink t-shirt and ruby work-out leggings.

“Hey peach,” he greets you with a small peck on your lips, “you ready for this?”

You nod and smile gently to assure him, but he can tell you’re nervous. A pang of guilt hits him deep in the chest when he eyes you carefully, afraid he’s pushed you too far this time. It’s one thing to expect his civilian girlfriend of one year to wait for him while he’s out kicking ass for sometimes months at a time. Still, it’s another to immerse you into the lifestyle, much less teach you fighting techniques.

“Born ready, stud,” you respond, sending him a playful wink.

He takes some time to go over general self-defense rules. He tells you to watch your feet, be aware of your attacker’s arms, and to keep your fists as close to your face as possible at all times. He touches your bare skin when he adjusts your posture a few times, and each time his heart twitches because the thought alone of you fighting off a mugger nearly has him losing his fucking mind.

He’s careful with you when you spar for the first time. Even though he would have absolutely no trouble sending you flying to the mat with only one hand, his touches are feather-light and soft. He allows you to hit him a few times, but he can tell he’s not the only one holding back. Steve wants to take it slow, but the sensical part of his brain knows he can’t teach you anything if he doesn’t apply any brute force.

“Peach,” he breathes after taking a break to think, “I need you to hit me.”

“What?” you gulp and bite your lip, doe-eyes widening when Steve places his hands on his hips.

“Is this how you’re going to fend off an attacker? By swatting their hands away from you? By pouting your pretty lips and batting your eyelashes?”

“N..no, but,” you stammer, “I don’t..”

“Come on then,” he urges you to step forward, “take a swing at me. Take me down if you can.”

You take a deep breath, mustering all the courage you have to swing back your fist. Before it connects with Steve’s jaw, he blocks it, twisting your arm behind your back until you’re facing away from him.

The sensical part of your brain quickly realizes you’re never going to win a fair fight, not against Captain America. Then again, you muse, he never told you you can’t fight dirty.

You think quickly, taking only a few seconds to concoct a plan that would make even Natasha proud if she saw it unfold before her eyes. Steve’s already tense, you can tell by how his jaw is clenched tight, and his grip on your arm is firm.

“That all you got, peach?”

He breathes down your neck, causing goosebumps to rise along your heated skin. In a desperate attempt to prove him wrong, you hook your leg under his and bend forward, trying your hardest to pull him down to the ground. Your ponytail flies in his face, allowing him to take in the scent of your shampoo while his rough, calloused palms find their way around your waist to steady you on the mat. Suddenly, you can feel it, pressing up against your lower back. You smirk for a split second, afraid he might see and realize what you’re trying to do, before pursing your lips again into a thin line.

Steve momentarily forgets what he’s doing when he feels you arch your back. His mind trails off, away from the objective of staying upright in position. You turn your head slightly sideways, hot breath fanning against his exposed neck in another attempt to distract him.

You sigh audibly when Steve’s lips press firmly against your throat, lips parting when the feeling of Steve’s muscles pressed tightly against your back becomes a sensation you’re both hyper-aware of. His t-shirt is thin. You can feel every ripple of muscle underneath the tight fabric that is stretched so thin you wonder how the fuck it hasn’t ripped.

The hammering of his heart and the rapid rise and fall of his chest causes your own heartbeat to speed up. In a final attempt to take him out, you once again shove him, sending all your weight into his trembling body. With a loud grunt, Steve loses his balance. His grip on your hips tightens when he allows himself to fall down onto the mat, taking you down with him in the process. The two of you wrestle for a moment. Still, Steve finds himself on top of you before you can protest, left hand tightly gripping both of your wrists while the other gently brushes a strand of loose hair from your forehead.

He leans down, lips ghosting your collar bones and neck before settling on your earlobe. You turn your head, but Steve grabs your chin with his free hand. Your entire body tenses up when his voice coats your skin in more goosebumps, and you wiggle against his iron grip when he whispers in your ear.

“Do you think this is fair?” he mutters, “wearing these tight leggings in front of me. You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

Your pupils dilate, eyes darkening at the deliciously deep grumble in his voice.

“No,” you lie, “I swear.”

He’s needy. You can tell by the way he’s subconsciously grinding his hips into yours. You can feel every inch of his cock through his sweatpants through the thin material of your leggings, and the sheer size of it nearly sends you over the edge then and there.

Steve roughly kisses your lips. Teeth and tongues mash together harshly for the first time in over two weeks. He doesn’t usually kiss you like this. Still, you welcome it, lifting your head off the mat instead into a bruising competition of lips.

Your eyes glance towards the door, and you push against Steve’s heaving chest. He’s already grabbing for the hem of your t-shirt, warm fingers grazing your bare skin when you build up the courage to stop him.

“Wait,” you say, pulling away just as Steve’s hand glides underneath your top, “here?”

“I’m gonna take you right here, peach,” he says while groping your left breast and fondling with your nipple, “right on this mat.”

“What if someone comes in?” you ask, back arching when Steve’s lips once again latch onto your neck.

The warm, wet sensation of his mouth against the most delicate spot on your bare neck has your mind drawing a blank. Suddenly, you can’t remember why you even questioned him. Who the fuck cares if someone walks in, anyway?

“Fuck it,” you reply to your own question, “want you, Steve.”

His hand releases your wrists, allowing you to reach down to the hem of your top. You rip it over your head in one swift motion and toss it next to you, followed by your sports bra. Your tits spring free, bounce in his face. The moment the fabric lifts over your head, Steve’s mouth is on your already tweaked nipple, licking and sucking it how you like it best while you wiggle your way out of your leggings.

“Leave them on,” he orders, grabbing hold of the smooth fabric before you can pull them down all the way.

With your leggings and dampened panties stuck around your knees, your movement is limited. You struggle to open your legs when Steve’s fingers run along your wet folds and groan in frustration when he dips two fingers into your throbbing pussy.

You yelp when he takes his fingers out again and softly slaps your cunt twice with the palm of his hand. He takes his fingers and pushes them into your mouth, chest swelling when he realizes he doesn’t have to tell you to suck on them because you do it instantly.

Three fingers disappear into your pussy now, coated in your saliva and sweet, delicious juices.

“You’re so wet already,” he comments before claiming your mouth with his again so he can taste you on your own tongue, “tell me what you want.”

“I want,” you gasp when he curls his stroking fingers, “your dick inside of me, Steve.”

Your fingers grab at his sweatpants. You yank down the soft, grey material that separates his flesh from you until it falls past his hips and under his toned ass. Steve’s cock, fiery red at the tip and hard like granite, springs free from its confinement and twitches when you allow your fingertips to graze its entire length slowly up and down. Steve bites his lip and holds his tongue to stop himself from cursing, but a small fuck escapes his throat when you fist his dick and guide the tip to your entrance.

“Put it in,” he commands through clenched teeth.

You don’t waste time giving Steve what he desires. After quickly wetting his cock with your slick, you plunge it inside of yourself with a fiery need. A sinful moan escapes your pink, swollen lips, and Steve presses another hard kiss to your open mouth when your hands grab hold of his ass.

He thrusts slowly at first to get your walls stretched nicely around him. No matter how many times the two of you have sex, it always feels like the first time, tight and warm, and oh so delicious. His dick pulsates when he picks up the speed, relishing in the feeling of your fingernails digging painfully into the plump skin of his perfectly round ass.

“You like that, peach?” he locks his hand around your throat, “like it when I fuck you like this?”

“Y-yes,” you manage when he begins to squeeze, “feels so good, Steve.”

“Anyone can walk in and see you like this,” he moans, “you like that, don’t you?”

You arch your back into his chest, eyes screwing shut at the feeling of his weight nearly crushing you. When he reaches down to rub your clit, you almost lose your fucking mind, and he has to bury his head between your tits to stop himself from cumming before you do.

Your bodies are beginning to stick together. The scent of sex is now heavy in the air. If anyone enters the gym looking for a late-night run, they’ll find something they can never unsee—the unmistakable thrill of getting caught red-handed drives both of you nearly over the edge. However, at this point, neither of you can stop if that were to happen. Nothing exists except for the sound of rough breathing, explicit moaning, and skin slapping against skin.

Every sense in Steve’s body is on high alert. He can feel it every time your walls flutter around his aching cock. You can feel it too. His weight on top of you feels amazing. The soft, blonde hair that grazes your neck while his tongue swirls around your nipple feels even better. The sheen of sweat that drips from his chest onto you, you want nothing more. You never want this feeling to end.

“You gonna cum for me, peachy?” he mumbles against your bare skin.

You whine at the knowledge it will end because you feel the coil inside of your underbelly is close to snapping. His thrusts become sloppier, less consistent, and it feels as if he does deeper and deeper with every snap of his hips. There are marks on his ass from where your nails dug into the delicate skin, but it’ll heal quickly.

Your cheeks are red with heat when you cum, lips deliciously parted, and eliciting the most beautiful moans Steve has ever heard. Your entire body vibrates when the orgasm flows through you, breasts glistening with sweat as they bounce while Steve fucks you through it. He fucks you, continues to fuck you until his own orgasm rips through him. Hot spurts of cum cover your insides, and he nearly collapses on top of you, barely careful enough not to actually crush you with his bodyweight.

He stays inside of you for a moment while both of you catch your breath. After he pulls out, he hoists his sweatpants back up over his hips. He kisses you softly while he pulls up your leggings. They snap against your skin when they reach your waist, and he grabs your hand to pull you up off the floor. His cum is still inside of you, dripping into your underwear when you take his hand and follow him out of the gym.

It’s fine, you think, I’ll learn self-defense some other time.

329 notes · View notes

ppersonna · 4 years

Text

kiss it better - ksj | m

been waiting on that sunshine boy, i think i need that back. can't do it like that. no one else gonna get it like that. - kiss it better, rihanna

↳ summary- your best friend Kim Seokjin makes you an offer you can’t refuse

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 3.7k

↳ pairing- seokjin x reader

↳ genre- smut, comedy, fluff

↳ warnings- oral sex (f receiving), fingering, finger sucking, dirty talk, daddy kink, jin making really bad jokes at bad times.

↳ a/n- well hello there! i hope you enjoy this! this fic is a collab with @kookiesjoonies all about bad hookups being saved by BTS. make sure you check out her yoongi fic HERE! i hope you enjoy this little piece! i love the visual of jin....well.... you get the idea HNNNGGG *vibrates in thot*. feel free to message me, send me an ask, comment, throw a rock at me, whatever u wanna do i wanna engage w/ UUUUU. LOVE YOU ALL! -lindy

If you had to pinpoint a moment where it all started, where everything changed, it was the night you came home after another bad hook up left you nearly crying in your shared 2 bedroom apartment.

Jin found you pouring an excessive amount of wine into a mug, on the verge of tears.

“Terrible date?” Your roommate asks as he leans against the door of the kitchen and motions with his head towards the gallon of alcohol you’re about to drink like it’s coffee.

“You can fucking say that again,” you grumble. You will not cry—you’re forcing that mantra through your brain at whiplash speeds.

“Jeez, how bad could it have been to make you wanna pound a keg of wine?” He jokes. Your eyes level with his and he can see you’re not in the mood for comedy. Another time, he supposes.

“Men,” you laugh with mirth. “You and your stupid fucking dicks and no brains and all you care about is getting off.” You’re fuming with anger, which given the situation is probably more than what is called for but you’re sure if the next hook up you manage doesn’t care to get you off, you will go absolutely wild.

“I’m still not grasping what’s wrong here,” he folds his arms over his chest and relaxes against the wood. You’re clutching the wine glass—mug—but still not drinking it.

“I haven’t gotten off!” You exclaim with enough gusto that some wine spills out. Jin rushes towards you and grabs a rag. He knows you’re lethal in the kitchen. Sticky for days.

“You haven’t gotten off? Like they don’t make you cum?” He asks as he wipes up the harsh red liquid on the counter. Your eyes watch his hands and for a second, a split second, you admire the tendons and veins moving under his skin as he cleans up your mess.

“Exactly. It’s a one and done, get out of my bed sort of thing,” you huff. “I’m not asking to be cuddled or whatever. But can’t a girl at least get some oral?”

Jin stifles a laugh and wrings the rag out in the sink. “How long has it been since someone made you cum?”

A wave of shame courses over you, but you’re not sure why. Jin’s someone you trust. It’s not like he thinks any less of you for fucking guys who don’t have a shred of decency.

“I mean, I can make myself cum every night in my room,” Jin’s ears turn a slight shade of pink at this and you’re suddenly curious. “But with a guy? Fuck, probably a year. Looks like I pick the real winners.”

He’s silent, and it makes you feel nervous. You can’t explain it—or rather you refuse to accept what you’ve been avoiding for a while. That your eyes linger on your roommate’s form as he exits the shower with a towel around his waist, the broad expanse of his bare shoulders with water still running down his back. The way he pushes his hair back when he’s tired. That you’ve had more than one night of slipping your hands down your body with the image of him in mind.

It feels wrong. It feels dirty to think of your best friend in such a way. And yet, it thrills you even more.

“I hope you don’t—... feel like I’m sleazy or something,” you murmur, buried in your newfound self-consciousness.

He smiles up at you and leans over the counter, resting his head on his hands and watches you curiously.

“I could make you cum,” he offers. It sounds like he’s offering to run errands for you, buy your lunch when you forget your wallet.

It’s so simple that you’re stunned into silence. Your brain skids to a halt to process what just escaped the mouth of your longtime best friend, roommate, confidant.

He chuckles as he watches the gears try to turn in your mind. “I’ve been told I’m great at oral. Not to brag. Just what I’ve heard.” The smirk on his lips definitely tells you he means to brag.

“You want--... to eat me out?” You ask incredulously. He’s still staring at you like it’s no big deal, just another everyday event. Best friends getting each other off. You wash the dishes, he dries, then he’s buried tongue deep in your cunt? Is that how it works?

“You seem really upset, and as your friend, if I have the tools to fix it, why would I hold back?” He postulates. You can’t help but agree with his theory. Your heart is thumping soundly in your chest. Is it just a friendly thing? Is he offering out of the goodness of his heart or is there something more? Are you willing to let your pussy win out and get the pleasure at the sake of getting your heart broken?

It doesn’t take long to decide.

Fuck yes you are.

“Okay,” you agree. “Are we going to fuck too?” You ask as you wash your hands of any remaining wine. You haven’t drunk a sip and you still feel tipsy and lightheaded.

“Do you want to fuck?” He narrows his eyes at you in playful suspicion.

It makes you blush. “I—I’d like to…” you’re suddenly shy and you can tell it thrills Jin to see you thrown off your game.

“Then let’s fuck, baby girl,” he smirks as he pushes up from the counter top he rested on moments ago.

“Your place or mine?” His joke is stupid, but it makes you laugh, anyway.

“Knowing your disgusting ass, your bed is covered in god know’s what. Mine, please.”

He tuts and walks behind you down the hallway, hand resting gently at your back.

“Is that any way to talk to your best friend? The one who’s going to eat you out until you’re crying for more?” His words send a shiver down your spine, and he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Well, fuck—when you put it that way…” you trail off.

Your bedroom has never felt more foreign to you in your life. It’s the same as it always is. Queen-size bed, photos on the wall, messy laundry in the corner spilling out of the hamper. But now you’re in it with Jin. You’re in it with Jin because he’s promised you at least one orgasm and you’re sure he will try for more, knowing his ego.

“Welcome,” you gesture nervously as you sit on the bed.

He rolls his eyes. “Stop acting weird,” he chides. “It’s me, you don’t have to be weird around me.” He’s pressing you down towards the pillows to relax.

You want to retort it’s exactly why you’re acting weird. The man you play drunk Monopoly at 3 am with is pressing into you now like he wants to eat you for hours. He’s seen you crying, held your hair back while you puked, heard or witnessed your most embarrassing moments. And now he’s about to fuck you stupid.

You allow your body to relax against all the sirens in your brain telling you this is weird, this is fucked up, you’ll regret it. The blood is rushing out of your frontal cortex and towards your lower half, making your pussy drunk on anything Seokjin can give you.

He smiles as he sees your body relax into the comforter on your bed and he places a hand on your cheek.

“See? Easy peasy.” You roll your eyes and he chuckles. You want to comment, tell him he’s a fucking idiot like you always do when he says something cheesy, but he beats you to the punch and presses his lips against yours gently.

You’ve always wondered what his lips would feel like against your own. He tastes like peppermint. Idly, you realize you’ve always associated Jin with the taste of warm, smoky vanilla, but now that you’re here with your tongue swirling around his, the peppermint makes sense. It suits him.

He kisses you tenderly. It’s not the rushed kiss of a quick hookup. It’s not the passionate kiss of long-lost lovers. It’s the sweet, compassionate kiss—the kind that wants to make you feel like nothing is wrong in the world. Your heart stutters and leaps into your throat as he cups a cheek in his embrace and rubs the delicate skin there with a thumb.

The kiss is finished too soon for your liking. He’s pulling away and smiling down at you. His eyes sparkle with something you can’t quite put your finger on but it makes you feel lit up like Christmas.

“I hear I’m an excellent kisser too,” he smirks down at you and the moment is lost. “Would you agree?”

You roll your eyes. “God, I can’t believe you,” you sigh. “You’re hopeless.”

He tugs on the hem of your shirt, indicating he means to take it off. You tense for a moment. It seems you’ve stupidly forgotten you should be naked for this act. You’re about to be naked and laid bare in front of your best friend who you’ve harbored an inkling of a crush on. He’s about to see your most vulnerable side. Could you trust him? What if he mentioned the freckle above your ass? What if he pointed out something wrong with your body? A wave of uncertainty washes over you.

Jin pulls your shirt off easily and gently. He tosses it toward your ever-growing laundry pile and turns his attention back to you. You’re still in a nice, pretty bra from the hookup and Jin’s eyes are captivated. The cocky smirk is wiped off his lips, and instead he gapes. Your breasts are encased in creamy red satin and he sits up straighter and can’t break his gaze.

“Wow,” he breathes, and it makes your cheeks heat.

“Sorry, I know it’s too much, I can just—,”

He cuts you off with a finger to your lips.

“I always knew you were pretty but, fuck—.. you’re a vision. You’re gorgeous.”

You’re heating. The way your core clenches around nothing as Jin compliments you with all sincerity and no sense of humor like he does has your blood rushing.

“Can I—,” he swallows as he attempts to steel himself. “Can I take it off?”

You nod, too shy to impart any dialogue and assist him by lifting your back slightly to allow his hands space to un-clasp the lingerie.

It falls away easily and you close your eyes as your full globes come free. You hear Jin’s breath catch and it’s silent. A few beats pass and you’re ready to end everything now, it’s too awkward, when a hand gently cups one and a thumb rubs over the nipple. It makes your spine tingle.

You crack your eyes open and see Jin staring intently at your chest, following his thumb as it drags back and forth against the hardening nipple.

“I think you have the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen in my life.”

You want to argue and tell him he’s just saying that to be nice, but the retort dries up in your throat as he leans down and sucks a nipple into his mouth. He tugs on it with the suction of his mouth and licks stripes against the bud. You moan loudly. It feels like he’s praising you with his mouth.

Jin takes his time. You can tell he’s in no rush. He suckles and presses kisses to your breasts with the same attention to detail he gives his culinary creations. He massages each globe in his hands and alternates his lips back and forth between nipples. He draws sweet sighs and moans from your lips and your fingers thread through his thick hair.

After his careful ministrations, he pulls up and smiles at you.

“I’m not going to lie,” he starts. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

You feel like you’ve been slapped. Kim Seokjin, your roommate and best friend, has wanted you? As much as you have wanted him?

He can see you’re faltering for words and he shrugs.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. It doesn’t have to change anything.”

His immediate dejection spurs you into action.

“I’ve wanted it for a long time too,” you reply. “Jin, why would I agree to have sex with you if I wasn’t interested in being with you?”

He smirks a little and you know you’re in for a witty one-liner.

“You wanted to take a ride on this wild stal-Jin.”

His grin is cocky, as it usually is, and as annoying as his jokes are, it loosens a knot of nerves inside you. You had somehow convinced yourself Jin would be a completely unfamiliar person after this. It seems that wouldn’t be the case.

“Oh my god,” you groan.

His hands and mouth are roaming your chest and stomach, peppering the skin with kisses. He teases at your navel with his tongue and any irritation you felt at his terrible pun flies out the window as you feel a surge rush through your veins straight to your cunt.

He fiddles with the button and fly on your jeans, the ones that hug your curves just perfectly.

“Your ass looks good in these jeans,” he comments as he tugs them down. “Almost a shame to take them off. But I’d rather get a full uncensored view.”

You blush and lift your hips to allow him to pull your jeans off. Long legs are spread on the bed and a thong barely protects your modesty. It’s already soaked, there’s no denying it when Jin steals a glance and cocks a coy smile.

“Naughty,” he tsks jokingly. “Someone’s excited to get sucked by the Seok-master.”

“Jesus Christ, Jin,” you sigh. “I hate you.”

“I’d like you to try to say that again when I’m three fingers deep inside you with my tongue.”

His words roll over you like a trail of fire. It clenches at your throat and sizzles down to your core. You can’t help but let a moan out and arch your back.

“I thought so,” he smirks. He fingers at the straps of your thong for a moment and then trails a finger down your slit. It’s wet and warm, and he bites a lip.

“Bet you’re real pretty here too. I think about what your pussy looks like a lot.”

It’s sending you into an unfamiliar state of consciousness to hear Kim Seokjin say such illicit things about you—things you thought to be off-limits.

“Bet it looks even prettier with your face buried in there.” A sly smile spreads on your own features, and Jin looks pleased.

“That’s my fucking girl.”

He tugs the black thong down and it joins the chaos on your bedroom floor.

He’s here now. It’s real. It’s happening. His eyes are glued to your cunt, and a finger is tracing the outline of the lips there.

“No one has ever made you cum from oral?” He asks again. He’s mystified by your center and he hasn’t even seen the full thing yet.

A shuddering breath escapes you as you confirm. “No, no one ever has.”

He sucks his teeth for a moment and remains silent. His fingers slowly slide in to spread you open lewdly, displaying your clit like the grand prize behind the curtain.

“I’ll make sure you get off every single night,” he promises. “No more hooking up with assholes. All mine, okay? Just like you always should have been.”

It’s hard to breathe as you feel his fingers achingly close to your clit and you’re sure your channel is weeping with desire.

“Okay, Jinnie,” you murmur.

“It’s daddy, now, baby.”

It feels like the world stops and you whimper with need.

“Please, daddy,” you cry. “I need you.”

“I can tell, baby. Your poor little pussy hasn’t been shown the love it deserves, hm?” He asks. He still refuses to move any closer to where you need. “You need daddy, don’t you? You need someone who will worship this cunt.”

The air in your lungs is sucked out with vacuum-like force.

He lowers himself to lie between your legs, face close to your center. He spreads your legs further, almost on the verge of discomfort, and wraps his arms under your thighs and grips at the tops to keep you spread.

Suddenly, he’s pressing his face into you and a tongue darts into your channel and laves around. Your eyes roll back in your head at the feeling.

He’s testing the waters, per se, and getting a taste of you. He wants to know what spots drive you crazy. Are you solely a clitoral stimulation girl or do you need the feeling of something filling you tight and deep too? He hopes to learn every single aspect about your cunt before the night is over.

He watches your facial expression as he licks from your walls and up to your clit. Your face contorts in ecstasy as the tip of his tongue flicks quickly on the nub. You’re gasping with desperation, singing his praises as he suckles and rub at your button with his tongue.

You taste delicious; he notes. Earthy, but still sweet like nectar. He thinks maybe your body was tuned to be his.

He spends time there, and it drives you mad. He’s sucking and flicking and dipping his tongue inside you and you feel a sense of euphoria no man has given you. Jin’s pillowy plush lips apply just the right pressure to your clit, kiss it so sweetly you might cry as he then inserts himself to lap up your juices. He drinks as if he’s dehydrated of you, only you, and if he doesn’t get more, he’ll perish.

“Jin—.. daddy, fuck,” you correct your mistake and it makes him chuckle against you.

“Good girl,” he coos. He pulls an arm out from between your thighs and sucks two of his fingers into his mouth, a disgusting display for you that has you nearly cumming right there.

After he determines you tortured and his fingers slicked enough, he moves forward again and slides said fingers up into you. Your back arches again and Jin smirks. You’re a penetration girl just as much as you are a clit girl, and Jin knows he has you hook, line and sinker. He’s unlocked your formula and plans to see it to your very end.

“Look at you,” he murmurs adoringly as he fucks in and out of you. “So nice and wet for daddy. Getting my fingers so slick.” He groans. His cock is hardening rapidly, and he moves his hips on the bed for some stimulation. “I can’t wait to fuck this sweet little hole. I’m going to be the only one who ever makes you cum, and I will always make sure you fucking cum.” He promises.

You’re whimpering with a pleasant mixture of need and satisfaction as he thrusts his digits into you. Jin’s taking his time, which leaves you breathless, gasping for more and more. You want to be greedy and tell him to take you now, so hard and fast, but you want to make this last forever. Your pussy has never felt so alive and vibrant with desire as it does right now.

Jin returns to his post, mouth firmly attached to your clit as he picks up a pace with his fingers. He’s suckling again at your nub and you find it’s the perfect amount of pressure that has your vision darkening around the edges. An impossible tight string is winding so tightly inside you and you feel it threaten to collapse your entire body.

You allow your waning attention to focus on Jin for a moment, and you realize how he truly looks in his element. It looks as if Jin should have been the one between your thighs this whole time. You thought maybe this would feel wrong and perverse. Instead, it feels as if you two have finally slipped together and fit into the picture perfectly, instead of trying to jam into spots not meant for either of you.

It’s heady to think of him like this, your best friend who knows everything about you. It makes sense now—it was always meant to be him in your life. You’ve always wanted him to be the one who simultaneously makes you laugh and cum. He was always meant to be the one for you; it just took until now to really understand it.

Jin picks up the pace again, and it washes away your thoughts as you feel him increase the speed and pressure of his tongue in time with his fingers. His eyes are closed and he’s focused on this like it’s his destiny. Your legs quiver in anticipation as the tightness pulls more, pulls harder and your cunt tightens around his fingers.

It snaps the string inside you and your mental capacity. All you feel is bliss as your body unravels at his hand. Your channel pulses around him and he grins as he feels the clenching and hears your sweet and agonized moans. You’re incapable of any coherent thought except Jin, Jin, Jin and how deliciously sweet he has made you feel and the ecstasy he has wrought out of you.

He allows you a moment to settle down from your high and pulls his fingers from you. He presses a chaste kiss to your clit which makes you squeak at the over stimulation.

As you come back to life, panting breath slowing, he sits up on his knees and smiles at you.

“So, are all the rumors true? Am I good?” He looks smug and as much as you want to slap it off him, you can’t when he’s covered in your slick and looking incredibly sexy while doing so.

“Yeah, you’re good,” you breathe. He grins back at you and moves to lay next to you on the bed. You snuggle up beside him and throw your arm and leg over him. It feels as if you’ve been doing this for years, as if this isn’t the first time you’re being intimate with your best friend of two decades.

After your breath settles completely, he looks over at you with a smile.

“You ready for round two?” He asks.

You’re moving and straddling his hips, rubbing against the hard length in his jeans.

“You know it, daddy.”

His hands quickly move to unbutton his jeans and shove them down and off his body.

“Well,” he quips with his signature grin. “We better get down to Jin’s-ness.”

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