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dilemmaontwolegs · 15 days

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The Perfect Life || CL16 {5}

Summary: It’s Charles first real introduction to his new employee. Warnings: angst, swearing, sarcasm, underground fighting, injuries. WC: 2.7k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six Taglist: RETIRED Head over to my dedicated library blog @dilemmaslibrary and opt to get notifications from there.

The black leather pants and hoodie hid your presence well as you crept through the backyard just before midnight. After years of sneaking in and out of the property you knew exactly where to step to avoid activating the motion sensor lights and Charles followed each step carefully. He had tried to get you to stay at home but finally relented to your stubbornness and changed into more inconspicuous clothes too.

Eventually you reached the small gate that the gardeners used for supply deliveries and found Franco had left it unlocked. The gentle giant had worked security for the last 20 years and aided your escapes more than he liked to admit.

“I hope you know how to ride,” you commented as you opened the caretaker’s shed and tossed him your helmet.

Charles looked at the helmet and turned it so the moonlight caught the almost imperceptible writing on the black carbon - What doesn’t kill me makes me angry. “Fitting,” he chuckled before handing it back. “You wear it.”

“You’re the one with the career, you should wear it.” You swung your heel back and knocked the kickstand up before wheeling the motorcycle out of the shed. It wasn’t the quickest way out but you couldn’t risk waking anyone up with the engine so you always walked it down the street before climbing on.

“It’s actually in my contract that I should avoid dangerous activities and I’m pretty sure this would count as one,” he said as he hung the helmet back on the handlebars and helped push the heavy bike along.

“You’re welcome to stay here in that case, or walk.”

Charles scoffed and shook his head. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

You deemed it far enough from the house and swung your leg over the seat, patting the space behind you. “Get on.”

Charles’ arms wrapped around your middle as he took the seat and kicked the riding pegs out with his boots.

“I’m not sure if you are brave or stupid,” you commented. “You do realise your life is in my hands now.”

“Ma said the two usually go hand in hand but I trust you.”

You were acutely aware of every inch of Charles that touched you for the 15 minute ride to the latest address you had received. His chest rested against your back and his hands that lay on your thighs, only shifting to hold your waist through the corners he leaned into. It was clear he had ridden before but it was probably his first time being the backpack.

“This used to be a nightclub,” Charles said with a frown as you parked in an alleyway and killed the engine.

The old staff entrance was propped open with a brick and you ushered Charles inside where the noise grew with each step.

“Phones,” Rex said as he held his hand out in front of the door that led to the club. You handed yours over first, taking the tab with a number so you could claim it after but the rules were strict, no phones, no cameras. Charles had a harder time parting with his but eventually handed it over with a frown and the doors opened.

The old three storey nightclub had an empty core surrounded by a spiralling staircase that descended two storeys into the basement and one that rose up. The biggest punters would be in the VIP area above and the spectators would line the rails to get the best view of the pit that sat central on the lowest level.

Charles looked over the rail and blanched as two regulars went face to face, blood dripping from the gashes that had been opened by the bare knuckles they fought with.

“Hey,” Arthur greeted with a beer in his hand. “I thought maybe he talked you out of coming.”

“As if, but I was hoping he would stay behind” you said, stealing his beer to take a sip. “Who’s going to bail us out if this place gets raided?”

“We’ll be fine,” Arthur joked. “He’s a runner so we can still call him.”

“Except they took my phone,” Charles grumbled.

Arthur looked at his brother’s hand that almost always held the device and laughed until he noticed the dark sweatpants and hoodie he wore. “You stole my clothes.”

“You left them in my girlfriend's room.” Charles paused and stole the beer next, finishing it off with a cringe. “That is not a sentence I ever thought I would say.”

“While you ponder what your life has become, I am going to go get ready.” You turned and kissed Arthur’s cheek in farewell. “See you down there.”

“Where’s my kiss?” Charles asked, his brow arched in a challenge.

You were already two steps away when you looked over your shoulder. “You can kiss my ass.” It unintentionally drew his eyes down your body to the leather that looked like it had been poured onto your skin and those eyes lingered on your ass until you descended the stairs and disappeared from sight.

“You do realise you are fake dating, right?”

Charles rolled his eyes and lightly shoved his younger brother. “I can still appreciate a good looking woman when I see one.”

“Well, keep those thoughts to yourself. She’s been hurt enough.”

Charles dragged a hand through his hair and nodded. “I know, she told me. I really fucked up, but I thought you were happy about the arrangement?”

“I don’t exactly have a genie lying around, so you're the next best hope she has of getting out of that hellhole.” Arthur shrugged. “I don’t have to tell you that if you fuck this up for her I will never forgive you.”

In the bathrooms of the basement you opened the duffle bag and changed into your usual sports bra and shorts before uncapping the Vaseline and smearing the gel over your cheeks. The familiar scent calmed your mind as you wiped the excess off and grabbed the tape to wrap your knuckles. The monotonous routine was your focus, the sounds outside the room fading as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Evidence of your tears still remained in your puffy eyes but you felt better having finally told him what had weighed you down for a decade. You didn’t want to read too much into that thought as you tied your hair back into a bun so no one could pull it in the ring.

The bell for the end of the last fight rang out and you shook your head to clear it before kicking your bag under the sink and leaving. Arthur was waiting outside with Charles a few steps away and he checked your fists before walking to the ring. Blood splatters littered the vinyl floor that had been rolled out and two of the helpers were dragging an unconscious man out of the way.

“Bathroom is there if you’re gonna vomit,” you said to Charles as he swallowed nervously. From the other side of the ring Kaine was grinning at you, his mouth guard the colour of blood he was looking to spill, and you blew him a kiss.

“You’re fighting a guy!?” Charles exclaimed as he realised that was your competitor.

“There’s not exactly many female fighters to choose from.”

“You could get hurt, that man is huge.”

You rolled your shoulders out and bounced on the balls of your feet as you warmed up. “You’re really great at instilling confidence, you should have your own Ted Talk.”

“If you’re not going to help then go away,” Arthur growled before turning to face you. “Remember, he favours his right leg and Javier broke his collarbone last month. What doesn’t kill you?”

“Makes me angry.” You opened your mouth and Arthur put your mouthguard in before opening the cage door for the octagonal ring. On the floors above cash was trading hands as the bookies took the bets but you paid them no mind as you circled the floor with Kaine.

“She’s going to get killed,” Charles choked as he laced his fingers in the chain link fence. “He’s massive.”

“She’s agile. What she lacks in size she makes up for with speed. Just don’t be shocked by what you see.”

“What do you mean? I'm already shocked.”

Arthur snorted a laugh. “Just wait, I didn’t even recognise her the first time. It’s like watching a completely different person take over her body.”

All the anger and hate that lay dormant in your body awoke when the bell rang and the ref stepped out from between you and Kaine. All the emotions that you kept bottled inside were released and your eyes narrowed on the man who was going to be at the receiving end.

Kaine rushed across the mat with all the grace of a baby elephant charging on rollerskates. The very floor vibrated with each stomp of his size 14 feet and his fist reeled back and he poured his entire strength into the first punch. Unfortunately it was his bulk that slowed the punch down and you easily avoided the attack that could have probably crushed your skull. You ducked under his arm and used your spinning momentum to land a kick on his left knee. The joint twisted unnaturally and he cried out as with pain and anger.

Arthur was right, he did favour his right leg and you had just re-injured the old ailment. Off balance, he tried to follow your quick movements but you were already back in front of him, jabbing a quick one-two combo to his core. Heat flared in your fists as they connected with the hard muscle of his abs but you welcomed the rush of adrenaline that followed the pain. Kaine threw a punch of his own and you skirted away but not quick enough and his knuckles more than caressed your cheek. You had dodged the knockout blow but there would still be a bruise to show for your slow reaction.

“Nice work,” you said with a grin as you circled around each other. “You almost got me, big boy. C’mon, take another shot.”

You probably shouldn’t have taunted him because there was no avoiding the roundhouse kick that rattled your rib cage and knocked the breath out of you with a gasp. It was a mistake to look at Charles through the fence but you saw the worry in his eyes and the white-knuckled grip he had on the chain.

“Watch out,” he shouted as the concern turned to panic for what was coming behind you.

On instinct you dropped low and raised your arms to protect your head, barely missing the right hook that would have rendered you unconscious. Rage took over as he leapt forward on his good leg to attack again and you waited for him to overextend into the punch before stepping closer. It was impossible for him to defend in such a confined space and he was surprised by the sudden change. You planted your feet and drove the power of your punch up from your legs, twisting your hips as you rolled your shoulder and crashed your left fist into the softer skin protecting his kidney. A deep grunt expelled from him as he hunched over and you followed through with a right hook of your own. Right into his weak spot.

His piercing cry was almost as sharp as the snap of bone under your knuckles and he stumbled back clutching his collar that was freshly rebroken. The roar of the crowd was deafening as the bell rang for the round’s end and you threw your swollen fists into the air while your ribs protested.

Kaine limped back to his corner and shook his head to the ref, ending the fight after only one round. You tugged your mouthguard out and shook your head disappointingly. “Pussy.”

He spat his guard to the ground and winced as he cradled his arm over his chest. “Crazy bitch.”

You smiled at the insult and curled a finger. “Wanna come over here and say that?”

Unsurprisingly, he didn’t attempt to re-enter the ring so you turned and made your own exit. Arthur was waiting with a grin on his face and his arms open but before you could step into his embrace Charles was there. The shock barely registered when his arms curled around you and for a moment you felt something, but then the pain in your ribs reared its ugly head.

“Fuck,” you groaned as you shoved him away and looked down at the bruise already blooming along your side. “I think he might’ve broken one.”

“Shit, we need to get you to the hospital.”

It annoyed you how easy it was to read Charles' face. Concern, regret, anger. It was like reading a book and you wanted to tell him to relax but it was quite nice to have another person around who actually showed their feelings.

“Great idea, and what do you think we should tell them?” you asked as you started to make your way back to the bathroom. “I don’t think ‘it was an accident’ is going to satisfy them.”

“Fine,” Charles sighed, “where do you normally go when you get hurt?”

You stared at Arthur and he stared back before his lips twitched and you both laughed. An irritated growl rumbled from Charles before Arthur pointed to the messenger bag hanging from his shoulder.

“He makes a cute doctor,” you said with a wink before he followed you into the bathroom. Charles tried to follow too but you blocked the doorway. “Sorry, patient/doctor confidentiality.”

You cut off his protests with the door and leaned back against the cold wood. “Do you think he will still be there?”

Arthur nodded and opened the bag to pull out a few bandages and a bottle of arnica. “I don’t think you are getting rid of him anytime soon.”

“Great.”

“Is it really that bad?” Arthur asked as he gently dabbed the arnica over the bruises.

“Kind of hard to erase a decade of hate, even if he is hot.”

Arthur grinned and you rolled your eyes. “You think he’s hot.”

“Shut up. I’m not blind.” You unravelled the tape from your knuckles before waving a hand over him. “You’re hot too but it doesn’t mean I want to date you.”

“Thanks? I guess?”

“You know what I mean. Would you date me?”

“Are you asking me out? It’s a bit awkward since you are dating my brother.”

You huffed and glared at his amused grin. “Fake.”

“Potayto, potahto. But, no, if you really need to know, I wouldn’t date you. You’re my best friend, you know me way too well.”

“Exactly, I could never be with someone who brushes their teeth in the shower.”

“Once, for fucksake, I did that once when I was running late.”

You screwed your face up and shook your head with disgust. “There’s no excuse, Tur. We will just have to be friends.”

“Carve my heart out now,” he mocked before patting your side. “All done. Ready to go?”

You thought about the man waiting on the other side of the door and sighed at the thought of having to sleep in the same room as him. “Do you want to stay the night?”

“Oh, no, no, I am not going to be your buffer. You gotta figure out whatever is going on between you and Charles on your own.” He kissed your cheek and grinned at the sour look on your face. “Love you.”

“Ugh, I hate you,” you groaned and his smile only grew wider at the lie.

“Tell Cha to call me in the morning, so I know he is alive.”

Click here for the next part.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you

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stargirlrchive · 4 months

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— BSF BIKER!SIMON

cw: simon riley x female reader, biker!simon, v slight smut at the very end but not fully, simon is possessive and jealous (meow) ((i will eat him)), also the way reader yearns for him is so real, likes she’s me — inspo post

NSFW ✩ MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)

GENERAL MASTERLIST

You heard Simon before you saw him, well you heard his bike. The loud revving of the engine, growing louder and more frequent the longer it took for you to come out of the restaurant. Your heels clacked loudly behind you, your steps quickening as you sent your date another apologetic smile.

Fifteen minutes prior, Simon had texted you, telling you he needed you. You had been unable to text back, not wanting to seem rude, but your date sent you an understanding smile as you picked up your phone after the constant buzzing.

Your eyes quickly skimming the messages and anxiety embedded into your stomach the more frantic Simon’s messages got.

You’re out right now?

Who are you with?

I need to see you.

I’m going to get you.

I’m on my way.

You felt your heart lurch in your throat as you checked his location. He was only about four minutes out and your fingers prickled with nerves.

The soft voice of the man across the table from you brought you out of your spiral. “Everything alright?”

You forced a smile onto your face, nodding, “A friend of mine-”

The loud roar of the motorcycle had you tensing, standing up quickly as you looked towards the entrance of the nice restaurant, “I-I’ll be right back, I’m sorry-”

You didn’t give him a chance to respond, bolting towards the door.

You nearly tripped over your heels as you tried to get to Simon faster, the words leaving you in an exasperated breath, “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

You couldn't get the words out fast enough, your brows pinching as you looked over him, looking for anything that looked wrong but everything seemed fine.

Your brows furrowing together further as he barked out a laugh, even with his visor on you could feel the way his eyes were skimming over your body. “Why d’nt you ever wear anything like this when we go out?”

“Simon-”

“Get on.”

“What?”

His thick fingers reached out to gently cup your elbow, pulling you closer to him as his fingers softly rubbed across your exposed skin, distracting you. “Come on, let’s go.”

“I’m on a date.”

His fingers stilled on your arm, and even though you couldn’t see his face, you knew he was frowning. You felt the nerves wrapping around your throat at his silence. That silly part of you that longed for him wanted to soothe him, and you inched closer.

His fingers dropped from your elbow and you instantly missed the warmth, your fingers moved and popped his visor open.

His eyes were darker than normal, upset, and warmth licked at your belly. You hated that he could do this to you, that he could warrant such reactions from you with just one look.

“Get on.” This time, his tone was anything but playful. Just a thick growl as he handed you the helmet that was reserved just for you.

“I can’t!”

“I will go in there myself and tell him you’re gonna be busy for the rest of the night.”

You suppressed the whimper that wanted to fall from your mouth, arousal pooling between your thighs as you tried so desperately not to cave.

But his eyes softened, his gloved fingers inching closer and tangling with yours as he pulled you into him, “C’mon, love. I got a view I’ve been wanting to show you.”

You barely registered that you had agreed, only when he was helping you into your helmet and then your thighs were spread wide to cage around his legs. Your palms flat against his abdomen as you held on close.

And you should’ve felt guilty when he revved his bike again, as if showing off, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. Not when his gloved fingers gently squeezed your knee and he was off before you could think too much about what you were doing to that poor man that was waiting for you at the restaurant.

The two of you drove for what felt like hours, the cold nip of the wind on your skin felt surprisingly mild with your body pressed flush against his.

He smelled so good, like cedar and musk, and cigarettes. So incredibly Simon, and you inched even closer to him. Your fingers gently rubbed against his stomach as he drove faster and faster.

When you finally arrived at the view, Simon helped you off the bike, laughing quietly as you huffed about how your heels were gonna get ruined. Both of your helmets came off and you tried to fix your hair as best you could.

A soft noise of surprise left your mouth as he scooped you up, sitting you back firmly against the seat of his bike.

“No ruined heels on my account.”

The air around the two of you felt different, as if the two of you were just silently orbiting around the other until one decided to veer off course and crash.

His fingers didn’t move from your hips as he towered over you, “What are you doing, Simon?”

Rough fingers gently dipped into your waistband, softly gliding against the lacy material against your hip. “Jus’ wanna be close to you.”

Your breath hitched staring up at him, his lashes kissing his cheeks as he stared down at your lips. Your heart thrummed wildly in your chest, your body feeling alight with desire and warmth.

The two of you had always toed on something that was more than friendship, but it had never felt like this. It had never been so glaringly obvious. His head dipped down and his lips ghosted over your own. Barely touching. Waiting.

When you didn’t back away, his lips were on yours the next instant. They were plump and softer than you could've ever imagined. His fingers digging into your hips as his mouth pressed firmly to yours. His tongue prying your lips open and familiarizing the feel with his tongue.

Your hands were everywhere, you didn't know where to touch him. They were first fisting at his shirt, then gripping the taut muscles on his arms, then tugging at his hair. He brought your hips towards the edge of his bike and pressed himself flush against you. Slowly grinding as his mouth moved down to your neck, nipping and kissing. Licking down the column of your throat as he pulled out desperate noises from your swollen lips.

His finger made its way into the waistband of your skirt, bunching up the material at your hips. His eyes focused on the pretty black lace that covered you from him, a deep growl ripping from his throat as his thumb pushed against your clit, “Hate that you wore this for him.”

Your hips bucked, and the shake of the bike under you reminded you of where you were. A soft laugh that mingled with a moan escaped you, “It’s not like you were asking to see them.”

He gave a soft pinch to your clit and you gasped, glaring up at him softly, “Thought it was pretty obvious.”

You whined as he slipped his fingers away from your cunt, his lips pressing against yours again as he mumbled, “As much as I want to take my time with you, anyone can show up.”

You felt dizzy as he turned you over, bending you over the seat of his bike. Your back arched as much as it could, feeling his hardened cock press against the swell of your ass.

“Next time.”

He pulled away and you could hear the sound of his zipper being drawn, his thick fingers pushing your panties to the side to run his cock against your messy folds.

He gave three taps to your clit before dragging the tip through your folds.

Your breath hitched as he gently pushed forward. His thick cock spearing into you. The excitement evident in his voice, “Yeah, next time.”

#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x reader smut #simon riley x female reader #call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader

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hoesformatt · 4 months

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U ASLEEP?

matt smut, y’all this is smut do NOT play in my face rn

contains: harsh/mean matt 😝, degrading kinks, choking, spanking

word count: 0.8k

I lay on my side after tossing around for the past 2 minutes in my bed asking alexa what time it was.

“2:38 A.M”

My insomnia was keeping me awake and I didn’t just want to go wandering around in the triplets’ house in a crop top, no bra and thong so I just turned on the lights and stared at the room until my vision went clear.

In a deep breath and jumped back in bed just lying there for what it felt like an eternity until a notification startled me up from bed.

Grabbing my phone in hope of a distraction I got a text from Matt and I was extremely surprised knowing that me and Matt weren’t the best of friends.

He was the jealous type; Nick introduced us to eachother and we talked a little bit, but we never went anywhere because of how possessive and protective Matt was, it just wasn’t meant to be. Despite that situationship, Nick and me stayed friends.

“u asleep?”

“No”

“Come to my room”

“No why”

“That wasn’t a question”

I glanced across my room realising I had nothing left to lose so I got up and walked towards his bedroom and stopped at his door hesitant to knock on it, but I mustered the courage to do it anyways.

“Come in”

I entered his room and noticed this dimness of his room, with only the lamp on his bedside table being on, the light accentuating color of his blue eyes exploring my curves.

“Don’t be shy”

I sauntered towards his bed staring straight at him from above, his hardness being more noticeable the closer I got to him.

“Come closer”

He took my wrist and lead me towards his lap, placing my knees on both sides of his body,

He pulled me closer to him holding me by my neck to sloppily kiss me, his tongue caressing the walls of my mouth while his hands were exploring the inside of my top massaging my breasts sensually.

My lips left his and I moved to the end of his body where his crotch was to tug his pants down. “No boxers?” I gaped up at him.

“Shut up and put my dick in your mouth”

I obeyed Matt’s words and stuck my tongue out to lick his tip that was already leaking pre-cum. He was becoming impatient and grabbed my throat “Do you think i’m playing games with you?” I shook my head no, “So don’t try it”.

He let go watching me fill my mouth with his inches and a breathy gasp left his lips. He held my dark curls in his hand pushing my head down towards the end of shaft.

Glancing up at Matt face still bobbing my head, a long groan strung out his lips and he let his head hit the headboard, leaving his mouth at a ‘o’.

“I’m gonna cum in your mouth and I want you to swallow it all”. I agreed then continued to suck his cock, twisting my head hollowing my cheeks feeling his warm liquids fill up in my mouth. After he finished he pulled my head off his dick and then looked straight into my eyes holding my throat.

“Get on fours” Matt got up from the bed as I propped myself on the bed and he came behind me placing my thong to side then smacking my ass making me arch my back.

He placed his tip at my entrance, his hands on waist then pressing his cock fully into me not wasting time to thrust within me without mercy.

“F-fuck Matt slow down”

“No take it like slut you are”

Matt held my hips tightly, his nails digging into my skin making marks my screams and moan streaming out my mouth.

A sting spirals on the area Matt slapped, claps echoing throughout his room “Shut the fuck up, do you want Nick and Chris to hear you?” He snarled at me.

I gripped onto the pillow pressing my face to it to stop my moans from coming out as he was watching his cock disappear inside a soaking cunt repeatedly. I felt his length twitch and my orgasm catching up to me.

“Matt I’m c-cumming, oh m-my fuck” My legs begun to shake uncontrollably and my body went weak as I came all over his dick that was still throbbing inside of me.

“I didn’t say you could cum did I?” Catching my breath, I didn’t get the chance to reply before he spanked my ass.

“Answer me”

“No you didn’t”

“You owe me one. Whenever I say, do you understand”

“Yes I understand Matt”

“You’re a fucking slut”

to be continued… (maybe bitch like…)

tags: @miguelsangel

more of my smut: stuck with you

ts was lowkey ass dkm y’all all i’m tryna do is feed y’all a singular teaspoon, TTM

#matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #smut #fics #fan fiction #fan fic #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo

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justlemmeadoreyou · 6 months

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a misfortune | (mechanic!harry part 1)

Okay, so here is my version of the grumpy!harry x sunshine!yn trope. I had midterms so this got a bit late! Sorry! I don't rhink you waited for my shitty writing, but here it is (forcefully)

masterlist | tip me! | ask box!

Summary: Harry is a grumpy asshole, but he is also a mechanic that you are in desperate need of. Sunshine!reader x Grumpy! harry trope

Word Count: ~2k

8 hours.

That's how long you've been in the backseat of your car, and chewing on your already swollen nails. All your belongings, from clothes to your oversized makeup bag, toiletries, blankets, bedsheets, and even your electronic gadgets, are crammed beside you on the backseat. Your life has spiraled into chaos because your landlord has kicked you out.

Tears well up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you recall the moments that have led you to this bleak situation. It isn't fair, which is something you think. That isn't true though. You haven't paid your proper rent in nearly six months, frequently stumbling home at obnoxious hours, blasting loud music when you were drunk and high, and you hadn't even bothered to check the 15-day eviction notice that arrived almost 20 days ago. So, yes, your landlord had every right to kick you out.

You were irresponsible, reckless, and didn't give two cares until you became homeless. With your car serving as an unwelcome shelter, you realize you should have been more responsible. You should have cared more about your living situation before it all came crashing down on you. If only you had taken your life more seriously, you wouldn't be stuck in your car on this cold, lonely night.

It was the beginning of November, and you had so many plans about decorating your small apartment. You had fetched out the Christmas lights too, planning on hanging them out the following weekend. The memory of those festive plans, the warmth of the holiday spirit, now feels like a distant dream.

You wipe away your tears, but they keep flowing. You shift some of your stuff down on the floor of the car to make some space to sleep in. You curl up into yourself in the small space, and after a few more tears, you're finally asleep.

You're woken by harsh knocks on your window. You try to open your eyes, but the sunlight pouring in through the window is so blinding that you have to squint and shield your face with your hand.

It's a man, who looks angry at you. You roll down the window a bit so you can hear what he's saying.

“Could you move your car out of here, please?”

You rub your eyes and finally get a look at your surroundings, and you see that you've basically parked at the entrance of a house.

“Yeah-yeah. I will. Sorry,” you grunt with a raspy voice, and he goes back inside.

You quickly fix your clothes and your hair, and grabbed the car keys from your pocket. Opening the door, you got out of the backseat and got back out front.

Pushing the key in, you turned it, but the engine didn’t start. You tried it again and again, biut all in vain.

Great.

Just fucking great.

Now even your car had given up on you.

You felt like crying all over again, this was all so heartbreaking. You had to get the car checked almost two months ago, when the check engine light had started to blink first.

You pulled out your phone and searched for a nearby garage. Hopefully, there was one that was 2 blocks away. But that meant you wouyld have to push your car two blocks.

You could also call a tow service, but that would take money, and money was something you were running short on.

With a loud sigh, you switched the handbrake on, and got out of the car.

Rolling up your sleeves, you started to push it. The car was so heavy, and you managed a good 200 meters, before you were sweating profusely, and almost gave up, putting your hands on your knees and breathing loudly.

A kind man offered to help, and thank lord he did. With lots of struggle and a good 15 minutes, you were finally able to reach the garage.

Quick Fix Auto

You read the garage name, before lockiong your car and walking in. It was still 8 pm, so you doubted getting any help at this hour.

“Hello?”

You called out tentatively as you entered the garage and walked further into the shop, past the cars and vehicles scattered out front. Hopefully, a second voice would call you back, or you would have had to wait for someone to come in.

“Yeah, I’m a bit busy. Be out in a minute,” the voice replied. It sounded British and thickly laced with an accent. You couldn't help but think that now a gorgeous British guy would see your horrible car, which was also your home, all wrecked up and messed up due to negligence. Bonus points to you for not even washing your face after waking up.

You briefly contemplated running away and finding another garage with an old mechanic. However, you realized you physically wouldn't have been able to do that. So, you took a deep breath, preparing to face the embarrassment and potential humiliation.

After a few moments, he came out, and boy, was he gorgeous. A white headband held his thick hair back, and below that was a beautifully shaped face with green eyes. His tan hands were covered in a bit of grease, and he had tools hanging from his upturned waistband.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and you gulped hard, snapping back to reality from admiring his physique. Boy, was he pretty.

“Oh, um... I tried to start my car this morning, but it won’t start.”

“And what’s the issue? The battery is out, fuel is down?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I came here.”

“Jeez, your breath smells terrible. Alright, let me have a look at it. Keys?”

He extended his hand to take your keys while looking into your eyes. You squinted at him for his rude remark, then handed him the keys.

“You don’t have to be so rude, you know.”

He kept walking, ignoring your comment. As he reached your car, he stopped in his tracks when he saw your belongings inside it. He turned back to look at you, and you frowned. Eye bags, dark circles under your eyes, a sad face, and you hadn't even washed your face; you had to rush to get your car fixed. You were in bad shape.

He decided to draw a line and not throw questions at you. He opened your car and took a look inside, noticing that the check engine light was on.

“How long has this been on for?”

“Oh, that. Yeah, about... 2 months?”

He slumped his shoulders and came back out, walking to yhe front and opening the hood of the car. As soon as it went up, a big cloud of smoke escaped.

“Fuck. What did you do?”

He coughed a bit, taking a step back to let the smoke dissipate. You felt even more humiliated than before, but he seemed more focused on the issue with your car than making further remarks about your condition.

“Alright. So, this is not going to get fixed in a short while. It’s going to take atlest 2 days.”

“No! Where will I live?”

You exclaimed loudly, and his eyes widened.

You could book a hotel?”

“I don’t have money.”

“A motel?”

“How will I reach one? Most of them are out of town.”

“Right, so you could still sleep in it at night, but I lock the garage at 11. So, you will have to park it outside.”

She nodded her head, and he still felt bad for her.

“I’m Harry, by the way”

He extended the same grease-stained hand again, and she complied, shaking hands with him.

"I'm Yn." she said.

"There’s a bathroom at the back. You can clean up there if you want to. My staff comes in at 9, so you still have about half an hour."

She smiled at his kind offer. He might be rude and grumpy, but he wasn't a bad person.

"Thank you, Harry. I really appreciate it."

"Oh that's okay. But, you do have money to pay for your car, right?"

You did a quick calculation in your mind, and quickly came to the conclusion that you didn't have even that money.

"No, but- listen to me! My payday is here, so I'm gonna get paid soon. I have to buy few supplies first, and then I promise I will pay you as soon as possible. I'll borrow money from my friends."

"As long as I get paid, I don't care where you get the money from."

And the grumpiness was back.

"Okay! Can I go in?"

"Sure. Be my guest."

You got some stuff from the car and went inside the garage. walking all the way to the back, and finding the washroom. You locked the door and cleaned yourself up.

Meanwhile, Harry took a look at your car.

It was in a bad condition. it hadn't been serviced in over two years, and the engine oil hadn't been replaced in so long. The battery was old too. A lot of work had to be done. and he had no idea how he would manage when you literally lived in the car.

Meanwhile, you were happy to have gotten a place to brush and bathe. Initially, you thought you would have to go to a cafe or restaurant, and brushing and bathing there would’ve been embarrassing. Even though embarrassment and humiliation were your best friends now.

You walked out in clean clothes a while later. and saw your car standing at the same place, with no sign of Harry. You searched for him again, and found him at the back, working on the same car he had been in when you had arrived.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Why aren't you working on my car?"

He slid out from the bottom of the car, before replying, "I have other jobs too. First come, first serve. Plus, this one paid me in advance."

You frowned and flared at his words, and decided to deal with him later.

"So, can I take it, then? I have to go to work."

"No, I will work on it in the afternoon."

"Then how the hell am I supposed to reach work?"

"Many options, by foot, take the bus, order an Uber, Oh! Sorry! I forgot you didn't have money."

He mocked you once again, and this time, you seriously wanted to punch him across the face. Maybe you would, once your car was done. But right now, you have priorities.

"Alright, fine. But my stuff is in the car."

"Chill. Nobody's gonna take it. They might give things to you, though."

You rolled your eyes again, and went back to your car. Why did he have to be such a dick?

Gathering your bag, you stuffed your valuables, leaving only clothes and heavy articles behind. You shifted it to one corner, and draped a huge sheet to cover it.

"Okay, I'm leaving."

And once again, that grumpy asshole ignored you.

(next part)

divider by @firefly-graphics

okay, sorry if this sucked, i really don't know how to write l literally finished this at 2am, so really really sorry

taglist: @freedomfireflies @gurugirl @thechaoticjoy @styleslover-1994 @gem1712 @ellaorchard @bxbyysstuff @opheliaofficial07 @rafaaoli @tchlamqtsgf @the-mouse27 @indierockgirrl @vrittivsanghavi @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @drewrry @babyiamperfectforyou @whoreonmondays @avalentina

let me know if you want to be added or removed!

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thefreakandthehair · 6 months

Text

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 27th: Haunted House | Hunters Moon - Ghost | Funny read on ao3 + masterpost | tumblr masterlist

Haunted houses are supposed to be scary– fog, strobe lights, creepy crawlies and otherworldly creatures. Eddie’s prepared for all of that when he takes the job at the local haunt during his favorite time of year– it’s in the name, after all.

What he’s not prepared for is Steve Goddamn Harrington to show up with a gaggle of pre-teens nipping at his heels like baby ducks demanding attention.

“– don’t need your bat, it’s fine! It’s fake, Steve, c’mon.” He hears one particularly loud mop-headed kid arguing from behind his perch.

Faux blood drips from the gash built up on his forehead down his nose and he smears it across his cheek, both for effect and because as much as he loves the hideous clown role, the viscous corn syrup trickling down his face makes his skin crawl.

Wait, he thinks, furrowing his eyebrows as best he can beneath the special effects makeup. Did that kid just insinuate Steve Harrington wanted to bring a bat into a haunted house?

“Yeah Steve, are you scared of spooky clowns now?” Another of his group sneers, this one a bit taller, skinny with darker hair. “Gonna show off and clobber some poor innocent actor like you did that demo–”

Steve hisses loud enough still for Eddie to hear him and grabs the kid by the shoulder. “Say it a little louder, why dontcha, Mike? Jesus Christ.”

“Well, are you?” A redheaded girl asks as they get closer and closer to the entrance.

“After everything real we’ve seen, you think I’m afraid of what I know is fake?” Eddie can make out the shape of Steve standing with one hand on his hip and his finger pointing around at each of the kisd. “This was you little shits’ idea, remember that.”

Eddie’s grateful he’s toward the beginning of the haunt. He gets to set the tone for the rest of the show, and when someone particularly interesting piques his interest, sometimes he follows them around. Breathes down their neck a little, stands just a little too close without blinking, tilts his head with a ghastly smile when they turn around.

Before they’ve even entered the house, Eddie’s decided to have a little fun with Steve Harrington.

The fog machine kicks off, curling up from the floor around their ankles, spiraling like snakes up to the ceiling. Eddie grins and prepares himself for scare number one.

The jumpscare.

“Ow, you’re on my foot, asshole!” One of the kid whispers.

“Then don’t stand so close!” Another responds.

“We’re literally in a fucking hallway–”

“Guys, language! And while you’re at it, shut the fuck up and pay attention!”

When they’re in classes together, Eddie has to choke back the amused grin that plays at his lips when Steve shows off his bite but nothing is real in a haunted house anyways.

He lets himself smile.

At least, until the sound machine groans to life. He waits for them to look around, to seek control, to figure out what the noise is and how to defend against it.

“Welcome!” He screams with a cackling laugh, leaping out from his hiding spot and landing in a crouching position. “I hope you like it here, because you’re,” he circles around them with bent legs before leaning closer and shouting, “never leaving!”

All of the kids scream simultaneously, devolving into nervous laughter. Steve though? Eddie watches Steve seize up and instinctually yank the kids closer to him.

It’s not what he expects from the King of Hawkins High, dethroned or otherwise. Eddie’s heart clenches as he locks eyes with Steve, flitting back and forth between the rest of the haunt and the door they’d just entered through. His nostrils are flared, his lips tight, his eyebrows knitting together above his nose.

Eddie’s gonna follow him alright, but not for the reasons he's initially planned.

“My name is Krusty, and I’m your new friend.”

He circles around Steve like a predator and leans closer, his lips nearly grazing Steve’s ear. “Follow my lead, I’ll get you outta here.”

Steve turns too quickly and their faces narrowly avoid one another, shoved between the kids itching to keep moving and the wall. Eddie nods and tries to make his smile comforting and reassuring. It must work because Steve’s shoulders drop from his ears and he whispers back.

“Thanks.”

—

Eddie bangs on the wall each time they enter the new room, cackling and yelling things like Fresh meat! and Look, I found us some new friends! The kids seem to be thoroughly enjoying themselves, and even Eddie can’t help but laugh when one of his fellow scare actors snorts in the curly-headed kid’s ear loud enough that he damn near jumps into Steve’s arms.

“Jesus Christ, Dustin!” Steve topples backwards into Eddie, who braces himself against a prop cotton candy machine. “Remember earlier? It’s fake, Steve, c’mon?”

From around Steve’s shoulder, Eddie sees Dustin shoot Steve an annoyed look with wide, incredulous eyes.

“Alright, alright, you good?” Steve rectifies, his voice softer.

Dustin nods and straightens himself out with a pat on the head and ruffle from Steve before walking forward to rejoin the group.

“Last scare, Harrington” Eddie takes the opportunity to whisper in Steve’s ear, dropping out of character entirely.

Who can blame him? How can he be expected to stay in the headspace of a terrifying, bloody clown when Steve Harrington is in his space, protecting little sheep when he’s afraid himself? And wearing some of the tightest jeans he’s ever seen?

He’s just a man.

Steve whips around with furrowed brows and a wrinkled nose. “How the fuck do you know my name?”

“Krusty knows everything.”

He tries to shift back into gear and grins as he licks the fake blood that’s dripped down his nose to his top lip. It must be the fog machine, because there’s no way he just caught Steve’s eyes flickering down to track the movement.

Nothing’s real in a haunted house.

“Your children seem to have disappeared without you, let’s go catch them. Before someone else does.” Eddie claps his hands together with faux glee and skips ahead.

The last room of the haunt is Eddie’s least favorite, truthfully. No actors, no human presence, just disorienting, kaleidescopic strobe lights, cobwebs hanging from the ceiling tangling themselves in whatever they can reach, and disembodied, whirring noises blaring from the speakers. If anything, it just gives him a headache.

Steve’s charges handle it well enough; like many others, they complain that it was boring and Eddie overhears some of their constructive criticisms. He agrees with their stance, but can’t spend much time focusing on that.

Not when he looks back to check on Steve only to find him with one hand over his eyes and the other scaling the side of the wall, cobwebs sticking to the sleeve of his jacket and knotting in his hair.

Before Eddie can think about what he’s doing, his feet make the decision for him and he approaches Steve, places a hand on his lower back. Steve startles against the touch but doesn’t move his hand.

“Just keep your eyes closed and I’ll get us out, okay? We all fuckin’ hate this room, trust me.”

Steve nods and takes a shaky breath, letting Eddie guide him through the room as quickly and discreetly as possible. “It’s just the goddamn lights, man. I get migraines and these are the worst. Those kids give me enough headaches without the extra help.”

Eddie gives a soft chuckle and shakes his head, looks Steve up and down briefly before they reach the end. Selfishly, Eddie wants to take his time and soak up the false reality of the haunted house and the safety it offers because really, in what other world will he ever be this close to Steve Harrington again? But he can tell the guy he’s suffering and Eddie has his fantasies to fall back on later.

They’ve gotten him this far.

“Why’d you bring ‘em then?” He asks, curious.

Steve shrugs and sighs. “They’re good kids and wanted to come, and I’m the babysitter so, of course, it’s me. Gotta make sure they’re safe.”

He says the last bit with a heaviness that Eddie doesn’t quite understand but they take their last few steps out into the night. The illusion of the haunted house crumbles, Eddie removes his hand as though he’s been branded, and Steve’s eyes flutter open.

“Well, you did great. Your monsters are over there.” Eddie gestures with his chin towards the open field where six kids sit in a circle, laughing a bit too loudly.

“Better go wrangle them up.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and comes away with a cobweb.

“Oh yeah, you’ve got a little–” Eddie starts, reaching up impulsively to pick what he can out of Steve’s hair.

He’s touching The Hair’s hair, and he doesn’t catch the rumored Harrington right hook for it. Instead, Steves stands silent as Eddie works, staring and blinking a few times.

“There ya go, de-cobwebed. Free of charge,” Eddie smirks with pursed lips. “Unless you wanna tip, there’s a jar up front.”

“Thanks,” Steve starts, running both hands through his hair and shaking as though to make sure. Or to torment Eddie. Maybe both. “For this and for uh, that.” He jerks his thumb behind them towards the house.

“Any time, man. Any time. Spread the word, will ya? We could use the business.”

Steve smiles at him as he turns to walk away, and Eddie wishes it was really him on the receiving end. But it’s not, because Steve doesn’t recognize him behind all the makeup. He’s just Krusty: bleeding heart, overly kind menacing clown.

It's true, the motto. Nothing's real in a haunted house.

“Oh and, hey,” Steve calls out when he’s just a few steps away.

“Yeah?” Eddie responds as Steve turns to look over his shoulder.

“See you in Click’s class on Monday, Munson.”

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie month #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #myblurbs #eddie month prompts #please consider reblogging if you enjoy! <333

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ghxstwrites · 27 days

Text

Petals and Praise

🤍 Yeosang x Chubby/Plus size Reader 🤍

⚠️ Smut (MDNI!), Fluff, Pussy Drunk! Yeosang, oral sex, loads of praise, pet name usage (Baby, Love, Pretty, Sangie), swearing, reader has female anatomy, overstimulation, squirting, fingering general messy Yeosang. If I missed anything, let me know! ⚠️

You stood in front of the mirror observing your body in the dress you’d recently bought. Examining all the ways it hugged your body in all the most unflattering spots.

‘It looked cute on the rack…’

You’d thought to yourself, yours and Yeosang’s 1 year anniversary was quickly approaching and you’d agreed on a nice dinner and a stroll through the park to admire the freshly blooming cherry blossoms, so you’d wanted to look nice for him. Just as you’d lost yourself in your spiral of thoughts, your boyfriend walks through the door

“Y/N, baby, what are - Oh…” He stops mid sentence to stare at you, his eyes taking in your figure as you stand there. Your eyes met his.

“Sangie? Is everything okay?” you looked at him, his brain seemingly has ceased to function. “Y/N-ah….” he states softly, walking over behind you wrapping his arms around your soft body.

You look away from him as he comes up behind you, “it.. I liked it on the rack and it -” you’re cut off by Yeosang leaning down to place soft kisses across your shoulder, whispering softly “You look gorgeous…" His words cause a shiver to run down your spine.

“But.. it hugs all the wrong spots and it does - “ once again, your words ceased by Yeosangs actions as he runs his hands over your curves gripping softly “You look perfect, and I wish you could see yourself the way I see you… Y/N… Look at me.. “ you turn to face him as you look up at him, his eyes holding what seemed to be all the love and adoration in the world for you as he smiles. “Do I need to show you just what you do to me?”

With that, Yeosang leans down gently kissing you as he grips onto your hips, pulling you closer, arms instinctively coming up to wrap around his neck as he deepens your kiss, slowly pulling the zipper to the dress down, you let it fall to the floor he pulls back as he looks at you with blown pupils “No bra?.. “ he says softly as he reaches up cupping your breast with one hand, letting his thumb graze over your nipple as the other rubs small circles on your hip. Your breath gets caught in your throat before you’re able to form a reply as Yeosang leads you over to your shared bed.

“Y-Yeosang…” is all you can manage to muster as he hovers over you, placing small kisses on your neck and chest, arousal pooling between your legs as he works his way down your body, soft praises being whispered over your skin as he leaves behind blooms of purple and pink, your hands finding his blonde locks as quiet moans escape your mouth.

“Fucking perfect..” is all you manage to make out before he takes your nipple in his mouth, his hand coming up to roll the other between his fingers, causing you to squirm in his touch. “B-baby please…” at this point you don't even know why or what you’re begging for, but you're engulfed in a cloud of pleasure as Yeosang continues to tease the buds, releasing the one from his mouth with a soft pop, “Patience pretty… a body like yours takes time to tend to… need you to see just how fucking perfect you are..” He smirks against your skin as he places more kisses on your body, he settles between your legs as his eyes look up at you “so wet for me..” as he places a chaste kiss to your clothed core, causing you to whimper.

With a smirk against your skin he hooks his fingers into your panties as he slides them down your legs, tossing them somewhere in the room as he lets out a groan under his breath as he leans in, pressing teasing kisses to your core, causing you to moan. Yeosang hooks his muscular arms around your thighs as he pulls your fold apart revealing your sex to him he watches as you clench around nothing before licking a stripe up from your entrance and finally focusing on your clit. With his firm hold on your lower half he latches onto the sensitive nub as he tongue skillfully works at it, causing that familiar warmth to pool in your lower tummy.

“Yeos… Yeosangie… feels so good” you manage to choke out as he hums causing you to arch your back, finding his blonde locks once again trying to ground yourself, but the man between your legs is making it increasingly difficult to focus on anything, You feel the band getting tighter in your stomach threatening to snap as he continues to lap your clit. “Sangie.. S’close..” you manage to choke out as a warning to which he grips onto you, humming against you once more triggering your release as you arch your back into him as your orgasm washes over you.

Yeosang does not let up however, tongue continuing to work you through your release, smirking against your core as he continues to lap up your juices. “Y-Yeosang!” you scream out as you try to squirm away, being driven into overstimulation he only pins you to the bed with his arm across your lower belly, “Not yet pretty… taste too good.”

You fall back against the bed as the heat begins to pool in your belly again. “Sangie… need you..” is all you manage to whine out, getting the hint, Yeosang moves to insert his fingers as he continues to lap at your core.

“Like that, pretty? Does it feel good?” He chuckles against you as he fingers work you open, curling against that spongy spot with every thrust, mixed with him still lapping at your sensitive nub, you let out a cry as your second orgasm rips through you, gushing fluids down your lovers face and your own thighs. Finally pulling back, he stares back up at you, as you meet his gaze you see your own fluids dripping from his chin and his mouth still wet from your slick as he places soft kisses to your thighs.

He lies next to you and pulls you close, peppering kisses on your shoulder. “You should wear that dress more often, it looks good on you love..”he says as he nestles into your shoulder. “What about you Sangie.. Wanna make you feel good too..” you retort back at him.

“Shh..” he hums in your ear “As long as my baby feels good… I feel good.” placing one more kiss to the underside of your ear.

A/N: "We know sangie is a messy eater... what if he ate pussy the same way?" @jyunhosbby ... Thank you for the Yeosang brain rot.

#yeosang #kang yeosang #yeosang smut #ateez smut #atz smut #atz yeosang #atz yeosang smut #yeosang x reader #ateez x chubby reader #yeosang x chubby reader

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permanentswaps · 3 months

Text

The Party Pt. 3

Inspired by @swapping-caps1-deactivated20220 The Party Pt. 1 and The Party Pt. 2

Oct. 31st Halloween 9:00 PM:

Mr. Thompson POV:

Approaching the Sigma Chi house with Xander, the pulsating bass reverberated through the street. A sea of people in funny costumes walked towards the entrance. I guess we were the only ones to get the message to show off tonight.

Flashing a smirk at Xander, I asked, "Are you ready?"

"Let's do this," he said.

Entering the house, we turned just about every head in the room. We attracted jealous stares from some of the frat guys and lustful looks from everyone else. Our destination was clear - the beer pong table.

Effortlessly sinking shots, we quickly found ourselves enjoying a pleasant buzz. Before I knew it, Xander and I had won 5 games. Xander, feeling the effects, started to get a bit handsy. Running his fingertips around my sweaty bare torso, and flirted, "Hey, you're on fire tonight," before biting his lip and turning away.

I shot him a playful "you're crazy, dude" as I blushed and then turned to the table, sinking my next shot.

Eventually, we migrated to the dance floor. As I danced, I could feel the lights playing across my face and the strength of Mitchell's body coursing through my veins. For the second time today, I looked down at my body and thought to myself “this is my body.”

Xander, Spiderman costume that clinging to his pumped-up muscles, danced up next to me. He flashed me a goofy smile as he playfully grabbed my bicep. He looked irresistibly cute.

Teasing him a bit, I flexed my arm, causing his hand to loosen its grip. Then, I reached down and pulled his waist toward me with one hand as I reached behind his neck with the other. Shocked for a moment, his lips were frozen, before he then pushed them back against mine as we hungrily embraced.

"Wow, I didn't think you swung that way," he said, almost out of breath, "but you have no idea how long I've wanted you to do that."

Looking back at him with a cocky smile, I replied, "I can't believe I waited so long … and I've got more surprises in store for you tonight."

Mitchell POV:

Freaking out, I couldn't shake the feeling that things were spiraling out of control. Racing towards campus, I pushed my car's limits, the clock read 11:03 pm. I know my dad had said that he would swap me back when I finished all my work, but I don’t think we had time for that. The old folklore story said that the swap could be permanent if it lasted longer than 24 hours. I don’t know exactly when my dad swapped us, but I couldn’t have that much longer.

Arriving on campus, I rushed towards the Sigma Chi house. Bursting through the door, I quickly scanned the room, desperately looking for my dad or Xander. The sea of costumes made it challenging, and I had no idea what my dad would be wearing.

Amidst the laughter and thumping music, I couldn't spot them. Panic set in as I weaved through the crowd, desperately searching. Every passing moment heightened the urgency.

Suddenly, a frat bro stepped into my path. "Hey, old man, what are you doing here?" he sneered.

"I'm just looking for someone," I replied, trying to maintain composure and look around behind him.

He laughed mockingly, "I don’t think you’re on the guest list. Get lost, grandpa!"

Frustration bubbled within me, but I kept my cool. The frat bro, with a smug grin, pushed me towards the exit.

The door slammed shut behind me. leaving me standing outside in the cool fall night. Time was slipping away, and the unsettling realization that I might be trapped in this body forever.

Mr. Thompson POV:

After a few crazy hours at the Sigma Chi house, Xander and I decided to make our way back to his apartment. Stumbling through the doorway, we quickly made our way towards his bedroom.

Xander, still in his Spiderman costume, turned to me with a mischievous grin. "Well, well, well, look who's ready for more surprises," he said, his voice low and suggestive.

"I did promise you more surprises, didn't I?" I replied, pulling him in for another kiss.

As we tumbled onto the bed, Xander traced his fingertips across my chest, playfully circling them around my nipples.

I quickly peeled off his costume, leaving him in just his briefs before straddling over him in the bed. Bending down to make out with him again, I moved one hand to the elastic strap around his waist, slowly teasing it before finally taking off his underwear and then my own.

I reached down for my pants, which I had discarded on this floor, and fished out a condom. As I went to unwrap it, Xander looks up to me and says, “No need. Tonight, I want all of you.”

Greedily, I rubbed my uncut cock against his hole, lubed with precum and spit. As I slid myself in, I stared thrusting in long, slow strokes, whispering to him “fuck yeah baby, you’re so hot.”

It wasn’t long until I started to feel a familiar pressure growing in my cock. Just as Xander was about to push me over the edge, I activated my power. Suddenly, a familiar surge of energy burst out of my chest towards Xander’s body. Simultaneously, he felt himself launch into my body.

Now, from our new perspectives, I looked up at my face and gave the same cute smirk that had been driving me crazy all night. That was enough to send us both into a powerful orgasm. I felt Xander instinctively bend down and give me a kiss as he coated the inside of my borrowed hole.

Basking in the afterglow, I quickly swapped us back and laid down next to Xander, stroking the inside of his thigh.

“What was that?” he asked.

“Oh, just a little something I picked up from my father,” I responded. “We come from a long line of swappers.”

Xander, still confused, looked back at me.

“You were so sexy, I thought you deserved to know what it was like.” I flirted. “But I’ll be sure to ask you next time.

“Next time?” he said inquisitively. “Well, I like the sound of that.”

As Xander snuggled back up to little spoon me, I reached around his waist and gently kissed his neck. “I thought you might,” I said.

What he didn’t know was that that I locked in my future in this sexy body. You see, the folklore says, “In worst situations, swapper may never return to there original body especially if the swap last longer than 24 hours.” That’s true alright.

However, what the men in my family also found is that, if the swapper swaps with a third person while they were already swapped, they cannot return to their original body ever again.

As Xander and I drifted off to sleep, I reveled in my new sexy form. I thought to myself “this is my body now, and I deserve every inch of it.”

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scaredpigeons · 8 months

Text

“Let me look at you.”

kaveh x fem!reader

Nsfw 18+ MDNI. Smut. Pussy inspection, teasing, light oral (fem receiving) Kaveh’s a bit mean, but not really and we like it. Established relationship, childhood friends to lovers, yes you both live in Alhaitham’s house still cuz I’ll never separate my otp

———————

You hear the rattle of a doorknob, unable to open.

Then a thud, as if something hit the door.

“Darling?” Kaveh’s frustration leaked into his voice. “Are you in there? I forgot my keys again.”

You smiled, and rose from the sofa to open the door. Your sweet Kaveh stood in the doorway, shoulders slumped and white knuckling his mechanical toolbox, looking at you miserably through his brows.

“Welcome home,” you stepped aside, allowing him to trudge into the entrance. “ I would ask how your day was…”

“You would not believe the day I’ve had. I don’t even want to repeat some of the atrocities I had to witness today, let alone the absolute crimes against art as a whole— and I had to just sit there and let him drone on and on!— AND regardless of my experience and clear expertise on the subject, this—this monster absolutely refused to budge on— seriously my love, who in their right mind requests five inch thick mullions on stunning lancet arched windows?! The man's wife wanted them to be Sumerian rose stained glass— which I already ordered the exact amount for, at double the usual rate so they could have it installed in time for their daughter's birthday— and suddenly the man wants mullions?!”

Your romantic relationship with Kaveh might have been fresh, but being friends with him since childhood gave you plenty of experience with these kinds of moods. You knew this spiral would only ruin his evening, and if left to fester it would consume his entire month.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You asked timidly, not wanting to send him into another rant, but not wanting your silence to convince him you don’t care.

Kaveh huffed, and turned towards you. “Unless you can tell this imbecile of a client that—“ He paused, actually looking at you for the first time since he walked into the house.

Since moving in with him and Alhaitham, you’d certainly made yourself comfortable in the space.

The house had little pieces of you scattered here and there; a lavender throw pillow on your favorite couch, new mugs in the cupboard, a framed photo of the three of you from your last trip to the desert—smiling and laughing in the sun while camped at an oasis, but nothing showed how comfortable you were there more than how you dressed around the house.

When the two of you became adults, you rarely ever saw each other outside of the akadeymia and Lambads tavern, so respectable formal wear was what you wore often. When you started coming over and rekindling your bond with Kaveh, you wanted to impress him, to be attractive to him, so you always dressed your best, always done up. But now…

He gazed longingly at your thighs peeking out from beneath one of his oversized shirts, buttons only done up halfway so that the majority of your chest was visible, placed to just cover your nipples in case someone came home during the day. Your hair was pinned back away from your face using a multitude of his own hair pins, and your face glowed as if it was recently washed.

You were the pinnacle of beauty to Kaveh. So comfortable in his life— like you were meant to be there all along. He sighed, releasing his tight grip on mehrak to let him hover in place just beside him.

“Actually, yes.” He sighed again, releasing the tension in his shoulders as he gestured for you with his arms. “Come here, let me hold you for a moment.”

You smiled sweetly and curled up into his embrace, humming happily as he rested himself at the junction of your neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply and groaning a little beneath his breath.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” He said wistfully.

You giggled, dropping your head to his shoulder to hide your intense blush. “Stop that! I’m supposed to be making you feel better, dummy.”

“Just having you here like this makes me feel a bit better, love.” He pulled back a bit. “Come now, let me look at you, there’s no need to hide.”

Despite your flustered state, you unwrapped yourself from him, cheeks warming even more at the way his eyes raked across your body.

“You like when I look at how beautiful you are, don't you?” He said, holding your hand in his with a gentle squeeze. Though his tone was still gentle, there was something burning beneath his gaze that had warmth pooling into the pit of your stomach.

He grinned then, suddenly a bit mischievous in nature. “You know what would really help me de-stress, love?”

If you hadn’t seen where this was headed before, you certainly knew now— though that didn’t make you any less flustered. Even after so many months, physical intimacy with Kaveh still worked you up just as badly as it had the first time.

“I’ll do anything for you, Kaveh. You know that.” You murmured, cupping your own cheek in embarrassment.

You feel a light pressure around your limbs and waist, and suddenly you are hoisted into the air, hands together above your head and legs spread.

“Wait—what?!” You tried to struggle, but the grip that he had mehrak put you in was unshakable. You’d seen Kaveh use this function with mehrak countless times; to swing his claymore, to move building materials, but never once had you seen it used on anyone else. “K-Kaveh! What are y-you doing?!”

His head appeared between your legs, though he was still standing, and you could see now why he had hoisted you so high into the air.

“Just stay still for me, yeah? I want to look at you.”

“B-but—“

You were silenced by his long, cool fingers pushing his shirt from where it covered you, and your legs spread even wider, exposing you in your entirety to him. He smiled as he hooked his fingers into your panties, sliding them down your thighs and onto the floor at his feet.

You continued to squirm as your face bloomed with heat, trying to look away but entranced to watch him as he spread you apart, looking at your center with intense eyes.

He wiggles your labia around a bit, spreading you open and watching as the strands of your slick glisten between them.

He’s torturing you. Eyes never leaving your cunt as he gently thumbs at your clit, watching it twitch and relishing the moans you can’t bite back.

The teasing makes you ache, it makes pressure form behind your glossy eyes and deep inside you somewhere shameful. You can feel yourself clenching around nothing as he toys with you, poking and rubbing here and there as if to make sure his eyes don’t miss a single part of you.

He sees you struggling, and a laugh emerges— light and airy from his chest.

“Please… you’re teasing too much this time, Kaveh.” You manage to whimper.

“Oh?” He says, eyes still unwavering from your leaking hole. “What is it you want, my love?”

You keened, so frustrated with his not-enough-touches and the fact that he’s making you say it. You tried wiggling from the hold on you once more, but it only served to satisfy him more.

“Please!” You begged. “Please make me cum!” Your blush burned. You couldn’t take it anymore. You needed him, to feel him.

He hummed contently at your cries, finally looking up at you. His gaze burned with a lust so intense you don’t think you’ve seen it since the first time you ever shared your bodies with one another. It was an all consuming flame, and unlike the first time— this one didn’t startle you.

Kavehs passion was one of his best qualities, and seeing it take on this form, this desire for you— to have you, to make you his— was something you came to crave.

“Not yet.” He said. Tone leaning towards condescending. “I’m busy looking. You’ll let me keep looking, right?”

His gaze trailed back down your body to your aching core, where he continued to run his fingers along your folds, eyes heavy with lust at the slick he touched there.

“After all,” he said. “You're so very pretty, and you know how stressed I get. And playing with this pretty pussy of my very own helps sooo much, you know that dont you?”

His words were dripping in sex—in demeaning condescension, and you were about to explode because of it. You squirmed and struggled more, moaning and crying out at the weight of his heavy gaze, and the lightness of his thumb across your clit. It throbbed, sending waves of need up your limbs and making your hips buck against his touch.

“I really enjoy playing with you like this,” He said darkly. Times like these were the only moments Kaveh ever spoke down to you. He was typically very doting, loving, and non confrontational when it came to your relationship. But when you hear his voice sink like this, hear him speak as if he owns you, it sends your brain into overdrive.

Finally, finally he brings his tongue up your center, taking a nice firm lick from your clenching hole to your aching clit. He seems to add just the tiniest bit more pressure as his tongue rakes over your clit, and you squeal.

A low, shuddering orgasm overtakes you, and you crumple into it, trying to milk it for all its worth. You’re shocked that he keeps his tongue gently moving over your clit when he realizes what’s happening though he never moves to make it more intense. He works you through it gently, drinking up your cries of pleasure. Your clit throbs dully with each wave of your orgasm, and right before it becomes something closer to painful, he stops.

His large hands grip your thighs, and he watches as you continue to twitch with the aftershocks. He watches your orgasm subside, and laughs when you start to squirm needingly so soon after.

“Awe, poor sweet thing. Not enough?”

Your fucked out expression was nearly enough to break him. Tears streamed down your flushed cheeks, your eyelids drooped and heavy from the aftermath, but still sparkling with lust from the need for more.

Truly, Kaveh never felt more blessed than when in these moments with you, and he truly couldn’t even remember the specifics of what exactly had made him so unhappy in the first place.

He was sure he’d remember eventually, and go back to having more work to do, but for now, he’d rather just enjoy the fire you’ve brought from within him.

“Alright, alright.” He smiled. “I wasn’t done with you yet anyways.”

#genshin impact smut #smut #genshin smut #kaveh smut #kaveh x reader #kaveh x reader smut #kaveh

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lowkeychenle · 2 months

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Is It Over Now? [ZCL/PJS] (M)

Description: Your relationship with Chenle is nothing but fight after fight. Amidst the toxicity, infidelity comes into play--except you're determined to one up him...but is it ever truly over?

A/N: this is inspired by Taylor Swift's Is It Over Now? and I highly recommend listening to it because omg...but also...keep in mind this poll and this poll determined the trajectory of this fic LOL

Genre: Smut/Angst

Content Warnings: This is very dirty idk y'all i'msosorry...but basically content warnings are infidelity (both reader & chenle, explicit on reader's part), some very crazy arguments (there are no physical fights but these can be triggering), explicit, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, use of pet names: baby, pretty girl, slut, whore (once maybe), and any variation of those. Buckle up y'all, this one is kinda crazy. Also kinda open ended sawry

Word Count: 11,198

Taglist: @nominsgirl @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @chezziy

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x fem!Reader | Park Jisung x fem!Reader

Juliet's Masterlist | Tell me what you think? :)

You know exactly where everything went wrong.

It’s what led you to the current situation you’re in—on top of one of your boyfriend’s closest friends with his hands all over you. Anger burns in your bones, and if you were capable of it any longer, you’d be crushed to dust at this point.

The roll of your hips causes a curse to fall from Jisung’s mouth. He grips your ass, the rough fabric of your jeans catching on his nails. The man under you is just as pissed as you are, and some sick form of revenge clouds both of your brains. He sinks his teeth into your bottom and tugs. If you’d felt at all guilty when you started this, it’s long gone now.

At least you and Jisung won’t be caught together in public.

“He’s a fucking idiot,” Jisung hisses under his breath as you continue to grind on him.

You chuckle. “I know. It’s not the fucking first time either.”

He pulls away from you, eyebrows furrowed as he looks at you. The passion has all but melted from his face, but both of you are left panting.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he asks.

“I thought you knew.” The last thing you wanted was for this to be an emotional encounter, and if you let yourself think of how you trusted your boyfriend again after the first time he cheated, resentment will turn to pain. No. You fucking refuse.

“I would’ve told you,” Jisung continues, hand sliding up from your ass to the small of your back. “You really think I would’ve kept that from you?”

“All due respect, Jisung, but I’m not looking for a heart-to-heart right now.”

His jaw tightens, and the care resounds in his eyes, but he nods and reaches up to grip the back of your neck. He kisses you harder this time, his tongue dancing with yours as he starts unbuttoning your shirt. The fabric is silky against your skin, and feeling him so close to you has your fragmented heart racing in your chest and chills spiraling down your spine.

“Hurry up,” you tell him. “He’ll be home soon.”

In response, he tugs instead, and the remaining buttons pop open before he pushes your blouse off your shoulders. You have a clear view of the door this way, where you and Jisung sit at the edge of your bed. Climbing off his lap, you shuffle out of your jeans. You watch as Jisung takes his own off, the prominent bulge of his length straining against his boxers.

A swirl of doubt punches you in the gut, and for a moment, you’re winded. Does the hurt Chenle caused you justify this? Should you be choosing this route instead of just leaving?

“You can change your mind,” Jisung says, shuffling closer to the edge.

Snapping out of it, you shake your head and straddle his lap. His bottom lip is taken between his teeth as you grasp his length, freeing it from its confines. A haze takes over his eyes, his hips lifting into your fist.

You move your panties aside and line him up with your entrance. He inhales sharply.

“Fuck, hold on.” He grips your hips. “It might hurt if you don’t let me—”

“Promise you it can’t be any fucking worse than what I’m already going through.” You pause. “Condom? I’m clean and on birth control, so it’s up to you.”

“I’m clean, too.” He nods. “Raw is fine. Good.”

You laugh at the awkwardness, but begin your descent anyway. A moan gets caught in your throat as you struggle to fit him further. Your walls pulse around his cock, and an exhilarating adrenaline makes you feel higher than you’ve ever been. This life wasn’t what you imagined.

You never thought your boyfriend would be capable of sleeping with anyone else, and neither did you think you would be. Yet, here you are, following in Chenle’s footsteps. Jisung was probably a shitty move on your part. At least Chenle wasn’t fucking your friends, but you wanted to make sure he felt your pain—if he’ll even care at all.

Once he’s completely inside you, you grip onto his shoulders, your body trembling. To ease you, he reaches down and thumbs your clit. He kisses your neck, nudging one of your bra straps down your arm. You let out a sigh of pleasure, rolling your hips.

“Yeah, he’s fucking stupid.” Jisung hums into your skin, squeezing your ass. “You…fuck, you feel good.”

“Hope it was all worth it for him,” you mumble, slowly starting to lift your hips up.

He assists you in your pace, an arm around your waist to help. After a few moments, the awkward stretch becomes pleasure. You curse under your breath and pick up your pace, eyes rolling back as he thrusts up to match you.

Each movement of his is punctuated by short, low groans, and your entire being tingles from how deep he is inside you, how this is somehow a signal of your freedom. His tip presses against your cervix and you cry out.

Jisung slaps your ass, and the desperate tug inside you to speed up becomes too much to ignore. In your delirium, you almost miss Chenle standing in the doorway. Maybe you’re imagining it, but as you fuck yourself on Jisung’s cock, you stare right at him, a weak laugh escaping your lips.

You roughly tangle your fingers in Jisung’s hair—something you know drives Chenle crazy when you do it to him—and tug him up to kiss you, moving your hips faster. The other man’s presence just spurs you forward.

Jisung’s fingers connect with your clit again, and your broken moan and blurry vision almost make you miss the way Chenle’s jaw tightens. Your orgasm takes you by surprise, slamming you into a wall of pleasure as you spasm on top of Jisung. Right before your eyesight fails you completely, you see Chenle walk away.

Jisung spills inside you, coating your walls with white. You kiss him hard, panting as you lift yourself off him. He’s dazed, but eventually settles himself back in his boxers before getting up for his jeans. You redress, knowing full well Chenle’s waiting in the kitchen. It’ll most likely be an argument, but you can’t help the adrenaline flowing through your veins at the thought.

Jisung is still blissfully unaware Chenle’s in the house, so when he pulls you in for a kiss, you sigh. You grab his hand and lead him out of your bedroom, and the sight of the other man gripping the counter makes him freeze.

Chenle downs the rest of whatever’s in his cup—it’s safe to assume what the bronze liquid is as he swallows and cringes. He doesn’t look at either of you.

“You should go.” Glancing at Jisung, you catch the worried gleam in his gaze.

“Will you be okay?” he asks.

“The fuck does that mean?” Chenle snaps. “Get the fuck out, Jisung.”

“Call me if you need me.” Jisung hesitantly leaves your side, and once the door closes behind him, you slide your hands in the back pockets of your jeans.

“Really?” Chenle finally breaks the silence. “You could’ve picked anyone, and you fuck Jisung?”

“That’s what you’re mad about?” You snort and walk over to the fridge to grab a water bottle. Untwisting the cap, you turn back to Chenle, unaccustomed to his glare being directed at you. “What? It’s okay for you to fuck anyone you want, but when I do it, it’s wrong?”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I don’t fuck anyone but you.”

“You really think I didn’t see that?” You shake your head, anger bubbling in the pit of your stomach. “There were pictures, you dumbass. And now I can’t even act like I’m ignorant. I can’t act like you love me anymore, Chenle. Be serious right now.”

“Oh, right, because being seen with a girl has to mean I’m fucking her, yeah?” He runs his fingers through his hair. “You’re just insecure, (Y/N), and I can’t fucking help you with that. Did you think fucking Jisung would make me want you more? May as well add crazy to the list, too.”

Under different circumstances, you know those words would kill you. They’d be like bullets fragmenting in your heart, but today? For some reason, everything shut off. You don’t want him anymore, and your irritation sparks at the base of your spine.

“You putting this on me is fucking hilarious.” Your voice is sharp, and you hope you return his bullets as knives.

“We’re fucked.” He pours more liquor into his glass, a scowl on his face as he downs it. “Are you kidding me? I make a mistake one time, and you go out of your way to screw my friend? Did you think you could hurt me or something?”

“Don’t know.” You shrug.

“The sooner you admit we were over long before I ever slept with anyone else, the easier it’ll be for both of us. You’re being a child by inviting Jisung over here.” His grip on the counter tightens.

And just like that, something inside you snaps.

“You did this, Chenle. You fucked up, you ruined everything, you are a piece of shit.” You jab your finger in his direction. “At least I had the decency not to get caught in public. You don’t even care at all. Not even a little bit. And it’s so fucking frustrating because I do everything for you.”

“Bullshit,” he says.

“Was it over when you brought that girl here? Was it? Because you cried and begged for me to stay. You said it was a mistake, and you’d never be able to love anyone the same way you love me. You really think it was over, Chenle? Then what the fuck are you still doing here?”

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

“You fucking did it again!” you yell, hands tugging at your hair. “You want me to be the bad guy so bad, but all of this is on you. The blame is on you. You’re the one that can’t keep it in your pants. What are you searching all these beds for, huh? You want something better than me?”

“Fuck,” he shouts, hand swiping across the counter.

Time slows as his palm comes in contact with his glass, as he sends it flying into the cabinet, as it shatters beneath his force. How fucking ironic you relate to it.

Your chest heaves, your heart twisting harshly. How did you get here? How did love turn into something so fucking awful, you can’t stand looking at him? The silence is deafening after the shards scatter onto the floor.

The visceral reaction you get surprises even you. You tilt your head back, your body shaking with laughter.

“You’re so pathetic.” Tears well in your eyes, but the laughs cause you to run out of air. You grip onto the counter. “I fucking hate you. I hate you.”

“(Y/N), I’m—”

“Sorry?” Another bout of giggles passes through your lips. “I don’t care. Don’t you get that now? I hate you and I don’t fucking care what you have to say.”

“Baby, don’t—”

“You said it was over, Chenle. Is it over now? Because I’m done…I’m so done, and I don’t want to look at you anymore. Get the fuck out of my house, and I never want to see you again. I fucking mean it.”

“I’m sorry. Please don’t do this. She didn’t mean anything, and I know Jisung doesn’t mean anything to you, either.” He steps closer to you, glass crunching beneath his feet.

“Should’ve thought about that before you did it again. Leave.” After a few moments of him standing there like a statue, you shout, “Get the fuck out!”

Your throat is raw from yelling, and you’re halfway certain he’s not going to listen to you. He doesn’t usually, but as bad as your fights have gotten, they haven’t quite been this bad. With thousands of emotions written across his face like poetry, he brushes his shirt off and storms past you, slamming the door behind him without one glance back.

Your heart pounds in your chest, each thump hurting more than the last. Nausea takes you by storm, and you’d collapse if you weren’t leaning on the counter for support. You don’t even know who to call. Nobody you know takes care of you better than Chenle does after moments like these, and as your shortness of breath takes over full swing, you turn and sink down to the floor.

But the first step to quitting a drug is to stop supplying it to your bloodstream. To feel the numb of the high seeping away while the pain comes rushing back.

The tears you refused to allow earlier pour down your cheeks, and you drop your head back against the cupboard. Glass gleams next to you, twinkling innocently in the light of your kitchen. Through your blurry vision, it’s almost beautiful—an array of lights in the darkness that plagues your home.

When you grab your phone, you don’t know who’s number you call. You press it to your ear and pray it’s not Chenle.

“(Y/N)?” Jisung’s voice filters through immediately, and it makes your body wrack with another sob.

“Are you far?” you ask, voice thick and warbled.

“Not at all,” he offers instantly. “Do you want me to come back?”

You close your eyes and sniffle. “Please.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in five minutes. Are you okay?” The hint of panic laced in his tone has new tears forming.

“Don’t know.” You wipe your face. “I don’t fucking know.”

However long it takes him to get there, you’re unsure. The next thing you recall, Jisung crouches in front of you, eyes wide with concern. Guilt sinks into your stomach and twists it around, and you look up at him like he’s the key to making you feel better.

“I’m so sorry,” you breathe out. “I’m sorry, Sungie, I don’t know why I did that to you. To him. I—”

“Hey, don’t worry about that right now.” His deep voice resonates in your chest, and it works to calm you slightly. He cups your cheeks and guides you up to make eye contact. “Are you hurt? There’s glass everywhere.”

You shake your head. “He wouldn’t.”

“There are a whole lot of things I thought he wouldn’t do. I have to make sure. Can you stand? Let’s get you away from all this.” He leads you to your feet, bringing you into your bedroom.

A few moments of silence pass as he helps you into your bed.

“Just get some rest, okay?” he whispers, his hands cupping your face.

“Where are you going?” you ask. “Don’t go, please.” You hold onto his wrist as if that’ll keep him with you.

“I’m just gonna clean up your kitchen,” he replies. “I won’t leave unless you want me to.”

You take a deep breath. “Can you stay for a few more minutes? I don’t wanna be alone right now.”

“Whatever you need. I’m here for you.”

You scoot over and glance at the spot next to you, and he obliges with your request. Both of you slide beneath the covers, and you turn to face him before burying your head in his chest. He cradles you closer to him, his warmth calming you slowly.

“Is this okay?” he murmurs.

His heart thumps erratically in his chest as he holds you, but the sound still manages to soothe you.

“Yeah,” you tell him, shuffling closer. “Thank you.”

He hums in response and presses his lips gently against your hairline. There are so many things wrong with your situation and your life, but for once, you feel a real equilibrium. Despite the pain wrenching away at your heart from the weight of Chenle’s absence, you find that all over again with Jisung’s firm grip on you.

Usually, when you and Chenle get into your arguments, the longest he goes without contacting you is two days. You’re now bordering on three and a half weeks, and the thought of him still makes you sick to your stomach. You haven’t heard a single word from him. Hell, you wouldn’t even know if he’s alive.

Jisung has become more of a rock than anything else. He’s equally as disappointed in Chenle as you are at this point, but he makes it a point to stay with you as much as he can. Today, for example, things are quiet. Peaceful. Your few weeks with Jisung have been so…different. You and Chenle couldn’t go more than a few days without an explosive argument, and now you haven’t raised your voice in all this time.

Jisung is soft. Kind, even. He shows you the side of himself you wish Chenle could’ve been before your relationship blew up into smithereens.

Your head rests on his shoulder, his fingers playing with your hair while his eyes are engrossed by the television screen in front of you. The lights are off, the sky is dark, but the gentle blues and greens illuminate the softness of his features.

“Sungie,” you whisper in an attempt to garner his attention.

He turns to you, his eyebrows raised. “Hm?”

“Why are you doing this for me?” you ask. “He’s your best friend.”

“He was.” Jisung nods. “And it sucks. But I’m not going to be friends with someone who treats people who love them like shit. You deserve so much more than that, (Y/N), really. He—what he did was fucked up.”

“I did it, too.” You shrug, fighting the way tears threaten to form in your eyes.

He wets his lips. “Yeah, but only after he did it twice.”

“That makes it okay?”

“No.” Jisung looks down at his lap, his hands fidgeting. “No, it doesn’t. But you were hurting and you retaliated in a way you thought would hurt him back. I would’ve done the same thing in your position.”

“You seriously had no idea what he was doing?” you ask.

“I didn’t have a fucking clue. He knows I would’ve told you immediately.” He sighs.

“Do you care about me?” You tilt your head at him, scanning over his face for any indication of annoyance. Anything that might tip you off that he’ll get angry with you.

He blinks once, a miniscule smile pulling at his mouth. “Of course, I do. I’d do anything for you.”

“Anything?”

He nods.

“Will you…will you kiss me?”

His jaw drops as he flounders for something to say. “That…”

“I’ll be honest with you, Sungie. My relationship with Chenle has been fucked for a really long time. I can’t remember the last time I meant it when I told him I loved him. But…I do. Love him. Miss him. It hurts like hell knowing he’s probably okay right now, with some other girl like I never mattered to him.” You inhale deeply, and your exhale shakes. “He’s all I’ve ever known. I just…want to make sure I can feel. That he didn’t get to keep all of that when he left.”

“And kissing me will do what?” He taps his fingers on his thighs. “What if it just makes you want him more?”

“I can’t. Going back to him is…I can’t do it again. But I need to know I can still function if he’s not the one…” you trail off, deflating entirely. “Nevermind. I’m sorry I asked, okay? I’m being ridiculous.”

You avoid his gaze entirely, staring off in the opposite direction. With Chenle, every touch, every kiss, every intimate moment was a direct result of something negative. It didn’t start that way, but it sure ended up there. Your mouths only met in anger after spewing hate at each other, and you’re not sure what a real, loving kiss feels like anymore.

Jisung reaches up and cups your cheek, directing your gaze back to his. His eyes dip down toward your lips, and your breath catches in your chest. It’s been so long since your heart has fluttered, but he makes it look so damn easy.

“You sure?”

The TV is long forgotten as you nod, your anticipation growing as he draws nearer. You forget to breathe, and once his lips brush yours, you gasp.

You close the last of the distance, the idea of being so close to him—to someone motivating you further. Kissing Jisung is worlds different from kissing Chenle. From the tenderness of his touch to the shape of his lips, not a single thing about him is reminiscent of Chenle. For some reason, disappointment weighs heavily on your chest.

But being with him is better than being alone, and you can’t deny the attraction being there. You remember the way he felt inside you, how he reached spots you didn’t know existed. You tangle your fingers in his hair, groaning against him.

“Jisung.” It comes out more as a whimper than anything else, and he freezes.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath.

Without another moment of hesitation, you throw your leg over his lap and straddle him, slowly sinking down until you feel him pressed against you. He grasps onto the back of your shirt.

“Are you thinking about it, too?” you ask, leaning in to kiss along his neck.

He gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I probably shouldn’t be.”

“Why not?” You lean back, placing your hands on his shoulders. “Is this weird for you?”

“Um.” He grips your thigh tightly, lips parting as he tries to think of what to say. “Not because of him, if that’s what you mean.”

Your chest tightens at the mention of Chenle, even without his name. Jisung agreed to be with you once, and you’re not sure if he was fueled by any attraction to you at all.

“All I’m saying is that I don’t want to push you into something you’re not ready for. When I tell you I don’t want to hurt you, I mean it.” He pauses, analyzing you. “C’mon, you’ve gotta know I want you.”

He pulls you closer to him, and your breath hitches when you feel how hard he is.

“I want you. But I need to be sure it’s really me you want.”

Your heart sinks. “Now you mean Chenle.”

“It’s not a bad thing, (Y/N). I get it. You’ve been through a lot with him and you have a bond I might not understand. That’s fine. But if we’re going to start something, it can’t be when you’re confused.” He runs his thumb along your bottom lip, unashamed as he stares at your mouth.

“I’m not confused, Sungie.” You shake your head. “I don’t want him anymore. When I said I was done, I meant it.”

“It’s okay either way. You were with him for a long time. It’s normal to hurt over stuff like this.” Jisung gives you a small smile.

“If you don’t want to right now, we can stop,” you tell him. “But it’s you I want. I promise.”

His fingers weave into your hair, inching you nearer to him. Right before your mouths meet, his gaze meets yours.

“I hope you know how many good things you deserve,” he mutters.

And then he kisses you, the softness of it taking you off guard. You melt into him, and despite hating how you notice the difference between him and Chenle again, you realize you might like this more than what you had before. It’s been so long since the person who was supposed to love you actually cared.

When his tongue meets yours, you sigh and hold onto him. He gets lost in you, hands gripping your hips to guide you back and forth on top of him. Even through layers of clothing, you feel how hard he is.

When a knock sounds on your door, you resolve to ignore it. You don’t care about whatever or whoever’s out there if you have Jisung. He tries to pull away, but you whine.

“Ignore it,” you tell him, your mouth still against his. “Ignore it. Please don’t stop.”

As soon as he kisses you again, a louder rapping noise follows, and you groan, dropping your head on his shoulder.

“You want me to get it?” he asks.

You shake your head, grumbling as you slide off his lap. “I got it.”

Without another word, you ignore the dampness between your legs and head over to your door with one last glance over your shoulder at Jisung. When you open it and see who’s standing outside, you recoil hard.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You’re not sure why you’re even entertaining this at all. Chenle stands before you, his eyebrows pinched together as he formulates his response. As to not alert Jisung of his presence, you keep your voice down.

“It’s been weeks and I haven’t heard from you.” He sighs. “I know we fought, but we never go this long without talking. I miss you.”

You don’t mean to laugh, but you do anyway. “You don’t miss me. I already told you we’re done. And I meant it this time, Chenle. You have to leave.”

“Why aren’t you letting me in?” He snorts. “Be fucking for real, we always end up right where we started. This time isn’t any different.”

“It is, though.” You pause, running your fingers through your hair. “I’m done. Honestly, if I never see you again, I’ll be better off.”

“You don’t really mean that.” He frowns.

“Yes, I do.”

“You can’t get mad at me for what I did when you did the exact same thing. We’ll call it even and start over.” Chenle stops, gaze mapping out every inch of you before he continues. “Why do you look like that?”

“Excuse me? Look like what?”

“Your face is all red, and your hair is messed up—” Whatever interrupts him has irritation creating a scowl on his face.

You’re only confused for a second before an arm wraps around your waist, fingers tapping against your hip. Heart twisting, you gape as you glance between Jisung and Chenle. Nerves eat away at you since you’re not sure what the latter will do, but you grasp onto Jisung’s wrist.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Chenle lets out a short chuckle, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re both fucking insane.”

His words alone are almost enough to make you want to remove yourself from Jisung’s hold, but you know you’re safest right where you’re at.

But seeing Chenle in front of you again for the first time in weeks has you yearning for him. To kiss him, to hear him laugh, to simply just have someone who loves you. You have to keep reminding yourself that he doesn’t. Love hasn’t been in the equation for much too long.

“Let her go.” Chenle practically stares into Jisung’s soul. “See if she still wants you when you’re not holding her away from me.”

Jisung tenses behind you, and the hesitation behind his touch leaving you can only mean one thing—he believes him. He’s worried what Chenle is saying is true. That you’ll never want him in the same way you want Chenle.

Chenle’s gaze, so painfully familiar, settles on yours. Your heart sinks into your stomach as you recognize what this is.

It’s the beginning of the cycle.

It’s how he tricks you into thinking he’ll be better for you.

In his eyes, he begs you to come back to him. He makes you think that maybe, just maybe, he’ll finally be what you’ve wanted him to be. What you needed him to be.

“C’mon, baby, we’ll forget this ever happened. I don’t blame you for being lonely and needing someone. He was just there. I know.”

Through your peripheral vision, you see Jisung’s fist clench at his side. The longer you stay silent, the more nervous the man behind you becomes. Your insides are at war. Not even ten minutes ago, you were sure you wanted Jisung. You had been reassuring him of that.

Now, seeing Chenle again for the first time in weeks, you’re practically weak in the knees. You want him, but not the man you’ve grown used to. You want who he used to be in the beginning—the person who loved you endlessly, who always put you first, who never went out of his way to hurt you in order to make you small enough to want him back.

No.

Because 491 days ago, he broke your heart for the first time. He was never going to admit to you what he did. Instead, he hid it, and the only reason you found out was through a text message that came through when he was showing you something on his phone.

You’re tired of it. Of being hurt and picking up shattered glass when he doesn’t want to be called out for his shitty actions.

“You’re wrong,” you mumble, terrified of the words leaving your mouth. After all, this means he’ll be gone for good. You won’t ever love him again. “Jisung wasn’t just there.”

Chenle recoils, narrowing his eyes. “Right. Because you’re suddenly in love with him, huh?”

“I care about him.” You reach back and grab his hand.

“If you pick him right now, you better be damn sure that’s what you want,” he snaps. “You’re making a huge fucking mistake, (Y/N). He’ll never be me.”

“That’s good. I don’t want him to be.” You shake your head. “I meant it when I said I was done.”

He runs his tongue over his teeth before glaring at Jisung. “You’re fucking dead to me. Some friend you are, trying to steal my fucking girl from me. That was your plan the whole time, wasn’t it? You were just waiting for the opportunity to swoop in and save the day.”

“You did this yourself,” Jisung replies. “She wouldn’t be with me if you were enough for her.”

Your chest tightens, preparing for Chenle to retaliate. You squeeze Jisung’s hand, and his thumb rubs over your knuckles. Over the course of your much too long relationship with Chenle, you quickly came to realize how close he and Jisung were. They were best friends, inseparable, really, and now the only thing stopping them from fighting is you. Right in the middle, you stand between them physically and metaphorically.

Instead, Chenle glances up to the ceiling, a laugh escaping him before he turns around without another word and disappears down the hallway. You slap your hand over your mouth when a shaky breath surpasses your lips, quickly reaching forward to shut the door. You lean against it for a moment, resting your forehead on the wood as Jisung stands silent behind you.

“Are you okay?” he whispers. “That was a lot.”

You don’t say anything. Between the way your heart beats at a hundred miles a minute, how your brain swirls, and how your stomach twists, the only thing you can do is suck in a loud, sharp inhale as you fight the urge to bawl your eyes out.

He moves closer to you, putting his hand on your shoulder. The touch sends a pang through your body, and you have to smack him away. Everything is so overwhelming, and knowing Chenle is gone for good is making you question every choice you’ve ever made leading up to this moment.

Once upon a time, you were convinced he was the love of your life. You were sure things were going to be perfect forever, but God, how far from the truth could you have been?

Jisung stays silent while you regain your composure. He waits patiently, but every little sound is amplified in your ears, so the creak of the wood beneath his feet as he rocks back and forth has everything crashing down around you.

You crumble, but somehow in the midst of it, Jisung’s arm wraps around your waist and tugs you close to him so you don’t fall. Fighting your tears, you clench your eyes shut. Over the years you spent with Chenle, you learned never to show how much something could hurt you. Showing emotion to anyone gives them the opportunity to hurt you, and Chenle took it one too many times.

“It’s okay,” Jisung whispers, sinking to the floor with you. “Tell me what you need. I’m here for you.”

You take a shuddering breath, but instead of saying anything, you turn and bury yourself in Jisung’s chest. His heart pounds in rhythm with yours, but he doesn’t seem outwardly anxious. He talks to you softly in an attempt to guide you. You don’t want to put this burden on him. Even then, all you can think about is Chenle, and how everything is over.

All the effort you put in to overcome the problems he created. Every argument you thought was worth it because maybe this one would lead somewhere. Maybe this breakdown would encourage him to change. Maybe this home you created for him would finally be enough.

It never was, and it never will be. How could it? He’s more interested in keeping you just to say he can. Chenle doesn’t love you, and you don’t love him. At least, you don’t think you do.

“I’m sorry,” you say to Jisung, shaking your head. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

“I know.” He cradles you to his chest. “I know. It’s okay, now. It’s all over.”

But for some reason, that alone hurts more than anything Chenle ever said to you.

More days pass. They turn into weeks, and you honestly start to feel like you’ll be okay. This morning especially when you wake up to the sensation of Jisung’s lips on your neck. He hums against your skin, tongue tracing over your pulse.

You’d been nervous to initiate anything with Jisung again, but last night, one thing led to another, and the two of you ended up in bed with your legs around his waist.

Jisung makes you feel safe. You’re not sure what about that makes you crave him so much, but you easily melt into his touch. Pressing yourself closer to his warmth, you run your fingers through his hair.

“How are you feeling?” His voice is deeper in the morning with a slight rasp to it.

“Never been better.” You’re not lying. Everything with him is peaceful.

His hand moves down your side to squeeze your hip, and further until he’s resting on your thigh.

“Sungie,” you mutter.

“Yeah?”

“If you want something, tell me. Teasing isn’t nice.” You put your hand on top of his.

He chuckles, nipping at the base of your neck. “Maybe I just like touching you.”

“There are innocent places to touch.” You move him toward the apex of your thighs, suppressing a shaky breath. “But let’s forget those exist.”

You feel his smirk on your skin, and when he brushes against your clit, you curse quietly. He hooks his ankle with yours to give himself better access, and he finds your entrance already wet.

“You sure it’s me who wanted it?” He tsks.

You open your mouth to respond, but he slides two of his long fingers inside you. A moan escapes instead, and you feel a rush of heat to your cheeks and between your legs. Your brain is still fogged with sleep, which must mean that’s part of why it feels so fucking good. You fall into the pleasure, gripping the sheets in front of you.

“Can’t think of anything else but you,” he whispers, pumping his hand at a steady pace. “How you sound, how you feel, how you taste. Just you.”

Your eyes clench shut as you relish in the way he makes you feel, his gentle movements making you need him that much more. Rocking your hips, you practically melt into him. Something about the early morning sun and still being tired from the night before has you getting closer and closer without much effort from either of you.

His lips brush your ear. “Feel good, baby?”

Your walls clamp down on him, and you let out a moan in response to his question. Butterflies swarm in your stomach, and while you’re desperate to finish, you also wouldn’t mind sitting here like this forever.

“Jisung,” you whine. “Please.”

He tilts your head back and kisses you hard, his thumb finding your clit as he continues. You cry out into his mouth, back arching at the pleasure swirling around you. Your insides twist and turn and you’re only half-sure you’ll ever come down from this.

Unfortunately for you, the high fades as he guides you through it. Once he pulls out of you, you turn to face him. He brings his fingers up to his mouth, cleaning your arousal off as his eyes flutter shut at your taste.

You push his shoulder until he’s flat on his back, and when you straddle his lap, he stares up at you in awe as the blanket falls from your shoulders. Reaching down, you line him up with your entrance. His lips part, and he sucks in a quick breath.

You sink down slowly, thighs shaking as you allow him to fill you. He curses, his nails digging into your hips. The more you take him, the tighter his grip on you becomes. You missed the feeling of this—of being full and seeing the pleasure you could cause someone else.

Once he’s completely buried inside you, he holds you down by your hips, eyebrows furrowed deeply.

“Don’t move yet,” he mutters, voice thick. “God, are you really gonna make me cum just like this?”

Jisung explores every inch of your body, his hands leaving your hips to squeeze your ass, tracing up until he finds your breasts. His thumbs rub against your nipples, and you jolt, doing your best to refrain from taking him the way you want.

“Can I move?” you ask breathlessly. “Please, Sungie.”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Of course, baby, show me how much you want me.”

You heat up at the sound of that, and when his grip loosens on you, you lift yourself up. The slow drag of him against your walls has you wanting to collapse already. He studies you closely, somewhat amused by your struggle to take him completely.

You move through your sensitivity, sinking back down and swiveling your hips. He thrusts up, and the tip of his cock hits your cervix. You whine, opting to continue your pace. As soon as he’s about to slide out of you, you allow him to fill you all over again.

He matches you, fucking up into you when you’ve already taken him halfway. Sounds of your arousal fill the room while he moves inside you, and he lifts his head to watch where he disappears in you.

You’re numbed by the pleasure, so much so that you’re barely able to hear the moans and quiet praises falling from his lips.

He squeezes your breasts, fingers tweaking your nipples. His eyes are everywhere, entranced by everything you are as you fuck yourself on his cock. A band starts to tighten in your stomach, but all you want is to make him feel good.

You grab one of his wrists, tugging down in the hopes he’ll get the idea. He places his palm flat on your stomach as he makes his way down slowly, slowly, smirking as you whine at him.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groans, thumbing your clit in perfect circles.

Your pace falters as you feel the euphoria approaching, unable to keep up. He stops, cursing as you clench hard around him. You let out a frustrated moan but opt to keep bouncing on him through your sensitivity.

“Don’t stop,” he commands. “It’s gonna feel better if you keep going.”

“Jisung, please.” Your walls flutter around him, and when he returns to your sensitive bud, you both know it won’t take long at all.

Your orgasm slams into you, but you force yourself to keep moving. Curses leave your mouth in a string as the knot unravels faster than you thought possible. Your walls clench around him. The tremor in your thighs makes it hard to keep moving, but you refuse to stop until he’s done.

He sits up, pulling you flush against his chest as he thrusts up into you. You bury your head in his neck and hold onto him tightly, the cloud of pleasure enough to make you lightheaded.

Once he’s as deep as he can get, he moans and spills inside you. Both of you pant, sweat making your skin stick together. And then his lips are on yours, soft in contrast with all of the overwhelming feelings happening.

His nails gently drag along your spine as he kisses down your neck.

“(Y/N),” he says.

“Hm?” is all you can muster.

“I really, really like you. A lot.” His mouth brushes against your shoulder. “And…this was probably the worst time to say that. But it’s true.”

“I like you, too.”

He doesn’t see your smile, but you feel his.

“No matter what happens,” he says, inhaling deeply. “Just know I won’t let you down, okay?”

“I know, Sungie.” You wrap your arms around him and pull him closer, still attempting to calm down from your whirlwind. “I trust you.”

He flips you over, holding himself up on his elbows while he presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “Gonna clean you up, okay?”

You hum in response, letting out a sigh when he pulls out of you. Waiting for him to return, you don’t move a muscle, instead, closing your eyes and basking in the feeling of warmth he’s left all over your body.

He cleans up the mess between your legs with a towel, and then he’s climbing back into bed next to you. Tugging you close, he scans over your face.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Is it about him?” You force the words out, but the thought of Chenle at a time like this has your stomach twisting in unpleasant ways. It’s better for you when you just…don’t think of him at all. Only then are you able to completely enjoy your time with Jisung.

He chews on his bottom lip, nodding once. “Yeah.”

“Of course, you can. You just can’t get upset at my answers.”

“I won’t.” He pauses, taking a deep breath as he traces his finger down your arm. “Do you miss him?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “I mean, I guess a part of me does. But I don’t know if that’s me missing him or the craziness and the pain. Because after a while…”

He squeezes you reassuringly. “It’s okay.”

“After a while, the pain starts to…feel normal. Good, even. Like I trained myself to crave the dysfunctional shit we did. In my mind, I thought all couples fought the same way we did. And everyone says fighting is normal, and if you’re not, you don’t really care about the relationship. So, in some sick, twisted way, I saw those arguments as us just…loving each other. Loudly.”

“I’m sorry he did that to you,” Jisung replies. “It’s not right.”

“It wasn’t just him, Sungie. It was me, too. C’mon, I literally asked you to help me because I thought it would hurt him.” You laugh at yourself, but ultimately, the conversation tears the barely healed wound in your heart open all over again.

“Sounds like he pushed you there.”

“I still made that decision. I could’ve been the bigger person and kept my hands clean,” you explain.

“Do you regret it?” he asks, a genuine fear laced in his gaze. “Do you still want him?”

Your hesitation has his fear twisting into hurt, but his face doesn’t change. It’s just the emotions swirling in his brown eyes that give you any indication of his feelings.

“Listen to me,” you murmur, cupping his cheek and rubbing your thumb over his skin. “I don’t regret it. Do I wish we started this in a different way? Yeah, I do. But what’s done is done, and I don’t think it would change anything for me and him.”

He places his hand over yours. “I won’t pretend like I understand, because I’ve never been in that kind of situation before. I just can’t believe he would fucking do something like that. To you of all people.”

“Sungie, I’m not perfect.” You give him a tiny smile. “I’ve said and done things I shouldn’t have. Regardless of everything else, this was the ultimate betrayal, wasn’t it? He might have done it first, but I’m with you. It isn’t just sex.”

“This isn’t your fault.”

“Maybe not. But I don’t think it’s just his, either. We fell apart long before he ever cheated in the first place.” Tears well in your eyes, and you shake your head. “I don’t wanna talk about him anymore.”

He kisses your forehead, tugging you to his chest. “That’s okay. Let’s spend all day right here, okay?”

You nod. “I’d love that.”

Your first mistake of the day was leaving your house. You’re not sure what spurred you into going out to get takeout considering all of the leftovers you have in your fridge, but life is clearly too short to worry about semantics. Your sunglasses block the sun out of your eyes, and as you push the door to the restaurant open, you place them on top of your head instead.

You don’t notice at first. After all, you’re starving and Jisung is at his own house tonight, so the only thing you’re focused on is ordering your food so you can eat.

You tell the nice lady your order, and when you’re done, you feel eyes on you—a prickly feeling beginning at the base of your spine that slowly weaves its way up each vertebrae until you find yourself turning around against your will.

In an instant, your hunger is replaced with an ache that has your stomach twisting and curling. Chenle meets your gaze, sitting at the table in the far corner. Your lungs refuse to fill when you also recognize that he’s not alone. A girl sits across from him, and her back faces you. She seems too engrossed in the story she’s telling Chenle to realize he’s no longer listening to her. He’s honed in on you, on how stiff you’re standing at the mere sight of him.

You’re not with him anymore. Of course, he’s free to see any girl he wants now. Why are you so upset? You’ve got Jisung. There’s no need for you to feel this way, to feel how your heart beats painfully slow, threatening to stop altogether at the thought of his hands on her the same way he used to touch you.

At least you two aren’t together this time, right?

At least he’s not betraying your trust, your love, and your soul simply because he’s bored, right?

The lump in your throat is impossible to swallow past, and now all you want is to run home and never be seen again. Your appetite has diminished, and you feel yourself reverting back into who you were with him.

Whatever’s going on inside you is exactly the same as the two times you caught him while you were together.

You’re not over him. For some fucking reason, you still want him.

You curse under your breath, but you’re unable to pull your gaze away from his. Much to your surprise, he doesn’t look smug at all, but like he’s admiring you. As if he misses you, and whatever void he’s been trying to fill is just…perpetually empty.

The lady clearing her throat catches your attention. She hands you your bag, and you thank her and quickly depart the restaurant without a second glance at Chenle. While you refuse to let yourself cry, you can’t stop thinking about him even after you’ve been home for an hour. Your food remains untouched, and you pace around your kitchen like everything bad Chenle has ever done has dissipated into thin air.

You know exactly how this is going to play out. There’s no way in hell he’s not going to reach out to you, and you’re not strong enough to turn him away now. Even when you have Jisung, who has done nothing but be perfect to you, you just can’t fucking get out of this trap.

You should call Jisung. Tell him what happened and that you need him, but you don’t. There’s a sneaking suspicion that floods through your bones when you realize you don’t want to. Calling him means he’ll prevent you from talking to Chenle, and then Chenle will go back to whoever that girl is and do everything you like to her.

You curse under your breath, grasping onto the edge of the counter.

Will Jisung ever be enough for you?

Is peace…arbitrary? Redundant? Is it not what you want?

The whole time you were with Chenle, it’s what you craved. Stability, peace, love. Three things you never got, and now you have them. But it’s not the same with Jisung. You don’t want those things with anyone but Chenle, but at the same time, silence is unbearably loud. Louder than any of the times you’ve yelled at Chenle or vice versa.

In chaos, you flourish. Maybe…maybe, you’re unable to function without chaos. Perhaps that’s what keeps you alive, your gears turning, and your life harmonious.

How the fuck does that work? Is this all you’re good for?

Just like you predicted, a knock sounds at your door. With your palms sweating, you check through the peephole first, and your suspicions are confirmed. Chenle stands there, waiting for you to let him in.

You have two choices here.

You could ignore him. Leave him standing alone in your apartment complex’s hallway like the dumbass he is, floundering for your attention. You could choose Jisung, the peace and tranquility you know is suitable for the long term.

Or…

Or you could have him again. You could complete yourself in the only way you know how. Maybe the cycle will end this time. He’s been without you for so long, he might have learned his lesson.

It’s not even a fucking competition in your brain.

You unlock the door, confronting him face-to-face—alone—for the first time since you left him. Or made him leave, is more like it.

He doesn’t leave time for awkwardness or pleasantries. Instead, he launches himself forward, his hands cupping your cheeks as he smashes his lips to yours. In his grasp, you’re absolutely pliant, melting right into him just like you’ve done every other time before.

You moan into his mouth, fingers grasping at the fabric of his shirt. Too much time has passed already, so the last thing you want is to wait any more. The kiss is messy, rough in a way that has your teeth clashing together and tongues wrestling for dominance.

Jisung is great. Jisung is nice, but he’s not Chenle.

Chenle’s not scared of being rough, of the messiness you’ve craved without him.

“Hi, baby,” Chenle murmurs, pulling his shirt over his head before dipping back down to kiss along your neck. “I fucking missed you.”

You’re ashamed of how the feelings of uncertainty have turned into lust. It sends heat throughout your entire body, and you hate how damp you feel between your legs already.

“S’okay.” He nips against your pulse. “I know you missed me, too. Don’t waste that pretty little voice on words when I could make you moan instead.”

Much to his surprise, you push him back, chest heaving as you allow your gaze to rake over him. Unfortunately for you, you’ve never been attracted to anyone the way you are with Chenle. Even his mistreatment of you isn’t enough to make that fade.

Without hesitation, you pull your T-shirt off and toss it across the room. The next thing you know, he’s moving forward again, turning you around and pushing your stomach against the island. The chill has you pushing back against him, but it’s nothing compared to how hot every inch of your skin is.

“How many times?” he asks, grinding against your ass as he unbuttons your jeans and unzips them.

“What?” You’re unable to concentrate on anything except how close his fingers are to where you need them most.

He kisses your shoulder before nudging your bra strap down. Moving to the other, he repeats his action. “How many times have you fucked Jisung?”

“Chenle, I—”

“Don’t lie to me, slut. Tell me how many times you screwed my best friend.”

Your eyes nearly roll back. “Four. Five. I don’t know.”

“Are we fucking even now? That’s what you wanted, huh? A little bit of adventure because I fucked up?” His fingers close in around the sides of your neck. “You got it, baby. Don’t you ever…ever fuck him again, got it? Only I get you.”

You clench your thighs together, and a whimper gets caught in the back of your throat. At this point, you’d tell him anything to get him to touch you. And despite Jisung being the topic of conversation, he’s the last damn thing on your mind.

His breath fans across your ear, and through gritted teeth, he says, “If you want to cum tonight, you better fucking agree with me.”

“I won’t.” You quickly shake your head and force the words out through his grip on your throat. “Don’t want anyone else touching me but you.”

As a reward, his hand slips into your jeans. His fingertips connect with your clit through your panties, and your hips jolt.

“He can’t be doing a good job if you’re still so wet for me.” Chenle tsks. “I warned you he could never be me.”

You whine in response, grinding down onto his touch for more stimulation.

“What was it you said?” His circles on your bud are achingly slow.

“Chenle, please—”

“That’s not it.” He stops rubbing you, moving to take his hand out of your jeans.

“No, no.” You push his wrist down. “Fuck, I said I didn’t want him to be you. Please don’t stop.”

You feel his smirk against your skin as he returns to his slow, pleasure-filled torture. He rolls his hips, pressing his hard, straining cock against your ass. The counter digs almost uncomfortably into your midriff, but you couldn’t possibly care at a time like this. He leans back a bit to unclasp your bra, and while both of you are distracted with that, his hand moves inside your panties, tracing along your entrance before slowly sliding two fingers in.

You grip the edge of the counter, pushing back to tell him how much you need him. As soon as your bra falls to the floor, he’s pulling out of you, trailing his sticky fingers up your body until he reaches your breasts. He squeezes you, caging you in his grasp, his chest against your back as he uses your arousal to wet your nipples before he rubs his thumbs over them.

Your back arches and your head falls back against him, quiet moans spilling from your lips at his slow pace. Every inch of you is on fire, and you crave him way too much for your own good.

“You’re so fucking pretty, baby,” he hums, and while his hands pleasure your tits, you can’t help but wish it was his mouth. His tongue is sinful, and you want all he has to offer.

When you rub your thighs together, you whine at the friction, your body sensitive from your need.

“Bet you just wanna be bent over and fucked like the little slut you are, huh?” He chuckles darkly. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, you’re gonna forget your own name.”

He pushes your jeans down your thighs, but doesn’t get them past your knees. His hand slides back into your panties, and two of his fingers are back inside you in record time. You sigh in relief, rocking against him to encourage him to hurry up.

This time, he moves fast, the palm of his hand hitting your throbbing clit with every thrust. You can’t contain your moans, grinding to get more stimulation on your bud.

Unfortunately for you, Chenle knows your body just as well as you do. Right when your walls start to clamp down as a warning sign of your impending orgasm, he removes his touch. You curse, whining like a child at the feeling of being left hanging.

He brings his hand up to your face. “Suck.”

You don’t hesitate. You take his fingers into your mouth, collecting your slick from them and swirling your tongue to make sure you get all of it. Hollowing your cheeks, you allow your eyes to roll back at the taste and how all it does is arouse you further. He slowly pulls them away from you, and an obscene pop follows.

“Did he make you this wet?” Chenle asks. “Tell me who’s better.”

“You,” you say quickly.

“Why?” he continues. “What did my slut learn after having her fun? Hm?”

“H-He’s too nice.” Your face burns, embarrassment creeping through every inch of your body. “Never like this for him.”

Chenle’s hand finds the middle of your shoulder blades and pushes you flat against the counter. You shiver in anticipation, pushing back against him. He rips your panties down, and a sharp slap on your ass has your hips jolting.

“Dripping like the little whore you are,” he scolds you, hitting the other cheek, too. “Gonna make a mess all over the kitchen, baby.”

“Lele, please—”

“Oh, now you wanna act like that, huh?” He unbuckles his belt, the metal clinking together. “You really think nicknames will make me go easy on you?”

“Don’t want you to,” you reply, letting your forehead drop against the granite.

He presses his fingertips against your clit, spreading your arousal around as he rubs fast circles. Your legs are weak and shaking, and your need for release and the arousal soaking your thighs only serve to add to your embarrassment.

“Such a pretty pussy.” He sucks in a deep breath. “No wonder he wanted to steal you from me.”

You arch your back to give him better access, moans spilling past your lips as you grind into his touch. “Chenle, please. Please let me cum. It feels so good.”

“You close?” He contemplates, his other hand massaging your ass.

“So fucking close,” you confirm. “Please.”

“Mm,” he murmurs, circling you faster. “You do sound fucking beautiful when you cum.”

For a moment, you believe he’ll actually let you finish. You build and build, hips frantically moving, but almost like he knows you’re one last rub away from shattering, he pulls away. Your whine turns into a loud moan when he slaps your clit hard.

“You don’t deserve it yet, baby. You don’t get to cum unless it’s on my cock. Understood?”

You're near tears at this point, panting in the aftermath of being denied your orgasm again. Chenle shuffles behind you, and the rest of his clothes hit the floor. He curses under his breath, and you close your eyes, imagining him with his fingers gripping his cock, unable to stop his hips from bucking into his fist.

“You won’t like what happens if you cum without permission, pretty girl.” He rubs the head of his cock along your folds to collect your arousal. “Soaking me already and I’m not even inside.”

He allows his tip to enter you just enough to begin a stretch. Your breath catches in your throat, and you try your best to stop yourself from pushing back until he’s all the way in.

The words escaping you are no longer coherent, but that seems to spur him forward more than anything else. He lands another smack on your ass, but before you even react to that, he thrusts himself in completely until his balls press against your clit.

Your eyes roll back as you let out an obscene, long moan. You move your hips to stimulate your throbbing bud, but he tightens his grip on you to keep you still. He pulls out slowly, lewd noises following.

“Hear that?” He lets out a breathy chuckle. “This pussy is mine. Fuck.”

“Only yours,” you agree.

When he starts thrusting, it wreaks havoc on your body. You're already seconds away from an orgasm considering how many you’ve been denied, but you do your best to listen to him. His skin slaps against yours as he quickens his pace to an almost impossible speed. You’re lost in bliss, walls pulsing around him. All you want is to finish, and hopefully he’ll allow it soon.

His moans mix with yours, and the longer the two of you are connected, the higher pitched his become. His nails dig into you while he pulls you back with every thrust forward. The tip of his cock slides right into your spot, and the entire world tilts on its axis.

You practically scream out a chorus of pleas, begging him to allow you to finish as his length rubs against your inner walls perfectly. The world around you becomes blurry, and you can’t be certain, but you’re pretty sure you’re fucking drooling.

“Do you deserve it?” He curses under his breath. “Answer me. Do you deserve to cum?”

You shake your head, brain too foggy to comprehend fully. “I need it. Please.”

He doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he reaches around your legs and finds your clit with ease. All it takes is a brush of his fingertips to have you catapulting into your orgasm. Your walls clamp down on him hard, and his rhythm is thrown off. He refuses to stop until you’re through it, thrusting through the tightness.

When he pulls out abruptly, you whine.

“On your knees.” He pants, pulling you up and turning you toward him. “Hurry the fuck up, slut. On your fucking knees and suck my cock.”

You don’t need any help dropping to the ground, your legs weak anyway. Glancing up at him, you waste no time in wrapping your hand around him. He twitches in your grasp, and instead of teasing him, you start taking him in your mouth. He’s heavy on your tongue, achingly hard, and cutting off your air supply the deeper you take him into your throat.

“Don’t stop, baby.” He gathers your hair up into a makeshift ponytail, guiding you along his cock.

You follow his commands, a surge of pride welling in your chest when his hips involuntarily thrust. Peering up at him through your lashes, you’re surprised to see his phone in his hand. He’s recording you. It does nothing but make you bob your head faster, desperate to please him.

“Fuck, my little slut sucks cock so good,” he hisses, throwing his head back. “Wanna cum all over your face.”

You moan, the vibration making him gasp. He yanks your head back.

“Open your mouth,” he commands.

You do as he says, and before he even has to tell you, you stroke him until strings of white shoot from his tip. He moans, tilting your head up by your chin to see you painted in his cum.

You use your tongue to catch what landed on your lips, awaiting his next request. His chest heaves as he stares at you. He swipes your cheek with his thumb, and you take the initiative of taking it into your mouth.

He tosses his phone on the counter, gently helping you to your feet. “You okay?” he asks, voice much softer.

You nod timidly, the cloud slowly lifting from your brain. “I’m okay.”

“Did I hurt you?” He grabs one of the dish towels on the counter and uses it to wipe the remainder of his release off your face.

“No.” You shake your head, confusion sinking in when he helps you remove your clothes all the way instead of redressing you.

“Good. Let’s go shower, baby. I’ll clean you up.”

Your heart twists in your chest, but you allow him to intertwine your fingers and lead you into the bathroom. You’ve missed him so much, and no matter how much you fought, it would always end like this—with some sort of sexual make up to let out pent up aggressions, and then he took such good care of you.

Why couldn’t he be like that all the time?

Once you're beneath the warm water, he pulls you to his chest, cradling the back of your head as he presses his lips gently on yours. For a moment, you forget the rest of the world. Finally, the puzzle feels as if it’s been pieced back together.

You pull away first, scanning over his face, noting how the water makes his hair stick flat to his forehead. Smiling, you run your fingers through it to push it back. He gulps, gaze softer than you’re used to as he holds you close.

“(Y/N), I’m…” He pauses. “I love you. Don’t leave me like that again.”

You don’t hesitate to nod. Cupping his cheek, you run your thumb along his skin. “I love you, too. I’m not going anywhere.”

Chenle washes your hair, gently lathers your body with soap, and presses soft kisses on your skin. These are the moments you miss. The ones where he shows you he loves you, that he cares. You want to live in these moments forever, but it’s normal that they don’t last.

All couples fight. All couples retaliate at each other.

The two of you aren’t above it, clearly, but the most important thing is that he’s here with you now…right?

It doesn’t matter if he’s strayed before. He always comes back to you.

This time will be different. You feel it in your bones.

Once you’re done in the shower, he helps dry you off and massages your shoulders. It doesn’t matter how much time passes—you’ll always be his. He takes care of you. He loves you.

When you’re completely dry, the two of you climb right into bed. He pulls you to him, kissing all over your face despite how clearly tired he is.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice strained. “For everything, (Y/N). We’re gonna be better this time. I promise.”

You’ve learned to be weary of his promises, but that doesn’t mean you don’t hope he means it.

“I’m sorry, too.” You kiss the base of his neck. “Fighting fire with fire is never the right answer.”

His breathing evens out before yours, and you stare up at your ceiling, deep in thought. Everything is overwhelming, but one thing settling inside you has your heart shattering just like the glass Chenle carelessly swiped off the counter.

You’re with Jisung. You told Jisung you wanted him, that you wanted to see where things went, but here you are, back with Chenle.

You’ve become everything you hated Chenle for being.

What the fuck do you tell Jisung?

#nct dream #chenle #zhong chenle #jisung #park jisung #nct #nct smut #jisung smut #chenle smut #nct dream smut #kpop smut #jisung x reader #chenle x reader #jisung scenarios #jisung imagines #chenle scenarios #chenle imagines

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juletheghoul · 7 months

Text

AN: The gif of this man as a sheriff, sent my ass into a SPIRAL and this is what happened. I originally wanted to post this for my birthday, but with Canadian Thanksgiving falling on the same weekend there was no way I would have been able to finish lol. I am still trying to post more often, please be patient with me, hopefully this makes up for the lack of posting for the last few weeks. Special thanks to @wheresarizona for betaing and just general wonderfulness, to @just-here-for-the-moment for screaming at me through comments and in whatsapp over this, and to @frannyzooey for screaming at me through discord lol (And for making me some super awesome edits that I will post after!) Hope you enjoy xox.

(PS, I have an idea for a part 2, let me know if you’d want to read it!)

Pairing; Sheriff Frankie Morales x f!reader (Blue / Bluebell as a nickname)

Warnings; sweet, lovestruck Frankie needs his own warning I think-piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, Frankie eats pussy like the champion he is, a non-consensual creampie, angst, longing, yearning, some violence (involving guns / war, accurate for the time period-I tried not to let it get too gory or graphic) brothel mentions - let me know if I missed anything.

Word count; 13k 😅

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

Dust swirled around him as he made his way into town from the train station, the sun beating down on his every step, and although he hadn’t been home in over a decade, he still knew the way just as well as if he’d never left. Difference was he’d left practically a boy, and now he’d come back a man.

People he both did and didn’t recognize passed him as he carried his suitcase down the sunny high street, some of them smiled, most of them ignored him. It made no difference to him. He would be their new sheriff just the same. Besides, there was only one person he cared to see again. There would be time enough for that later, though. First, he had to get settled.

The brothel was busy, a surefire sign of the town’s growth evident in the number of horses tied up in front.

“Well, hey there, sugar–” He tipped his hat and smiled at the young lady calling out to him, smiling as she leaned against one of the columns flanking the entrance, “-you coming to make a woman out of me?” She batted her big eyes at him.

“Don’t count on it.” His tone was polite, his smile in place. She tsked, giggling at his manners before being called away by someone inside.

Sweat was starting to collect on his brow with the effort of lugging his suitcase all the way from the train station, and he let out a relieved sigh when he finally stepped through the doors of the sheriff's office. It was somehow even hotter on the inside.

“Can I help you?” A kid no older than he’d been when he’d left greeted him from one of the two desks in the small room.

“I’m Francisco Morales, I’m here to see–”

“He’s here to see me, he’s my replacement.” A grizzled but familiar voice sounded from behind him, “You’re early.” The older man walked past him on his way to the second, bigger desk, where he put his cowboy hat down before turning to face him once more. “I was under the impression you’d be here by the end of this month. You in that much of a hurry to retire me, boy?”

He set the suitcase down before wiping at the back of his neck with his handkerchief.

“No sir, just wanted to get settled in, have some time to reacquaint myself.” He put the cloth away. “Fix up the house before starting. Thought I’d check in with you first, though.” He’d gotten in plenty of trouble growing up, and most of the time, this man had been the one to pull him by his ear and make him smarten up. It was a novelty to be in this office and not be in trouble.

“Well, you’ve checked. Go on and get settled. The desk and the badge will still be here in a week.” Sheriff Carson had always been one to speak plainly, and he did so now.

“Yes, sir.” Francisco picked the suitcase back up and braced himself for the glaring rays that would greet him just outside.

“Son,” He turned at the sound of the old man’s voice, “I was sorry to hear about your folks. They were good people.” He nodded back at the old man once and made his way back out the door.

—

“Try again.” You crossed your arms, “We both know I’m not paying that much.” You kept both your voice and expression as neutral as you could, keeping your real interest in the supplies he had close to your chest. Interest and necessity always cost more.

He narrowed his eyes, and you raised your eyebrows in return, holding your ground.

“Price is an even one hundred dollars; had to ride halfway around the world to get most of it-” You curled your lip in disgust.

“Bullshit, Dale! You rode to the nearest town, and that’s only a day's ride at the most. I’ll pay fifty, and that’s twice what it’s worth.”

“You tryna rob me, woman?” He crossed his arms, mirroring you, “I’ll go down to eighty, but that’s final.” He rose to his full height, his posture making him look like some giant, petulant child.

“Seventy-five. And I want some tobacco.”

“Goddamn, you drive a hard bargain. Fine.” He extended his hand, and you shook it with a satisfied smile.

“Good man. Pleasure doin’ business with you.”

“Yeah, yeah, robbin’ me more like.” He grumbled good-naturedly and unloaded the supplies while you counted out the money to pay him with. “Goin’ back in a couple weeks, make sure you let me know what you’ll be needin’ before I go.” He tucked the money away and left. The rest of the morning was spent restocking the various bottles and cabinets with your new stock.

It was therapeutic, sitting behind the big mahogany counter to take inventory of your shop. The shop that had taken you years to finally acquire. Every so often, you took stock of all the work you’d put into it and felt a significant amount of pride in what you’d accomplished. All of it done on your own.

The customers came and went throughout the day, buying tinctures and tonics, and you helped them all to the best of your ability until the end of the day eventually found you, and you locked up the shop. With a final sweep to ensure everything was in its right place before closing up for the night.

The sun was blessedly low as you made your way home, but the streets were busy. Ethel, the youngest and friendliest of the girls who worked in the brothel a few doors down from your shop, was smoking her pipe on the porch, waving and smiling as you passed.

“Hey Ethel, how you keeping?” You called out to her, “Fall in love again today?” She laughed, a plume of smoke wreathing around the halo of her hair.

“Of course, saw a tall drink of water today. Think I’m gonna marry him.” She winked, a devilish smile on her pretty face.

“Uh oh, sounds like he’s in trouble.” You laughed, waving as you passed by the house.

“He will be if he ever comes in here, bye Honey, see you later.”

The buildings thinned as you moved further and further away from the main street, giving you a clearer view of the surrounding ranches and houses scattered throughout the plains. Your own house came into view, and you smiled to see it. The view of it had the pride swelling again; it had been run down and ragged when you’d purchased it, but money wasn’t the only thing you’d invested. That house was the result of your blood, sweat, and tears. Hours and hours of elbow grease, blisters, and bruises, cuts, and had you not been very careful, it would have cost you a few broken bones as well.

There was another house on the way to yours though, one that wiped the smile right off your face as you passed it. It was a house that drew your eye no matter how many times you walked past, no matter how many times you tried to ignore it. It was empty now, but years ago, it had been full of life, full of love and mischief and happiness. It had been full of hope and promises. It was empty now, one of the windows broken, much like the promises had been.

You couldn’t help but watch it as you passed; something flashed in the window, but you ignored it. There hadn’t been anyone there for years.

Wish it would just burn down or sell. Wish the ground would open up and swallow it whole.

Your feet ache when you finally make it to your house, eager to unlace the boots imprisoning them. You did your best to hurry through all your chores and feed yourself, the promise of a hot bath and sweet-smelling soap carrying you through.

—

The house was so much worse than he’d thought it would be, and he’d thought it’d be bad. A couple of windows had broken, and half a town's worth of dirt and dust had blown in through them. He sighed at the state of it, knowing his mother would never have let it get this bad, and for once, he was grateful she wasn’t around to see it.

He set his suitcase down and made a mental list of what needed to be done. First thing first, he needed a few things.

With a wagon full of supplies and considerably less money in his pocket, he began the long process of making it habitable. With a stiff brush and an even stiffer broom, the dirt was returned to its rightful place outside the house. The windows that weren’t broken were opened to let in fresh air, and floors and counters were washed. Food and supplies were put away; the bed was made with new, expensive sheets and linens.

He worked his fingers to the bone throughout the day and most of the night until he’d done as much as he could. There was nothing to be done about the windows; the glass had been ordered, but it would be a few days, possibly even weeks, until he could fix those.

By the time he’d boiled water to bathe himself with, he could barely keep his eyes open, and once clean, he dropped into bed and into the sweet abyss of sleep.

It was strange for him to wake up in the same house he’d grown up in, even stranger for him to wake up in the bedroom his parents had owned. He’d been so dead tired that he’d forgotten to close the shutters, and the room was flooded with the golden light of dawn, chasing away any and all hope for a few extra hours of rest.

Those earlier years were vivid in his mind now that he was here, in this house. He could practically hear the younger, wilder version of himself climbing out his window to go find her. Could still taste the stolen kisses in his mouth, could still hear her delighted laugh when he’d wrap her up in his arms and declare his undying love.

He rose, trying and failing to leave the memories of her behind, and got ready for the day. The coffee he’d bought from the general store wasn’t half bad, and he drank the whole pot with gusto, making a mental note to make sure he picked up some more before he ran out.

The current sheriff didn’t want him underfoot while he settled his affairs, and he didn’t plan on making Carson’s life harder, but he did want to reacquaint himself with the town he’d soon be the law in. He figured the best way to do that would be to go into the businesses and talk to the people, and make his presence known.

You should be looking for her, give her an explanation–demand one in return.

He shook his head, ignoring the rational part of his brain. After all, he didn’t even know if she was still here. He thought about her as he left his house, imagining he could see the two of them as they’d been before. He, in his transition into manhood, her in the bloom of her youth, the two of them inseparable. The ghosts caught up to him though, and then he saw her–the real her, standing just outside the apothecary, waving someone away.

She saw him too, and his heart raced. She was even more beautiful to him than he remembered; it was as though for a brief moment, all of the years between them melted away.

A very brief moment.

The look of shock and hurt, and what he hoped had been love on her face was replaced with a look that, thankfully, could not hurt him. It was pure and unadulterated anger, no–fury.

His legs moved, bringing him towards her. This was definitely not how he wanted this meeting to go. He just hoped she’d listen, but judging by the way she stuck up her middle finger at him, it didn’t look good.

–

The nerve of him. The unmitigated gall!

“Wait–” His voice sounded as you turned to make your way back inside the shop.

“No!” You yelled back over your shoulder, not even bothering to face him, even as your heart raced to see him again.

“Goddamnit, woman, wait! Let me talk to you–” He was closer than you thought, barely managing to avoid you slamming the door in his face.

“Don’t you ‘woman’ me, Francisco Morales!” you yelled up into his handsome face, hating how gorgeous he looked, how his neck- one of your favourite parts of him- stared you in the face. “Do me a favour and take off for another fifteen years. Leave me be.”

“Come on, Bluebell, you gotta let me explain.” He managed to slip through the doors before you had a chance to lock them, but it didn’t matter, the pet name he called you stopped you in your tracks and rocketed the fury to new heights.

“Bluebell?” You couldn’t hide the edge of violence in your voice, “How dare you call me that? I am nothing but a stranger to you at this point. You lost any and all privileges to call me anything at all when you left.” He was taller than when he left, but his eyes still burned into yours the way they’d done when you were young and in love.

It would make you laugh if you weren’t still so hurt about how everything had gone down. The way he was standing in front of you, hands on his hips, frustrated frown in place. You didn’t give him an inch, but it hurt to admit just how badly you’d missed him. You shooed the swirl of feelings for him away, focusing on the one easiest to deal with: anger.

“Will you listen to me at least?”

“Why should I?” You turned from him, busying yourself with putting a few of your jars back in their place.

“Well, because I owe you an explanation–” You let out a bark of cruel laughter.

“That’s an understatement.”

“-I know, I always intended on coming back for you. You have to know that.”

“Do I? Do I just have to know that Francisco?” You all but slammed the jar into its slot on the big cabinet, taking up the whole wall behind the counter. “You know, you have some goddamn nerve–” the little bell above the door jingled when the Sheriff walked in, his bushy, white eyebrows raised into his hairline as the look on your face. It didn’t take an overly in-depth investigation to see that Francisco wasn’t exactly in your good books.

“You never could stay out of trouble, could you, son?” He moved past him to stand at the counter before you, “You want me to come back later, sweetheart?”

You sighed, doing your best to smile at the older man.

“Not at all. I have the tonic ready; give me just a moment to wrap it up for you.” You did your best to smile and ignore the big, aggravatingly effective puppy dog eyes shining at you from your peripheral. “Here you are, Sherriff, that’ll be thirty-five cents.” He dug into his pocket, counting out the right amount and handing it over before thanking you and turning to leave.

“You make sure you let me know if you need anything–” He gave Francisco a frown, “-and I mean anything.”

“Yes sir, thank you.” With another jingle, he was gone, but other customers made their way inside, and Francisco sighed.

“You can go ahead and leave. I am at my place of business.”

“I will come and find you later. Then we can actually talk.” He took a few steps back, his hand on the door handle.

“I won’t hold my breath.”

—

Much to his annoyance, the sheriff was waiting for him outside of the apothecary.

“Can I help you with something, sir?” He spoke the words through a tired sigh.

“Boy, I do believe that woman hates you.”

“No sir, that woman loves me. If she hated me, she would have shot me.” He moved away from the sheriff, ignoring the raucous laughter that followed his every step. He ignored it and set about doing what he needed to do, telling himself that he’d be able to deal with it later when she let him explain himself. It made no matter what he told himself, though, his mind wouldn’t let her go.

Instead of using the time productively, he found himself counting the hours until she closed up the shop, loitering around the door like some lovestruck teenager. He scoffed to himself, ignoring the cloying heat of the sun. Isn’t that all he was? Just some lovestruck fool? She couldn’t know that, though, not with the way things had gone down.

Any hope he had of her cooling down throughout the day died at the narrowing of her eyes, her expression now as she locked the apothecary door so different from the one that had kept him going throughout the years he’d spent away.

“Still here, shocking.” She waltzed past him, “Just leave me be.”

“I can’t do that., I need you to listen to me.” It took him a few long strides to catch up with her, “Can I please just explain?”

“Why? What does it matter at this point? I don’t want to hear you–” He stood in her way, blocking her path on the dusty sidewalk.

“Listen! Please!” He held onto her arms, keeping her still so he could look into her eyes. “I know you aren’t happy with me–” She scoffed, and he spoke over her, “I know, but you have to know that I missed you all this time. I didn’t want it to happen like this, but I can’t help that now.” She shrugged out of his grip, crossing her arms.

“You okay, Honey? This man botherin’ you?” An older woman shouted from the porch of the brothel, her hand on the gun at her hip.

“No, Ma’am, I’m fine. I know him–well, I knew him.” She turned towards the madam and smiled, “I got it under control.” She sighed and walked around him, turning to him after a few steps. “You have until I get home.”

He rushed behind her and kept the smile to himself.

“I see you’ve done really well for yourself. It makes me really happy to see how you’ve been–”

“This isn’t an explanation. You’re wasting your time with flattery I won’t respond to.”

“Right, I’m sorry.” He frowned, trying to keep pace with her. “I sent you letters–”

“You sent me a few letters, all of which I responded to.” She spoke loudly, cutting him off. “A few letters in almost fifteen years–”

“I sent you dozens of letters.” It was his turn to frown and her turn to slow down, “I wrote to you as often as I could, even after I stopped getting your responses.” He knew he wasn’t exactly the kind of man her parents had wanted her to end up with. He remembered the sour looks on their faces when he’d come calling.

“I got a few letters the first year and then nothing else.” Her expression was wary, her eyes narrowed. “Did you really write to me? Or are you saying that so I’ll forgive you?” She crossed her arms, stopping to gauge the truth in his words.

“I wrote to you for years, figured I would have to come and talk to you in person, but then I thought maybe you’d met someone else, or moved away, or worse. Then I told myself I’d come and find you, but life is the way it is, and things got in the way. When I heard they needed a new sheriff, I sent word to Carson to see if he’d consider hiring me–I was shocked when he responded yes.” She stared at him, eyes bright but mistrustful. “I swear on my mother's grave.” He took her hand, holding it to his heart. “I should have come sooner-” She pulled her hand away gently, fire still burning in her gaze, but now it was coloured with sadness as well as fury.

“Yes, yes, you should have.” She sighed and continued walking towards their homes, “I am so angry at you, Francisco. I am angry you left and angry you came back.” She looked away from him, her hands flying to her face momentarily before facing forward again.

“I know.” His house came into view, and he fought the urge to invite her in. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.” She didn’t respond, only kept her eyes forward. “What time do you leave in the morning?”

“What?” She frowned.

“What time do you usually leave? I’m not sure what time the Apothecary opens–”

“It opens at eight, but I like to get there early. Why?”

“May I accompany you? I would like to walk with you if I could.” He knew she wouldn’t forgive him so quickly. Her fiery temper was one of the things he’d always loved about her.

“You want to walk me? I am fully capable-”

“I never said you weren’t. I would still like to walk with you. I’ve missed talking to you, it would be a nice way to…reconnect.” He chanced a smile, hoping it would still have the effect it used to.

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t smile in return. Her house was closer now, his time with her coming to an end for the day.

“I suppose I cannot stop you.” It wasn’t a yes, but it definitely wasn’t a no.

“See you tomorrow then, goodnight Bluebell.” He stopped a few yards from her door, waiting until she was safely tucked inside before turning and going home.

The moon was high when you finally dug out the letters you’d hidden away deep in the chest at the end of your bed. The paper had yellowed, and you didn’t even bother getting up off the floor. With shaky hands, you untied the little bundle and spread them out in front of you, trying your hardest not to tear up at the little hearts and flowers he’d drawn in the curled-up corners.

My Dearest Bluebell,

I cannot even begin to tell you how much I miss you. Things here move so quickly, but I’m doing so much, making more money than I’ve ever seen! More than enough for us to start our lives together–

You pushed the letter away, finally letting go of the sob that had been squatting in your throat since seeing him earlier that morning. The love he’d had was so evident in his scratchy script, and the pain of his apparent silence reared its head in your soul to see it again after all of the years you’d survived without him. The last letter he’d sent held no clue as to why he’d ever stop writing, and now a nagging suspicion filled the corners of your mind.

Your mother had made it more than clear that Francisco wasn’t her first choice for you. She’d treated him less than kindly whenever he came calling, would turn up her nose at him whenever she’d seen the two of you together, and had smiled a big, cruel smile at the news that he’d be leaving. Would she have gone so far as to hide letters from him? Something in your heart said yes.

Suddenly, it was too much to see his words surrounding you, and you gathered them up hastily, tossing them back into the chest before surrendering to the exhaustion in your heart and in your bones and getting into bed. You tried to think about something else as you lay there, anything else–but he kept popping up, making you wonder–against your will–whether or not he’d actually be there in the morning.

He didn’t let you wonder.

His heavy knock made you practically jump out of your skin as you did your best to tie the laces of your corset. You chewed on your bottom lip, annoyed with how you rushed to throw on your dressing robe, sighing at the speed with which you made it to the door.

He smiled as you opened the door, testing every measure of self-control you’d built up in his absence with a single dimple.

“You’re here.”

“Yes, just like I said–I figured it would be best to be early.” His gaze raked over you in your half-dressed state, “You look lovely.”

“Sure I do.” You scoffed, “I need more time. I usually leave a little later.” He scratched at the back of his neck, unsure what to say, and you had to work extra hard to keep from laughing at him. “Come in then. You can wait in the kitchen while I finish getting dressed.” You turned and left then, leaving him to close the door.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You kept the door slightly ajar in your bedroom, your heart racing to know that after all this time–he was in the same house as you. You shook your head, shooing away the novelty of his presence to call up the anger and the fury that had kept you from falling apart in his absence.

“The house looks great!” He called from the kitchen, “You shoulda seen the state of mine when I got here.”

You bit your lip, relishing the deep tones of his voice as they filled the house.

“Still haven’t been able to fix the windows–had half a desert's worth of sand in the house. Took me forever to clean it.” He continued speaking as you finished dressing, completely unaware of the way you contemplated whether or not to use some of your very pricey, very precious perfume. You ignored the disappointed little voice in your head as you dabbed a few drops behind your ears and on the inside of your wrists.

“-hopefully, they'll come in by the end of the week-” He was still speaking when you made your way back into the kitchen where he sat at your little table, the long lines of him entirely too big and too wonderful for the tiny space.

“Have you eaten?” You cut off his speech, pulling down the cast iron pan from the rack above the woodfire stove.

“I, uh, I had some coffee.”

“So, no?” You shoved some kindling into the open door of the oven, striking a match to light it.

“Well, no–”

“Okay then.” There was enough time, and you got to work.

“Can I help?”

“No–actually, yes. You can go fetch some water from the well out back.” You shoved the big kettle into his hands and sent him on his way, where he went without comment.

Soon enough, you had biscuits baking and coffee brewing, and the house smelled better than any perfume you could buy. You once again ignored the little voice, the one that curiously sounded like your mother when you put out both the butter and the jam.

When they were out of the oven and steaming, you couldn’t help but smile at how well they'd turned out.

“It smells like heaven in here.” You could practically hear him drooling, and it was with a great sense of both satisfaction and pride that you watched him throw caution to the wind and eat one without waiting for it to cool down. He moaned at the first bite, making your heart soar and silencing the mean little voice.

“You like them?” You had to hear it, had to hear the words in his voice.

“Like them? Honey, I’d kill for them.” You narrowed your eyes at him but let the endearment go without comment. Already, you were softening up for him. “I could eat this whole goddamn plate.” He pulled another one open, no doubt burning the tips of his fingers but continuing on just the same, slathering it with both butter and jam before taking a huge, steam-filled bite.

You ate yours slower, unsure what you liked best, the biscuit or watching him eat.

He poured you a cup of coffee before pouring one for himself, and for a moment, your heart shattered at how right it felt to have him here. For the first time since he’d left, you let yourself feel just how lonely you’d been without him.

“I know you’re angry with me.” He put the remnants of his biscuit down, “I know you think I abandoned you, picked up and found a new life outside of this place, but you have to know–” He reached over, taking your hand in his, “I never stopped thinking about you.” The tears flowed without your permission, what felt like years worth of them dripping steadily onto the bodice of your dress. “I have loved you since I was a boy, and I should have come back the second I thought something was wrong. I’ll never forgive myself for letting you worry or letting you imagine for a single moment that you weren’t everything to me. I know it’ll take time for you to trust me again, but I’ll work as hard as I can.”

You wanted to rip your hand away, to scream in his face and tell him to give you peace, but you couldn’t. Instead, you let the tears fall, let him stand and tentatively pull you towards him, let him crush you in the first hug you’ve had in years. For a moment, it’s as though you cannot get close enough, your hands like claws digging into the fabric of his overcoat, knuckles cramping from the force of your grip, and he sighs into your hair. The relief of the painfully familiar smell of him is so great that it almost knocks you off your feet.

When you finally push him away, you know your eyes are puffy.

“I believe you–” He smiles through his own tears, “-but I am still angry. I cannot just let go of my hurt. Not so quickly.” It takes everything in you, but you untangle yourself from him softly. “I have been living in this for so long, I don’t even know how to stop feeling this way.” The handkerchief that usually lived in your pocket made itself useful now. “I don’t even know where to begin. I loved you so much–” His face contorted in pain, the use of the word in the past tense like a stab to his heart. “-I don’t think I ever stopped. It’s the reason it hurts so much.” He let out a shaky breath, smiling a watery smile.

“I know, I’ll work for it, I promise.”

“I know.”

–

He felt like he was flying. His steps were so light, surely he’d grown wings. He knew it was going to be a long road for them, but for the first time in years, he had hope.

He couldn’t keep the smile off his face throughout the day, the feel of her in his arms, the smell of her in his nose, all of it made him feel like any errant puff of wind would blow him away. He had a skip in his step as he made his way over to the Sheriff's office, uncaring whether the man wanted him there or not. He had to keep his time away from her occupied with something, and learning what it took to do his job effectively was the next best thing.

“I haven’t seen that look on your face in years, it meant trouble back then, and I doubt it’s changed.” Sheriff Carson frowned at him, “Your house all fixed up then?” He didn’t stop what he was doing, instead continuing as he spoke.

“As fixed as it can be, sir, until the replacement window panes come in.” He sat in the chair in front of Carson without invitation. The man only grunted in response.

“I want to start early, get a feel for what you do so I can do it properly.” At this, the older man looked up.

“I know I wasn’t the easiest kid–” The older man scoffed at that but let him continue. “-Yes, yes, I know. I was a helion. I’m a man now, and I’ve grown up. I just want to keep this town safe, want to do my job.” The older man's eyes narrowed, and Francisco frowned. “Why did you say yes when I applied?”

“Part curiosity, part hope, I guess.” He set the pen down, leaning back in his chair, his arms coming to rest crossed on his belly. “You’ve always been a smart kid, Frank, and if you really are as grown up as I think you are, I think you got the makings to be a great sheriff. Especially if you’re anything like your daddy.” It was probably the nicest thing Carson had ever said to him. He didn’t know how to respond.

“I just don’t want you to hurt that girl–” He raised his hands to forestall any response, “I know what you felt for her was real, but she was a shell when you left, and I don’t want to see her like that again. We clear?”

“Yes, sir. I’m here. I’m home for good.”

“Good, now let's get to work.”

Francisco was no stranger to hard work, but Carson seemed determined to make him jump through every single hoop in order to prove he could do this job. It didn’t deter him in the slightest, not with the promise of the life he’d always wanted so close on the horizon. Instead, he took notes, followed Carson, did everything he asked, and paid as much attention as he could, but secretly counted the hours until he would see her again.

He heard the gunshots as he organized the disaster that was Carson’s filing system.

“Suppose you oughta come with.” Carson slipped his holster on, handing a gun to him before leading the way toward the sound.

A half-naked man was rolling around on the ground just outside the brothel, clutching at a blood-soaked arm. His eyes were wild with pain and anger, and he only seemed to get more frantic at the sight of the two of them approaching.

“Sheriff! Arrest that woman!” He pointed with his good hand at the young woman on the porch. “Crazy bitch shot my damn arm-”

“You put your hands on me, and you lose your hand! Them’s my rules!” She was screaming mad, a painful-looking shiner blooming on her pale face.

“Enough!” Carson’s voice rang out loud enough to silence everyone within earshot, “Now–Who’s gonna tell me what happened? I can listen, or I can arrest the lot of you and be done with it.” He rested his weight on one leg, hand resting on the gun at his hip.

The madame stepped out from behind the younger woman, her face austere.

“I think it’s pretty obvious; he took a liberty, smacked my girl around, and he got bit.” She put her arm around the younger woman's shoulder. “Ethel is one of my best. Now she’s got this to deal with. He’s lucky she didn’t shoot his pecker off.” The man scoffed, pulling his shirt on as best he could before moving towards the women.

“I don’t think so, pal,” Francisco spoke directly to him, pulling his own gun and holding it at his side in warning.

“I got witnesses, Carson. Lock this fucker up, and let us get back to work.”

“I’ll need to come in and get some statements, Mabel. You know that as well as I do. Frank, take this moron over to get patched up.”

“So I’m just gonna lose my fuckin’ hand!?” He was incensed.

“Lucky you didn’t lose your life. Now get out of my sight. I’m gonna give you until sundown to be out of here; if not, you can spend an undetermined amount of time in my jailhouse.” Carson’s voice held no room for anything but complete obedience, and after a tense moment, all of the air went out of him, and he let Francisco lead him toward the town physician.

You tried not to be upset when he wasn’t waiting for you outside the apothecary at the end of the day; after all, he hadn’t said he would be. Instead, you locked up as usual and set about making your way home.

“Bluebell!” His voice rang out from behind you, making your head whip around. Your frown turned from annoyance to worry at the sight of dried blood on the white of his shirt. Your hands clutched at the collar of his shirt before you had a chance to catch yourself.

“What happened?” Any and all propriety went right out the window with how frantically you pulled at his layers to see where the blood had come from. “Did you get hurt?”

“No, no, I’m fine–it’s not mine.” there was something in his voice that brought you back to your senses, a tenderness that pierced the very heart of you. His hands held onto yours for a moment before you pulled them away slowly.

“Oh. I’m glad.”

“There was some trouble at the brothel. One of the girls shot some idiot who got handsy. I had to bring him to the physician.” The thought of him anywhere near the brothel made your hackles rise. You stamped the feeling away and continued your walk back home. He fell into step beside you. “What was that?” His smile was big now.

“What was what?”

“That look you just gave me.” He bumped his shoulder into yours, and you frowned.

“What are you talking about? I didn't give you any look.”

“You gave me a look, Blue, when I said the word brothel, a jealous look.” His smile was so wide you wanted to smack him.

“I did not. You are free to do as you please. We aren’t married.” You kept your eyes on the horizon and did your best to ignore the bark of laughter he let out beside you.

“Fine, I’ll drop it. I got no business in a brothel anyway. Even if I’m not married, yet.”

You sighed, ignoring just how right he was.

There was a man with a wagon waiting just outside his house as you passed it.

“Can I help you?” He called out to the man outside his house. You can’t help but notice how he put himself between you and the stranger.

“I have some window panes to deliver.” He walked around to the back of the wagon, uncovering it to show the cargo

“Oh! Yes, I’ll take those.” He jogged over to the man, helping to bring the glass inside. You followed him despite yourself, unable to keep the frown off your face at the state of his home. You were still looking around when everything had been brought inside, and the man had been sent away. “It still needs work, but at least the windows will be intact.” You could see how he surveyed his home, his eye just as critical if not more than yours.

You set down your things.

“Need to boil some water.” You hauled out the biggest pot you could find.

“What?” He came over and took the pot from you, putting it onto the stove for you.

“We need to boil water to clean these floors, and we should wash these windows too.”

“Yes, but I can do it–”

“Francisco. Go get water so we can boil it and get this place in order.” You raised your eyebrows at him and relished the way he watched you. He’d always liked it when you were assertive.

“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled before heading out to his own well.

Once the water was boiled, you got to work with a stiff brush while he set about replacing the broken windows. It wasn’t easy work, getting down on your knees to scrub the years worth of dirt and dust out of every nook and cranny embedded in the floorboards. It was worth it, though, to look up every so often and see the hard lines of him working, both his jacket and waistcoat shed and thrown onto a chair; his shirtsleeves rolled up.

He’d always been beautiful to you, with his big brown eyes and his golden skin, the maddening dimple, even the curve in his nose. He was even more gorgeous now, with age and experience etched on his face, even hardened, he could still make you swoon.

You gasped at the sting, snatching your hand back cat-quick. Blood beaded on your finger and dripped down onto the freshly washed floor, an errant piece of broken glass sitting on the floor. It was a few seconds before he was gathering you up from off the floor and guiding you to one of the chairs.

“I’m okay, just a little cut.” He moved away for a moment, moving towards the back of the house. “Really, Frankie, I’m fine.” He came back with a few pieces of clean linen and a little jar of something clear; you can only imagine what it is.

“I know. I still want to clean and wrap it, though.” He set his things down, moving to the remaining boiled water on the stove to dampen one of the pieces of cloth, using it to clean the wound before opening the little jar. His eyes found yours then– ”You gonna be brave for me?” He held it over the cut, waiting for you to answer. “It’s going to hurt, but I know you’re gonna be good for me.” He winked and then splashed a little bit of the moonshine onto it. He may as well have stuck a hot poker into your hand. “There there, Blue, almost done.”

By the time the stinging abates, your finger is wrapped up, and any evidence of injury is gone.

“Thank you.” You held your hand close to your chest, ignoring the way it shook a bit.

“Of course, I think we’re done for today. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. I would like for you to eat something.” He pulled out what looked like some crusty bread and some dry meat. “It’s not much, but it’s what I have for right now.” He set it down in front of you, giving you everything he had to offer, and for the first time in years, you smiled at him.

“Are you done with the windows?”

“Yes, I just need to get rid of these broken pieces.” He gestured to the pile on the counter.

“Okay, let's go back to my place. I can make us dinner.” You stood to move, and he followed you, protesting for a moment.

“But your hand–”

“My hand is fine. Let’s go.” You moved to pick up your things, but he stopped you, gently knocking your hand aside to carry them for you.

The stew came together as quickly as it could with the way your hand throbbed. The bread, too, and soon enough, you were both sitting at the table eating the steaming food quietly. He ate with gusto, and you wondered briefly if he’d been eating well in his time away. He looked strong, but then again, he’d always been broad.

He pushed his bowl away with a dreamy smile, his hands coming to rest on his belly.

“That was the best thing I’ve eaten since I left. Aside from the biscuits this morning, I mean.”

“I’m glad.” You finished eating as he sat there, enjoying his company far more than you’d ever admit. Once you were done, he grabbed your bowl and put it into the sink, pouring some of the leftover well water to begin cleaning up. “You don’t have to do that–”

“I know. You don’t have to feed me either. I’ll just clean these and then get out of your hair.” You sighed, knowing you wouldn’t convince him otherwise.

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you, you’ve fed me better today than in the whole time I was gone.” You smiled to yourself, half exhilarated, half annoyed at just how much your anger at him had crumbled. “Okay-” He set the last plate on the drying rack before drying his hands, “-I desperately need a bath. I’ll get out of your way. See you tomorrow morning?”

“If you want.” You followed behind him, trying your hardest to keep the hope out of your voice.

“Of course, I want to see you tomorrow.” He moved in quickly, pressing a kiss to your forehead before you had time to protest. “Goodnight Blue.” With a smile and a wink, he’s gone.

Weeks passed, and it could not be said that Francisco Morales wasn’t a persistent man. No matter how hard you tried to hang onto that anger, he excelled in chipping away at it. He was true to his word about working on building back the trust that had been lost, spending any time away from his work with Carson split between you, and working on his house.

He’d become quite the handyman in his time away, and he showcased that in the work he did in both his house and yours. He’d noticed your laundry line had broken and fixed it aggravatingly quickly. He spotted a few leaky spots in your roof and had them fixed at no cost to you, making you wonder just how much money he’d made while away. Aside from the windows and the cleaning you’d both done at his place, he’d replaced the more rundown furniture, and while it was missing some of the personal touches of his mother–it was definitely comfortable and livable once again.

The intense loneliness and craving for intimacy had also hit you full force with his return. You found yourself thinking back to how things had been when you’d been young and wildly in love with each other. How his mouth had always found yours, how he seemed to need to be close to you, his arm often around your shoulder, his hand always finding a way to clasp yours.

It was worse at night when other memories floated out of the isthmus of your mind, filling it with the visions of him above you, his tongue in your mouth, and his cock deep inside. You’d been young but eager to explore one another, and he had been nothing if not resourceful in finding any and all opportunities to get you out of your clothing. Now, the days were filled with new tortures, and you found yourself feeling jealous of the beads of sweat that rolled down his back, envious of the way his shirts seemed to hold him so tightly.

The way his eyes tracked you didn’t help the situation; they were just as wild, just as beautiful, and just as open and honest as they’d always been. His desire for you shining out at you through their honeyed gaze.

He’d been busy that morning, well and truly the sheriff now, and with that came more time away, giving you, in turn, more time alone. Or so you’d thought. The knock was loud, solid, and instantly, you knew it was him. You groaned, staring at the perfectly steaming water of the tub surrounding you.

“Not now, Frankie!” You called out to him from the back of the house–hoping for a moment he’d let you enjoy the sweet steam surrounding you. His knock came again, and you huffed, stepping out of the oasis and wrapping yourself up in your dressing gown. “Frankie, I’m kind of in the middle of something–” You opened the door to him, and instantly, his gaze raked over you, no doubt seeing the way the damp fabric clung to your body, leaving nothing to the imagination. The dumbstruck look on his face filled you with such satisfaction that you let him look his fill before moving your eyes to bring his attention back up. “Can I help you with something?”

“Uh–” He stumbled for a moment, his eyes moving back down to where the gown split, to where your leg and most of your thigh peeked through. “Um–I uh…”

“...You…?”

“Um…Sorry. I brought you a gift.” He shook his head for a minute before decidedly looking you in the eye. “I remember I took your copy; brought you a new one.” He held the book out to you, and for a moment, you forgot to be alluring.

“Jane Eyre?” You grabbed the book, opening it up quickly.

“I remember you reading it to me; thought maybe I could read it to you sometime.” His dimple shined, and you couldn’t help but leap into his arms.

“Oh, Frankie, I love it! I have been looking for a copy forever!” You pressed your face into his neck and relished how tightly he held onto you in return, relished the feeling of his nose buried in the crook of your neck.

“God, Blue, you smell good enough to eat.” His words, his voice, they ran down your spine like a drop of ice on a hot day, hardening your nipples and making you ache for him. You pulled away, biting your lip as you stared at his mouth.

“You could come in… and read to me?” He smiled and closed the door. “I was just in the bath. I could get in and cover myself with a cloth. You could read to me while I bathe.” He nodded slowly, gulping before following you, making sure to grab a chair on his way.

“Give me one minute to get in.” You closed the door, heart thumping at how the colour had gone out of his eyes, leaving them blown black. Within a few tense moments, you were back in the tub with the hangover of the lining cloth covering you under the milky, soapy water. “Okay–come in.”

He looked almost pained as he pulled up the chair beside you, his eyes once again greedy in their quest to map whatever part of you he could see, which admittedly is more than you planned to show him with how transparent the lining is.

“Shall I start at the beginning?” He flipped open the book, but his eyes were still locked on you.

“Yes, please.”

“Very well.” He took a deep breath, and began, his deep, soothing voice the perfect accompaniment to the steaming water.

“Folds of scarlet drapery shut in my view to the right hand; to the left were the clear panes of glass, protecting, but not separating me from the drear November day–Oh, sorry, I already read that.” You smiled to yourself, enjoying the way he couldn’t seem to focus, the way he kept losing his place, and admittedly, it took everything in you not to pull him into the tub with you.

“That’s okay. Can you help me with this?” You offered him the soapy washcloth, “My back? It’s so hard to get it on my own.” You batted your eyes at him, smiling the smile he’d never been able to resist, hoping it still worked its magic on him.

“Let me rinse my hands first. I don’t want to muddy up this paradise.” He knocked the chair over in his haste to reach the washbasin you had on the counter. By the time he was finished and righting his seat, he had shed his topmost layers and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his biceps.

You leaned forward, giving him access to the skin of your back and sighing at the closeness of him when he pressed the soapy cloth to it.

“God, I missed you, Blue.” He rubbed at your shoulders slowly, his other hand slipping around to hold the top of your chest, just beneath the dip at the bottom of your throat. “Missed touching you, feeling you, kissing you.”

Your eyes closed, and you thought surely he must feel the way your heart raced just under your skin when his fingers curled softly around your neck.

“Been dying to kiss you for years.” You felt then how the cloth had been discarded, and his bare hand spanned the smooth skin of your back, massaging at your shoulders and the top of your spine. “You ever miss me like that?” His voice was a soft rasp now, lulling you up and back into his hand, letting the linen go and looking up into his eyes.

“Yes–I do, Frankie–all the time.” You bit your lip, staring at his mouth as he spoke.

“Can I kiss you?” He moved forward an inch, leaning in as his hands worked their spell against your skin.

“Yes-” You barely whispered the word before he pressed his mouth to yours softly. It was tender and oh so familiar, the way his lips moved against yours, his tongue seeking entrance and gaining it just like he’d done so many times before. Your kiss was a dance, the steps of which neither of you had ever forgotten. It ached, the way his mouth claimed yours, and you couldn’t help but lean into him, to reach up and hold onto him as he groaned into the kiss.

“I have been dreaming about this since I left–” He spoke between kisses, pressing them to your face, before licking into your mouth once more, “Can I touch you?”

You nodded, chasing his mouth again. His hand slipped down, slick with soap, and then he held onto your breast, kneading one and then the other, his thumb strumming against the sensitive buds while your cunt leaked for him. His eyes moved, watching himself touch you, his lip caught between his teeth,and all of a sudden, it was too much, and you move, pulling away and standing, naked as the day you were born.

“Take me to bed, Frankie.” He stared up at you from his place on the chair, and from the look on his face, you’d think he was looking at an angel. It didn’t last, though; within seconds, he was up and pulling you out of the tub, practically dragging you towards your bedroom.

Your breath came out in a huff when you landed on your back, smiling breathlessly at the look of pure hunger on his face. He chewed his lip as he pulled off his layers, going through them quick enough that you genuinely worried he’d rip them. The water that had clung to your skin from the bath, now seeped into the sheets underneath you as you watched him undress.

“I’m so fucking hard for you, Blue.” He kicked his denim off, tossing everything every which way, “So hard it hurts.” His cock bobbed as he finally crawled his way over to you, and it was then that you saw it, a significant scar on his side, like a starburst. Your hand reached out, and you pressed your fingers to it, looking into his eyes for an explanation.

He pulled your hand up and kissed the tips of your fingers, “It’s nothing. I’m fine.” He continued his pilgrimage across your body, stopping only to kiss your sternum, your hip, and the soft skin of your belly. “I missed seeing you like this so much-“ he opened your legs, groaning at the way your cunt glistened for him. “-I missed how fucking wet you get, how good you taste-“ he barely finished speaking before he dove in, his tongue parting you further, gliding over your clit with desperation.

“I missed you-oh-“ his hands clutched at your thighs, pulling you closer to his mouth, pulling the strings of your arousal to pool for his tongue. “That feels so fucking good, Frankie—“ Your hands found the short crop of his hair, unsure of whether you wanted to pull him up or grind against him. He huffed a cocky laugh into your skin, doubling his efforts and tightening his grip on your thighs, his fingers indented into the skin. The steady glide of his tongue against your clit, up and down, up and down, has you falling over the edge of the cliff and your thighs clamping around his head.

It didn't stop him; his tongue kept moving, slower as you rode out your high. He bit at the plump of your inner thigh as you relaxed, smiling and shiny with your arousal.

“I missed that too.” He moved, pressing his lips to your belly again, moving up and licking a hot stripe between your breasts before slotting his hips between your legs. His skin was so warm, so welcome, that you couldn’t help but sigh and pull him close, your fingers curling into his hair.

“I wanted you to come back so badly-“ You covered every inch of his face in kisses, “Wanted you to stay with me, love me like this.” You licked into his mouth, tasting yourself in the kiss.

“I’m here, Honey, I’ll never leave you again-“ You can feel just how hard his cock is as it pressed into your belly, the two of you clinging to one another in the dying light of the day.

“Promise me, promise me you won’t leave me.” You reached down and wrapped your hand around the sizable heft of him, stroking slowly while positioning him at your entrance.

“Fuck-I promise baby, I promise you-“ His sentence ended in a filthy moan as you pulled him in with your heels, pressing into the meat of his ass, finally having him inside you again after everything.

You moaned at the way he filled you.

The last fifteen years melted away, the long stretch of loneliness feeling more and more like a dream with every deep stroke of his cock.

There were no more words, only whimpers from you and deep groans from him. There was the rhythmic rocking of your bed and the slick sounds of him moving between your legs. His hips snapped faster and faster as he chased his release, burying his face into the crook of your neck to feed all the delicious sounds he made directly into your ear.

“I’m so close, touch yourself—“ his voice sounded wrecked, moving his hips like a piston, his cock kissing that one spot only he ever found. You obey and reach down to swirl your fingers around your clit, rocketing yourself closer to another, more intense orgasm.

He moved his face down, holding onto your breast to suck on your nipple, and then the dam broke, and you clenched around him, moaning his name as you reached your peak.

“Fuck, that’s it, that’s so good, oh god—I’m gonna come-“ his hips sped up, the wet sounds of his thrusts louder after your second climax. You opened your legs wide, giving him space to move, but he stayed put.

“Frankie-“ You started to speak, trying to guide him to spill on your belly; still, he didn’t move. Instead, he pushed in deep, groaning loudly, and it was with a sinking feeling in your stomach that you felt him twitch inside.

You were frozen in place, momentarily shocked into silence.

“God—I’ve been dreaming of that for years.” He sounded drunk, pulling out of you with a hiss to take a good look at his handiwork.

“Francisco, did you just do what I think you did?” Your tone was devoid of any sweetness. “Did you just spill inside me?”

“Yes—“ he frowned, confusion colouring his face along with the flush of his exertion, “—I thought you’d forgiven me? We’re together again-“

“And me forgiving you means risking a baby?” You pulled away, wiggling out from under him to grab a linen shift from your drawer.

“Wait, Blue, come back.” He moved to sit at the edge of the bed, “I’m sorry I didn’t think. It just felt right.”

“Of course it felt right to you. You have no regard for how I might feel.” Your anger burned through you, where once there had been passion, it was now replaced with fear. A deep fear that the next time he decided to up and leave, it might not just be you waiting for him.

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart, that’s not true-“

“I’d like you to leave.” Hot tears flowed down your face at the thought of being pregnant with his child, and alone, waiting to see how long it took him to return the second time.

“Baby, please—don’t make me leave, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that—“

“Leave! I want to be alone. Please just–just go home.” You wiped at your eyes before crossing your arms, doing your absolute best to avoid his gaze. He sighed loudly, moving slowly to gather his things, stopping only to put on his pants and his shirt before tucking tail and heading home.

He’d fucking blown it.

By some miracle, he’d managed to get into her good books, his persistence and determination to show her just how madly in love with her he was–how in love with her he’d always been–weeks worth of it, and he’d messed up in a few minutes. A few glorious, amazing minutes.

He couldn’t help but groan in annoyance with himself every time he remembered it, the euphoria of being with her again, being inside her, of having her wet and needy and so eager for him only to get lost in it and risk a baby they hadn’t yet discussed. Hadn’t even really discussed getting married, not since he’d come back.

He didn’t even know why he’d thought it’d be okay. It had been purely instinctual but also irresponsible and disrespectful. It shamed him that he couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop craving it. He ignored it, though, continued on with showing her his reliability and hoped she understood that she was all he wanted.

Sleep eluded you for days, refusing to find you until the blood came. It wasn’t much better when it finally did, though. There was the initial relief, of course, there would be no child born out of wedlock, and you would not be treated like a pariah, but where did that leave you? He apologized for it, constantly. He groveled, he begged for your time and for your love and forgiveness, and it was his. It was there–ready for him, but the fear hid it away.

No matter how consistent he’d been in his time back, no matter how much he’d assured and explained that he wasn’t going to leave, it still felt like there was a clock ticking somewhere you couldn’t see, counting down the seconds until you’d be alone again.

You tried to focus on other things, filling your days with organizing your home, with clearing out things that no longer served you, things that you had brought over from when your mother died and had actively ignored or hidden away until genuinely forgotten. There were old, moth-eaten rags that had once been her clothes, a few books, and an old hairbrush. Amongst her things, though, was a bundle of paper, a fat wad of it.

Confused, you pulled it apart and very quickly realized that they were letters and they were addressed to you. It was jarring to see your name in Frankie’s script and harrowing to realize that you’d had them the whole time without knowing.

With shaking hands, you opened them one by one, and by the third, the tears obscured your vision.

My Dearest Bluebell,

I know you must be angry with me, things aren’t moving as quickly as they should, but this changes nothing–I’m still coming home to you–

He talked about his time in the war, about how differently they did things where he was, and about how much money he was saving, but between all that was the same promise of return. It was everywhere, that–and his pleas for a response from you.

Please sweetheart, I need to hear from you, please let me know you’re okay, and that you don’t hate me–

You sobbed into them. The words were like wounds, the pain of being alone for so long is even sharper now than it had been before. He had been true to his word, writing letter after letter without a single word from you, and despite the pain of knowing that fact, you read every single one. The dates were consistent, every week, almost like clockwork, except for once–when there were a few months between two letters.

Bluebell, my love,

I am okay–but I was hurt. I barely remember what happened, but one minute I’m in the middle of it, fighting, and the next minute I was screaming and then blackness, until I woke up in a hospital. Nurse says I’m lucky to be alive and that I’m going to be okay–

It was too much, all of it, and despite the fact that it was late and he was most certainly asleep, you had to see him.

The moon followed you on your walk towards his house, lighting the path and keeping you company. There was a soft glow shining out from one of his windows, and it inspired hope, making it easier to knock on the door despite the hour.

There was movement on the other side of the door, his heavy footsteps padding across the old floorboards.

“Who’s there?” Suspicion threaded thickly through his words, and you couldn’t blame him; this was no hour for anyone to come calling.

“I need to talk to you. Can I come in?” Your voice was shaky, the tears had abated while you made your way over, but the worried look on his face when he opened the door threatened to let them flow once more.

“What’s the matter? What happened?” He was shirtless, holding his pistol at his side while he looked beyond you to inspect the horizon. “Come in, come in—“ He closed the door behind you, setting the pistol down with a frown. “What’s the matter, Blue? Why are you out at this hour?”

“I—“ you choked on the word, clutching at his letters, “Frankie, I found them, my mother—“ you sobbed out words, choking on them before he sighed.

“Oh Honey, please don’t cry.” He gathered you up, pulling you into the strong cage of his arms, and it was like the floodgates cracked open wide. One palm held the back of your head, and the other was wrapped around your waist. “You didn’t know, it’s okay.”

“I, I don’t even know what to say. I’m sorry,” your voice cracked with the agony of all of the lost years, “you wrote so many letters, and I never answered any of them, and you got hurt—oh god, you could have died!” It was hard to tell if you were screaming or sobbing anymore.

“Hey! Hey! Shhh, it’s okay, baby,” he rubbed your back, a soothing gesture, “Hey, stop, stop, take a deep breath, I’m fine. I survived. There was nothing you could have done. I know you would have written to me if you’d gotten my letters, if you knew.” He pressed his lips to your temple. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner. I shouldn’t have left without you.”

“I should have known she’d do something like this. I–” You pulled away to look up into his eyes, “I am so angry at her. She let you carry on, just hid them without a care–even though she knew I was heartbroken.” You brushed his hair back before hugging him again.

“She never did like me. It was pretty cruel of her to do that to both of us.” He was being much more gracious about it than he should have, a testament to his love for you that he didn’t want to bash your mother despite the damage she’d done.

“Miserable old bitch.” You had no qualms about calling her what she was.

“Forget about her. It’s okay now. Thankfully, we’re together again.” He grabbed his pistol and led you further into the house.

Your fingers drew the shapeless pattern onto the warm skin of his chest for what must have been the hundredth time since the both of you tumbled into his bed an hour ago. It was still pitch black outside, the only light being a candle on his bedside. The sun would creep in soon enough, though, and when it did, it would find the two of you clinging to one another.

“I hate that you went through this alone.” Your fingers migrated down to the starburst on the side of his lower stomach, tracing the edges of it softly.

“I’m lucky, I made a full recovery.” His voice was soft, “I saw others get much worse.”

“That doesn’t minimize this, Francisco, you could have died out there, and I never would have known.” You squeezed your eyes together for a moment, ignoring the implications, “Can you ever forgive me? For not writing?”

“Only if you can find it in you to forgive me for being away so long and for what happened.” He pulled your hand up, pressing your knuckles to his lips.

“You’re forgiven for everything.” You frowned, “We hadn’t discussed our future, everything was still so up in the air, and I was terrified to get pregnant. Not because I don’t want to have your children, I was just terrified you'd leave me again and then I'd be here, alone and with a baby.” His face fell, guilt swirling around his features. “That was before. I believe you when you say you won’t and that you’re here for good.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, then to his lips.

“I understand why that would have scared you. I shouldn’t have done it without permission, though. It was careless of me.” He pulled you closer, relishing in the contact just like he had in the early days. There was a beat, a comfortable silence, and it stretched on for a while, the two of you content to lay there until the stiffness of your dress pulled you away. He helped you take it off until you were in your simple shift, and then you took your place beside him once more.

“Francisco?” You murmured, wondering if he’d fallen asleep.

“Yes?”

“I never said, but I’m sorry about your parents.” He’d been gone for years when they passed.

“Me too.” He didn’t say more, and you didn’t press. “You should get some rest. Will you stay with me?”

“Yes, I don’t want to go.” He got up for a moment, pulling the rest of his layers off before blowing out the candle.

“Good, I didn’t want you to leave.” He slipped into the bed, pulling his sheet over the both of you before pulling you in close. “Goodnight, Honey.”

“Goodnight, Frankie.”

The sun shone bright enough to shoo the last vestiges of sleep away. It found you warm and comfortable under the comforting weight of his arm over your belly and his leg tangled with yours. He looked younger, asleep and you could almost see him just as he was when he’d left, fresh-faced and eager to see and do as much as he could. That fire for life and all it entailed, burning brightly in every expression.

Your thumb traced the line of his jaw first, sweeping up his chin to glide across his pursed lower lip. He twitched but didn’t wake, only tightened his grip on you. Your thumb slid up, following the curve of his nose, up to smooth across his brow.

He stirred again, humming softly before pressing closer still, burying his face into the crook of your neck and tickling you with his moustache.

“Is it morning already?” His voice was sleepy but laced with pure joy.

“Yes, it is. How did you sleep?” Your tone matched his, his joy was contagious, hope and happiness swirling in the air much like the dustmotes that danced in each shaft of light. Your hands had migrated down, fingers flitting across his broad back, relishing every inch, every errant freckle.

“Better than I have in years. How about you?” His lips made their own pilgrimage, from just below your ear, down the column of your neck, and down to your shoulder; each press of his lips widening the smile on yours.

“I slept really well. I forgot how warm you get when you sleep.” He laughed at this, good-hearted.

“Good, means you don’t need to wear this–” His hands slid under your shift, grabbing greedily at your thighs, then your backside.

“Very clever. Don’t you need to get up and go to work, Sheriff? Or am I under arrest?” There was no real bite behind your words.

“Hmm, I don’t know, are you? Are you here to confess to a crime? Aside from stealing my heart, that is.” You let out a bark of laughter, rising slightly to let him take the shift off of you despite the game.

“Is that what I’ve done? Stolen your heart?”

“Oh yes, years ago. First day you smiled at me, come to think of it.” He nodded sagely for a moment before pressing his lips to yours softly, making you both melt and drip for him.

“Well then, I guess I deserve my punishment.” You reached down, shimmying out of your underthings to bare yourself to him. He bit his lip before dipping low to lick at the stiff peak of your breast, soft as his kiss, before taking your nipple into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks. You moaned, watching him enraptured.

“I’ll be just and fair.” He smiled, after letting go with a pop, moving to the next one to give it the same treatment. Your fingers curled into his short crop while your thighs pressed together to alleviate the aching at your core. He sucked harder, frantically, and then there was the edge of pain when he bit softly, making you gasp for a second before he once again soothed with his tongue.

“God, woman, you make me crazy.” His eyes were wild for a moment before he claimed your mouth again, his tongue plundering without mercy.

“I want you, Frankie–give it to me.” You reached down to grasp him in hand, but he moved away, denying you.

“I want to make you feel good. Let me taste you again.” He moved down, his lips mapping a course down to where you wanted him most.

“I want you, though, Frankie, want you to make me sore. You can use your mouth later.” You held your arms out to him, and although he stared at your mound with hunger, he obeyed.

You spread your legs for him, and he slots his hips, pulling your legs high onto his thighs for a moment before sheathing himself in you with one brutal, delicious stroke.

“God, Frankie, you’re splitting me open.” You moaned the words into his ear, and his head dropped into your neck, groaning at your words.

You reach down to hold onto his ass, grabbing onto it as he thrusts.

“You want me like this? Or you want me on my knees like you used to like?” You whispered, and he moaned, his hips stuttering for a moment before pulling out. It was the only answer you needed before you moved to get into position, presenting yourself to him.

His thighs pressed against the backs of yours, his hand landing heavy on one ass cheek before he entered you from behind. He felt deeper this way, hitting something otherworldly with each press.

“That’s my girl, you gonna take my big dick Honey?” You moaned into your forearm, arousal burning bright as a coal in the pit of your belly from his words, from the slick sounds of your joining, from the way your nipples grazed against his bedding.

He bent forward, pulling at your arms to hold them behind your back, and once he did, his efforts doubled. He was a piston, ramming into you hard enough to make your breasts bounce, hard enough to make you scream for him.

He moved you again, pulling you up to meet the solid wall of his chest, his chin hooking over your shoulder, one hand holding onto your breast, the other sliding down to swirl around your clit, shoving you headlong into a blinding climax.

“That’s it, baby, God, I can feel you squeezing my cock. Where do you want me to come? Can I come on your ass?” His words sounded frantic, and you nodded, barely whispering the words.

“Yes, Frankie–” He let you go, and you pressed your face into the mattress once more, spreading your legs a little wider before you felt him pull out, feeling the way his hand grabbed and spread you open while the other one pumped between your legs. You felt the hot spurt of him on the cheeks of your ass and the small of your back just as you heard the filthy groan he let out.

You both caught your breath for a moment, riding the wave of release before he moved and within a few minutes, he passed a cool, wet cloth across your skin, cleaning his mess off before discarding it and falling into bed beside you.

There was sweat on his brow, there was sweat on yours, too, but it didn’t matter, the euphoria was rich and sweet as fresh cider.

“I missed you so much, Frankie.” You turned to face him fully, the two of you naked and comfortable.

“I missed you too, Honey.” He pulled you close, wrapping you up in his arms, where you belonged.

–

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