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mortytheestallion · 5 months

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let the light in

Word Count: 3.7k+

Warnings: Rick Sanchez x F!Reader, sex pollen, unprotected sex PIV, angst if you squint, cunnilingus, squirting, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), rick being kinda mean, this fic is 18+ minors dni

A/N: this was a fucking beast of a fic i've been trying to wrangle for months. based on this ask

>> Come over.

>> Emergency.

> real emergency? or morty didn’t like your vat of acid emergency?

>> I’m not gonna ask again.

Rick usually enjoys messing with you too much. He’ll beat around the bush as long as he can because it drives you insane. He loves to dangle the unknown in front of you for as long as possible, right up until you just can’t take it anymore.

You don’t bother to rush over anymore. You used to fall all over your apartment, scrambling to find your keys amidst paperwork and weekly takeout. Cursing and throwing piles of clothes everywhere, just for them to be sitting nicely on the hook you never use.

Only for Rick to need the screwdriver two feet to the left of him.

“It’s important I don’t get distracted,” He would grumble at your obvious frustration, a self-important thank you as you hand it over and he sends you back on your way.

Asshole.

Or the time he’d let Morty’s ointment sit too long, and you had to help wrangle him back home. You seemed to be the only one who got bit, however, as Rick made it away unscathed. Typical.

You let out a sigh, uneasiness settles like a stone deep within the pit of your stomach.

You don’t have time to look up from your phone before a portal appears in the corner of your room. You pause for a moment, taking in the green glow and slight pulsing sound. It must really be an emergency if he couldn’t even wait for you to make the drive. It wasn’t long by any means, but you can’t ever remember a time he’s gone out of his way to portal you over.

Slight annoyance runs through you at the convenience he’s withheld from you all this time, but you push it away. This must be urgent. That doesn’t stop you from lacing up your shoes, slowly rising to meet the portal before the familiar falling sensation hits. You still haven’t gotten used to it.

The garage is dark, save for something that glows blue in the corner. It's not lost on you that the house’s defense barricades are currently in place.

Rick’s sitting low on the chair he keeps at his workbench. Slouched as he braces his arms against his knees, long legs splayed open.

His hair is even more unruly than normal. There’s a cut above his eyebrow, and dried blood that mars his lower lip. His usual look of boredom adorns his face, yet the slight twitch of his lips betrays his cool demeanor as he looks you up and down.

Your instinct is to shrink away from him, but you hold Rick’s gaze. His signature lab coat is missing, his blue longsleeve is riddled with holes and burn marks. More dried blood makes it cling to his right side, but if it bothers him, he doesn’t show it. His long legs are spread wide as he casually lounges there, he looks much more broad than usual.

“Are you okay?” Your breath catches, “I mean, is everything okay?” You curse yourself at the way your voice quivers under his unrelenting gaze. You hate that he has this effect on you.

“I got hit on Gearworld-” Rick pauses, as if weighing whether or not to divulge more information, “Idiots are testing bioweapons on non-gear life forms.” His brow quicks at your panicked expression, he lazily holds one hand up to signal he’s going to continue.

“I know this isn’t —uh, what you imagine when you slip those pretty little fingers into your pants at night, but I really need your help.”

Your eyes go wide at his request. Sure you’ve helped him on all kinds of different planets in all different kinds of ways, but never anything like this. You can feel the heat creeping up your neck at the implications of what he’s asking. You can’t help but bite your lip, it doesn’t slip past you how Rick’s hips buck in response to the small action.

You can’t find the words. Why now? Why me?

“Now—now or never, baby,” His voice breaks your trance, “I got a fucking problem here and if you’re not into it don’t— I’m gonna take care of this myself.”

“Why me?” You bite your lip, suddenly shy as you shift your weight. He lets out a groan, his spare hand dragging across his face in annoyance. Always the drama queen.

“Are you really gonna make me say it?” You’re locked in a stalemate. His chest is heaving from whatever they’ve injected him with, although you have a pretty good idea by now. He looks at you like he’s hungry. It makes you lose your train of thought. He lets out a groan and a soft fuck. Pleasure shoots down your back and settles down deep in your spine, it makes you shudder.

““You didn’t think I wouldn’t notice the way you ogle me? I had to pull you out of an alien hole for god's sake, because you were too busy watching me instead of doing what I told you.”

“You’re such a dick!” Embarrassment washes over you like a flood. The blood rushing through your ears is so loud as it carries the thump thump thump of your heart.

It’s so Rick to have known about your feelings before you did. Part of you wishes you could crawl inside your apartment and never leave again. You’d just have to get used to the 24 DVDs piled against the TV, and apparently salisbury steaks are back. You could make that work.

“Yeah I’m a dick with a problem so either get riding or get the fuck out.”

Fuck he’s mean. You hate that it turns you on. You like to think that under different, less dire circumstances he’d be nicer. You know he cares for you, he wouldn’t keep you around if he didn’t. It’s so sick. You’re watching him get better, be better, and yet he seems to revert back just when you need him the most.

You take a step toward him and he’s on you, instantly. His shoulders drop as rushes to get his hands on you. He huffs rucking your pants down your thighs. You kick your pants off the rest of the way, watching as he wastes no time to rip your lacy underwear off your body.

“Fuck it feels good to do that for real,” you quirk an eyebrow at his statement, but he ignores you in favor of sucking a bruise where your hip meets your thigh. His other hand trails upward, tugging on your shirt to indicate he wants it off. You comply quickly, letting out a soft moan as he bites the tender flesh spot he’s been nursing below you.

Rick always runs warm, handprints burning into your skin as he grips any piece of you he can get his hand on. You whine at the loss of contact as he uses his workbench you’re pressed against as leverage to bring himself back up to your level.

You squirm underneath him, the press of the cool metal against your back combined with his rough clothes against your front proves overwhelming as he takes your face into his hands.

He kisses you like you’re air and he’s drowning.

You go limp against him, allowing him to lick into the wet cup of your mouth. The metallic taste floods your mouth, he’s kissing you so hard his lip resplit. You can feel yourself clench around nothing as you bite it and he groans.

His face is rougher, you realize, more than you imagined. Stubble rubbing against you as he makes his way down your neck sucking and biting. You can’t help the mewls coming from your mouth that he elicits, you can tell it’s fueling his ego as huffs below you.

His sweater itches against you, but the burn only fuels the arousal as it pools within your core, you whimper as his hand brushes against your front. Your soft sounds egg him on as he returns to your mouth, he gives your lip a rough tug with his teeth before plunging back in with his tongue.

Rick had always been rough with you, this was something else though. He shoves a knee between your thighs, groaning at how warm you feel against him. One hand reaches around to grip the back of your neck as the other catches the back of your thigh to bring your leg around his hip.

He grinds against you this way, holding you so tight you worry you might break in half. You sigh against him, desperate for any contact that allows pleasure to ripple through you as the rough material of his pants continues to catch against your clit.

Affection from Rick was so rare, you continue to drink in this feeling, relishing in being special enough to have him give you so much of his attention.

You let out a whine as he breaks the kiss, upset at the loss of contact. He sucks air in through his teeth as he leans back, taking a moment as his eyes rake over your body. You take this as an opportunity to explore him with your hands, taught skin supported by firm muscle bounces back against your fingers.

You don’t miss the way he’s straining against his pants, bulge prominent against the khaki adorning his legs.

You take the natural pause as an opportunity to push his sweater up indicating you want it off, he wastes no time to fulfill your request as he rips it from his body in the blink of an eye. Goosebumps raise on his skin as his bare form meets the cool air, Rick presses himself back against you seeking your warmth.

“Are you gonna fuck me, or-or are you just gonna—oh!” You squeal as he tweaks your nipple in warning, he gives into your request, nonetheless. You feel a slender finger drag down the length of your body. You lean forward to capture the corner of his jaw, biting softly to busy yourself as you wait for him to touch you.

Your heart leaps, a shudder makes its way down your spine as his fingers catch on your clit, giving his attention to where you need it the most. You’re already wet and warm for him, a low groan escapes his throat as he feels you.

He nudges a long finger between your folds, drinking in the sounds it pulls from you. He watches your expression intensely, the slightest indication of pleasure spurring him on as he seeks your validation.

You can tell he’s holding himself back, sweat beads along his hairline as he’s lost deep in getting you off. You wish you could reach out and smooth his furrowed brow, but you’re cockdumb on his fingers alone. You always thought it would be good with Rick, but you didn’t know it would be this good.

You buck into his hand as the arousal floods deep within the pit of your stomach, it's almost overwhelming how electric his touch feels.

He shifts underneath you, attacking the soft spot above your collarbone as he sucks the flesh tender. He removes his finger from your clit, choosing to run it through your soft slit instead. You moan loudly at the sudden shift in contact, he grunts in response, releasing your shoulder from his bite.

You open your eyes as he removes his hand, sucking in a breath as he brings it to his mouth and sucks.

You gush as he moans around his fingers, the sound vibrating through his chest as you watch him savor you. He releases them with a pop, a strand of salvia linking them back to his mouth. He doesn’t hesitate as he pushes those fingers into you, and you jolt at the sudden contact.

Your fingers are gripping the workbench so tight you’re sure if you looked down they’d be white. Your back arches as his fingers slide in easily to the knuckle.

“Is this what you wanted?” He murmurs, but you know he wouldn’t hear the answer even if you had one to offer him, eyes half mast watching his fingers pump in and out of the tight channel of your pussy. He slips another finger into you, and your arms give out at the wave of pleasure that assaults your senses.

Every muscle in your body tightens as he angles his hand so the flat edge of his palm can press against your clit. He continues to curl his fingers against the spongy piece inside you, focusing on how your cunt pulses slick and hot against him.

“Fuck– Rick, I-I might, I’m gonna—” He can barely hear you, too distracted by the lewd he elicits out of you. There’s sweat beading along your hairline, he can feel your lowering muscles spasming as he twists and scissors his fingers.

He picks up the pace, you can feel yourself dripping against his hand, clenching as your orgasm rapidly approaches. He moans as you grip his forearm, nails digging into the muscle.

“Fuck!” You cry out as he fucks his fingers up, he twists his hand to press circles against your clit and you scream. You clench hard around him in soft, hurried spasms that make him choke on the groan he was about to let slip. He feels the rush of liquid that flows out of you as you burst across his knuckles.

He watches as you arch off of his workbench, shuddering as he pulls pleasure out of you in waves. He thinks he could come in his pants from this alone, the pollen coursing through his veins making him lightheaded. His skin is too tight for his body, limbs feeling as though he’s moving through molasses.

Every time you touch him feels like a douse of cool water. He shakes his head, trying to clear the fog of heat that makes his vision blur. He wants to bring you closer, he’d bury himself inside of you, carve himself deep within your chest if he could. Every cell within his body is screaming, urging him to lick and suck and devour you.

“I can’t– I’m not gonna be able to be gentle with you,” you peer up at him, eyes wet from the intensity of your orgasm, “I won’t be able to take it slow.”

You swallow, eyes flicking down to his crotch before meeting his gaze.

“Do you think it’ll fit?”

He barks out a laugh before curling his fingers you didn’t realize were still inside you. You cringe, at both the tender feeling and the loud squelch that emits from below you.

“Yeah, yeah sweetie, it’s gonna fucking fit,” Rick wastes no time undoing his belt, wolfish grin ghosting his lips. He lets out a deep moan and fuck as he pulls himself out.

You can’t help the noise you make at the sight of it, he’s thick and leaking. You wish you had more time, you’d love to take him in your mouth and make him see god. You take him in your hand instead, brushing your thumb along the top of his cock and humming when his body jerks with it. He thrusts into your grip impatiently, your fingertips catching every ridge and crevice along his length.

You gasp as a calloused hand reaches up in one swift movement to grab your throat.

He enters you with one swift movement, pushing your legs up to get a better angle, ignoring the way you groan as your back hits the wall.

You ignore the pain, blooming for him—sucking him in with your molten heat that nearly blinds him. You want to make it good for him. You want him to know that you can be good for him. You want him to come back after a particularly rough day and bend you over his work bench, or call you in the middle of the night purring for you.

“Fuck, Rick, oh my god,” your eyes roll back, cunt contracting around him. He responds with a heavy slap to your ass that lurches you backward, almost off of him before he slams back into you. His strokes are deliberate and powerful, he fucks you so hard he can hear it.

He fucks and fucks you, every slam of his hips making your lashes flutter. You’re shuddering around him, walls spasming as you cross the line into overstimulation. You let out a strangled cry, your second orgasm hangs in front of your face and you start to push back against him, desperately seeking release.

Rick’s jaw clenches, clicking from an old injury. He’s trying to control himself, but you’re burning hot and tight as all hell. He bites the inside of his cheek as you blossom around his length, throwing his head back as the loud slap slap slap of his hips keeps you dripping on his cock.

You allow yourself to drink in Rick’s distracted state, dragging a soft hand up and down the side of his body, relishing in the way he shudders and gasps at your touch. The idea that he’ll discard you after this, making excuses about not being himself or reacting to the effects of pollen hits you like a truck. It almost sobers you out of your cock-drunk state.

He draws you out of your spiraling with a strained gasp as your fingers find tender flesh, you hesitate before digging into the soft muscle with your nails. It pulls on your heartstrings to willingly inflict pain on him, but any remorse is instantly washed away at the way his dick twitches inside you.

“Sh-shit, do that again,” Comes that dark, gritting baritone as he releases his grip on your legs, choosing instead to wrap a calloused hand around your neck, quickening his pace with sloppy thrusts. Rick lets out an honest to god moan and you clench around him. He pulls out abruptly, and you whine at the loss of contact.

Hurt floods your features, anxiety clawing its way up your chest at the smallest sign of rejection. There's not enough time to ruminate before he’s back on you, sliding to the hilt. You hiss at the return of pressure, pain searing into you. Adjusting around him, you slide your nails down his back. He moans arching into your touch.

“I don’t–,” He’s interrupted as a particularly deep thrust hits something spongy within you and you’re writhing under him. He captures your jaw in his firm grip forcing you to look up at him through hooded eyes.

You look utterly fucked out. Tears leaking from the corners of your eyes make his cock twitch, he’s ready to come but he needs to tell you first. He needs you to know.

“I don’t think you understand just how fucking long— ” Your eyes go wide, “I’ve wanted to hit this hot fucking cunt.”

Each of his words is punctuated with a particularly hard thrust. Your breath hitches in your throat at his confession.

“I know I’ve been a dick lately—”

“Jesus, fuck, Rick, just shut up and fuck me!” You can’t take it anymore, god knows how he’s doing it in his state. Your outburst earns you a hard slap to your ass that he’s holding off the edge of the workbench, whimpering as his fingers dig into the burning flesh. Part of you wanted to hear what he had to say, but you need it to be from him. Not from the Rick with aphrodisiac poison coursing through his veins.

The room is dense with the sound of wet flesh coming together again and again as he takes his thumb and rubs it over your clit in short, quick circles. His cock throbs inside you, you feel your pussy making room for him where you didn’t think possible, allowing him to carve you open and make you his. He grips your hips harder as you try to push away from him, the pleasure overwhelming.

“Uh-uh, I’m not done with you. You–you wanted the Rick, baby, I’m gonna make sure it’s worth your while.”

His pace begins to chase something frantic, you writhe under him as he licks a hot stripe up the side of your neck. You’ve been reduced to nothing but high pitched moans, panting and shivering under him. Your pleasure crests until you feel you’ll explode.

And you do. Your vision goes black as your orgasm racks your body and you explode wet– nearly pushing him out of you as you shove the heels of your hands into your eyes because you cannot look at him right now.

“Fuck,” He rasps, “Goddamn, did you— you just– you’re–,” it just melts into a pile of sounds before he’s groaning sinfully, a last, hard thrust before there is the telltale sprouting of warmth within you.

You're drunk on him, absolutely fucked out as your walls still spasm around him. You yelp as he drops you back on the workbench before dropping down to his knees.

He ducks his head to slide the flat of his tongue through your folds, tasting the slick that drips from you. You shudder, clumsy hands tugging his hair, pulling him off you. You manage to prop yourself up on one arm, looking down at him.

“God you’re fucking filthy.” “You like it.”

His chest is heaving, cock rehardening already from where it rests above the waistband of his unzipped pants. It makes you cringe, he must be in so much pain.

If he is, he doesn’t let it show. It's something you’ve always noticed about him, the lengths he goes to hide himself from the world. From you.

He’s given you this, even in his own fucked up way he’s given you this. It makes your heart swell. Worry picks at you from deep in your subconscious, but you push it away for now. You want to give him something back, he knows how you feel but you need him to know.

It’s why you’re sliding off the bench, sinking to your knees as he rises above you.

“Damn, I would’ve fucking injected myself with that shit if I had known it would’ve gotten you here like this, for me,” He’s so fucking smug, stupid smirk gracing his lips as you take him in your mouth. You’ll wipe it off though, prove to him why he chose you.

Make sure he’ll always want to choose you.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #rick sanchez x reader #rick sanchez fanfic #rick Sanchez/reader #Rick C-137

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cantstoptheimagines · 1 year

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Hunger (Carmy Berzatto | The Bear)

Summary — Things boil over between you and Carmy.

Warnings & Other Tags ➳ Smut (including a lowkey ‘Chef’ kink, Reader being referred to as ‘good girl’, also like one mention of birth control); Carmy mentions never having a girlfriend, so I’m rolling with that (aka Never-Been-Kissed!Virgin!Carmy is upon us!!); a little bit of angst on the side; mentions of childhood trauma and resulting body insecurities (Carmy); cursing (especially the canon-typical ‘Fuck!’); coworkers to lovers with a touch of idiots in love; some typical Original Beef arguments in the kitchen (including Carmy getting put in his place after being extremely mean); Reader accidentally gets burned by hot food; Reader is a waitress with an attitude; my attempts at casual, non-flowery, awkward, quiet conversation between Carmy and the Reader, so please don’t come after me if it sucks, lmao.

Notes ➳ Word Count is 7,942. This is a slow, slow, slow burn! Enjoy it, baby! ➳ Reader uses feminine pronouns (she/her). ➳ This is slightly inspired by the chaos of Season 1, Episode 7. I also want to add that this draft was started before the release of Season 2, so absolutely no spoilers in this one!

Everything was a complete mess. An expected lunch rush had sent everything and everyone at The Beef into chaos.

You had a line of customers waiting on takeout orders while others were hoping for a table to open up. Some had immediately turned around at the door after seeing the crowd.

Richie stood behind the counter, trying his best to keep up. He gave you a nod as you cleared another table. The fake, ‘customer service’ smile on your face fell as soon as you left the dining room and entered the kitchen. Angel and Manny were both instantly by your side, taking the dishes from your arms.

Your sigh of relief, however, didn’t last long. As soon as you turned, you were met by Sydney, who shoved a dish at you, shouting, “Hands! Once that’s out, I need you to come back for a sandwich and a salad!”

You barely caught the plate, replying, “Heard!”

The plate was warm against your hands. The food, however, was burning hot when it flew off the dish and onto your exposed skin as someone interrupted your cry of, “Corner—!”

The plate shattered once it hit the floor, covering the tile in a mess of food. Sauce dripped down your clothes and practically seared your flesh. Amidst the hectic kitchen, only Sydney seemed to notice. She stared at you with a shocked expression as tears welled up in your eyes from the pain.

“—fucking going?!”

You blinked, clutching your blistering hand. You could already feel your skin becoming overly tender. Tears began to slide down your cheeks. Nearby, Tina had paused to see what the commotion was about with concerned eyes.

In front of you stood Carmy. Out of everyone who worked at The Beef, he was the person you were closest to. However, that didn’t mean he wasn’t an asshole sometimes, especially when the restaurant was busy like today.

Your eyebrows furrowed, and then you quietly asked, “What?”

The flaring pain you were feeling made it almost impossible to focus on what anyone was saying or doing. Carmy’s words, on the other hand, were loud and clear as he took a step closer and shouted, “I asked if you can watch where you’re fucking going?!”

Your cheeks were wet with tears, which you couldn’t stop from falling, no matter how hard you blinked. Carmy was toe-to-toe with you. He was so close that you could see the sweat on his skin and the red flush of his cheeks. His teeth were gritted as he stared at you with fiery eyes.

“Carmy,” you took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment, “don’t yell at me.”

He came even closer, shoes nearly slipping on the sauce that covered the tile. You avoided meeting his gaze as you continued holding your injured hand. Thankfully, the other one wasn’t as bad, though it still ached.

“Why the fuck not, huh?!” he continued. “Open your damn eyes next time—!”

“Carmy, stop!” you demanded. “I’m hurting right now and you’re not helping—!”

“Maybe you wouldn’t be if you used your fucking brain!” he snapped, taking two fingers and harshly tapping them against your temple.

You tried to take a step back, only for him to follow. You pressed your lips together in an effort to contain yourself. Sure, you were used to Carmy’s regular outbursts, but this was on a whole other level.

His nose brushed against yours with how close he was standing. Sydney reached out, placing an arm between the two of you, though it wasn’t much help. Tina was slowly coming closer. Everyone else in the kitchen had stopped working to cautiously watch the scene. Even Richie had paused service in the front to stand in the kitchen doorway, ready to step in if he needed to.

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that, Carmy—!”

“I’ll do whatever I fucking want—!”

Richie finally spoke up, “Hey, cousin, leave ‘er alone, alright—?”

“I’m gonna fuck you up if don’t get outta my face—!”

Sydney was beginning to sweat, “Chef! Please calm down—!”

“If you can’t handle the heat, stay out of my fucking kitchen—!”

SLAP!

“¡Ay, mierda!” exclaimed Tina, mouth agape as your uninjured hand suddenly struck Carmy’s cheek.

The silence that took over was almost deadly. Carmy licked his lips and clenched his jaw. His cheek was already turning bright red with your handprint. A million thoughts ran through his mind as he stared at you.

“If you don’t have anything nice to say to me,” you glared, “then don’t fucking talk, Carmen! You can fuck off instead!”

Carmy kissed his teeth, refusing to open his mouth. Instead, he watched as you whipped around and stormed away from him. You were once again holding your injured hand, in which the pain was only growing worse by the second, as you disappeared around a corner without looking back.

Carmy closed his eyes and ran his hands over his face. He didn’t even need to look at the expressions of his coworkers’ faces to know that he had fucked up big time.

His eyes met Sydney’s as he tugged at his thick hair. She, however, only turned away and returned to calling out orders after shaking her head. Richie, meanwhile, gave him the finger before going back to the front to continue lunch service. Everyone else in the kitchen either gave him harsh glares or stares of disappointment.

“Chef!” he called out, gaining Sydney’s attention. “I’ll be back in a few!”

Sydney slowly nodded, “Heard!”

Carmy glanced down, looking at the mess that covered the kitchen tile, along with his work shoes. Pieces of the shattered plate were spread about as well.

“I’ll clean this up when I get back,” he said, gesturing to the floor.

“Heard!” repeated Sydney, though Carmy could tell she wished he would just leave already.

“Thank you, Chef,” he muttered.

As he passed by Marcus, the usually kind pastry chef glared at him, “You’re a real mess, Berzatto.”

Carmy sighed, slowly making his way around the same corner you disappeared behind only moments ago, “Tell me about it.”

Ebra shouted after him with a bark of laughter, “We don’t have to! You’re gonna find out when you go back there!”

Carmy rolled his eyes, turning the knob on the door that led to the back lot. That was where everyone, including you, disappeared whenever they needed to be alone.

He immediately spotted you sitting on the ground with the restaurant’s first aid kit in front of you. The injury on your hand was now covered with some burn relief gel.

You barely even glanced in his direction when the door closed behind him. The air outside was rather cold and Carmy could see the chills that covered your skin.

He nervously wrapped his hands in the hem of his apron, and then cleared his throat, “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” you shook your head.

He paused, unsure of what he should say next as he blinked a few times. Finally, he licked his lips and stared down at his shoes, “Are you—uh—are you okay? I mean, you’re good?”

You scoffed quietly, shaking your head with a sardonic smile as you finished wrapping your injury with some gauze, “No, Carmy, I’m not good. Fucking asshole.”

Carmy took a deep breath, nodding slowly, “Yeah, yeah, alright. I deserve that. You—uh—gonna go early? Home, I mean? Go home early?”

You slammed the first aid kit closed, the latch snapping into place with a click! Standing up, you shoved it into Carmy’s arms, causing him to grunt at the impact against his chest.

“Yes,” you said, “I’m going fucking home early.”

He groaned as you pushed past him to go back inside. He slowly trailed behind you, watching you collect your coat and keys. He grimaced at the loud SLAM! of your employee locker. He knew everyone in the kitchen secretly had their ears open, each of them trying to figure out how badly Carmy had messed things up with you.

As you tried to slip past him once more, he reached out to place an arm across your front. He remained facing the empty room of employee lockers while you were facing the kitchen, forced to endure the cautious eyes of your coworkers.

With a sigh, you finally turned your gaze to him, unsure of what to make of his actions, “What?”

“Go to the doctor, alright?” he muttered, eyes gliding over your features.

Everything was much calmer now. Everyone in the kitchen seemed to have finally cleared out some of the crowd, leaving only a few stragglers. Each of them took an occasional glance at the two of you.

You bit your bottom lip. You couldn’t help but be fully aware of the way Carmy’s startling blue eyes suddenly dropped to focus on your mouth. And you definitely couldn’t stop your own gaze from doing the same, admiring the soft pink shade of his lips.

Maybe it was wrong to be so attracted to your boss. But when your boss was Carmy, you didn’t really care. And there were times, like now, when it felt as though he didn’t care either.

Sure, he could be a real asshole sometimes, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t easy on the eyes. Your eyes, more specifically.

“Yo, cousin, we’ve got—! Oh!”

Carmy finally tore his stare away from you, and said, “Just a sec, Richie.”

“Yeah,” nodded Richie, tossing his hands into the air. “Yeah, sure. Didn’t mean to interrupt... whatever this is.”

Carmy rolled his eyes before finally returning his attention to you. His stare softened and his fingers dug into the clothing that covered your hip with a gentle squeeze.

“Doctor,” he whispered, “‘kay?”

You finally muttered, “Okay, Bear.”

Carmy gave you a nod, heart pounding when he heard his nickname fall from your lips. Your hip received a few pats and a gentle rub before his arm disappeared from your path. As you walked away, he finally turned to face everyone in the kitchen, all of whom had their eyes on him.

“Well,” he said, running a hand through his hair, “get back to fucking work!”

At the same time, he could hear you ordering Richie, who had followed you to the front, to ‘shut his fucking mouth’.

You unlocked the back entrance of The Beef. It was way past closing time and each of your coworkers had already gone home. In fact, you had only come back to get the tips you had left behind after your argument and semi-reconciliation with Carmy.

You flicked on one set of smaller lights before making your way through the kitchen and into the front room. Richie always cashed out your tips for you before his shift over and tonight was no different. On the counter, right next to the register, you found a wad of cash and a sticky note with your name on it.

Unfortunately, you were too focused on counting out the money to notice someone appear in the doorway. That is, until they spoke, “Hey.”

You gasped in surprise, clutching at your chest in a failed attempt to stop your pounding heart, “Fuck! Are you trying to kill me?!”

Carmy smiled down at his feet as he leaned against the kitchen’s door frame. He watched you shove your tips into the pocket of your heavy coat. He nodded towards your hand, and asked, “Rent due?”

You nodded back, “Yeah. Tomorrow morning.”

He hummed quietly, “See a doctor?”

“Yeah,” you replied. “Gave me some stuff to put on it. They said it should be good in a week or two. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it was gonna be.”

“Right,” he said, twisting the hem of his apron around his hands.

He watched your eyes drift to where his fingers wrapped themselves in the blue fabric. The realization that the two of you were alone, without the stress of your loud coworkers or a line of customers, overwhelmed him.

“You do that a lot, ya know,” you said, gesturing to his hands, “when you’re nervous and stuff.”

He shuffled awkwardly, shook his head, and then shrugged, “Hard not to be. We cool?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. One of Carmy’s hands rose to his lips, allowing him to anxiously bite his nails, while the other disappeared into his pocket. The soft glow coming from the back of the kitchen made him look like an angel.

A tired, fidgety, nervous wreck of an angel.

It was hard for him to breathe when you suddenly moved closer and closer until you stood mere inches away from him. He stared at your hand that untucked itself from your coat pocket. Yet, it wasn’t until you gently wrapped your fingers around his forearm, tugging his hand away from his nail-biting habit, that he knew it was over for him.

“Carmy?”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”

His mind flashed back to all the times Richie had caught him staring at you and made fun of him for doing so.

And how after Sydney had first met you, she turned to him after you had walked away and quietly asked if you were his girlfriend.

And the way Tina almost beat his ass earlier for shouting at you so viciously after everyone else had left for the night, leaving him to wallow alone in his office.

Or the way he couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting to your lips while your hand gently rubbed his arm, listening closely as you whispered, “We’re cool.”

“Good,” he muttered.

Your lips parted with a soft, shuddering gasp. Slowly, Carmy had tilted his head and began leaning in. Your grip on him tightened just as his free hand untucked itself from his pocket. His palm slid under your coat and landed on the same hip he had held earlier that day.

His nose brushed against yours. His fingers dug into you, splayed out against your clothed waist. His eyes slowly fell shut as did yours. After that, it didn’t take long before your lips met his.

You could feel the warmth of his cheeks when you placed your palms against them. You pulled him closer until you could wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, intertwining your fingers in his hair.

Carmy’s lips moved against yours tentatively. His other hand slowly slipped beneath your coat to caress your back. He groaned at the feeling of you gently scratching his scalp as your fingers ran through his hair.

Slowly, he pulled away, but only slightly. Your hands dropped to his shoulders and then traveled along his strong arms before finally wrapping around his waist. His apron loosened when you tugged at the strings.

Carmy felt his cheeks warm as he allowed you to remove the blue fabric from his body. He watched it fall to the floor and then made an effort to copy your movements, gently pushing your coat off your shoulders before letting it join his apron.

He sighed softly when you pressed your lips against his in a series of short, gentle kisses, “I’ve—uh—I’ve never…”

He trailed off quietly, feeling slightly embarrassed. Richie had always given him shit for being a virgin. But Carmy had gone through life without friends, let alone girlfriends.

“Carmy?”

His lip quivered when his eyes met yours again. He was surprised to find your gaze void of judgment. Instead, you gave him a small smile and gently pressed your hands into his lower back. He hummed quietly when you repeated his name.

Glancing at his lips, you murmured, “Do you want to?”

Despite the millions of thoughts running through his mind, he was still very clear, albeit quiet, with his answer, “With you? Yeah.”

You nodded silently. One of your hands gently pushed some of his thick, messy hair behind his ear. His eyes fell closed at the feeling.

“Was that your first kiss?”

“You gonna laugh at me if it was?” he asked.

You smiled at the way his cheeks flushed with red, and replied, “‘Course not. It’s like that for lots of people.”

He licked his lips, opening his eyes. His fingertips went deeper into your hips. Fuck, you were being so nice to him.

“It was,” he confessed. “That was my first kiss. I’ve never done any of it. Dates, girlfriends, none of it.”

“Okay,” you said, still allowing your fingers to trace through his hair. “You still want to?”

He paused, eyes exploring your features, “Yeah.”

“We can stop any time you want,” you said. “Don’t be afraid to tell me if you’re uncomfortable.”

Carmy licked his lips again, hooded eyes drifting to your mouth. Slowly, he nodded and pressed his forehead against yours. His eyes closed and your noses brushed. He could his heart pounding in his chest, briefly wondering if you could as well as he collided his lips with yours once again.

His fingers delved deeper into your hips. Your hands, meanwhile, tugged at his thick hair, forcing a grunt out of him. He was surprised by how much he liked the feeling.

Pulling away, though not far enough to avoid the kisses that were now being pressed onto his jaw, Carmy quietly gasped for air, head tilting back as he asked, “Can we go to my office?”

He felt you nod against him in response. He then tugged you along in the direction of his office, biting his lip at the feeling of your mouth on his warm skin. He turned the two of you so that he could see where he was going. Not that doing so was much help since his eyes began fluttering at the feeling of a gentle bite sinking into the flesh of his neck.

One of his hands left your hip momentarily. His palm gripped at one of the metal counters in the kitchen, barely steadying himself. He was nearly tripping over his own feet, distracted by the pleasure you were already sending throughout his body.

His hand quickly left the countertop. It found a new place on the back of your neck, but only after the two of you finally made it into his office, where he immediately pulled you into another kiss.

Slowly, your hands disappeared from his hair, opting to slip beneath the fabric of his shirt and gently scratch his back instead. You smiled against his lips, nearly breaking the kiss, upon noticing him shiver at the feeling. He practically arched into you, both of his hands moving to your cheeks in order to deepen the kiss.

His white shirt complimented the golden chain around his neck. It was something you had seen him wear plenty of times. And for Carmy, he wasn’t sure if he wanted that to change just yet.

He paused when you began to slide his shirt up, obviously preparing to remove it from his body. He gently wrapped his hands around your forearms to stop you. His lips then moved away from yours. His head ducked as he cleared his throat, avoiding your concerned gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, eyes beginning to burn. “I’m—uh—It’s just—I don’t—I don’t think—! Shit, I’m sorry! Sorry! Sorry—!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” you interrupted, gently wiping away any tears that had started to make an appearance on his cheeks. “It’s okay. You’re okay, Carmy.”

He sniffled, cheeks warming with embarrassment, upon having felt your hands withdraw from underneath his shirt. His breathing had quickened, along with his heartbeat.

Carmy hid his face against your neck when one of your arms wrapped around him. You softly rubbed the space between his shoulders. Your other hand gently stroked the back of his head, fingers running through his hair once more. Meanwhile, his hands had dropped to your ribs in an effort to steady himself again.

“We can stop—”

He interrupted you within seconds, shaking his head as he finally met your eyes, “No. I don’t want to. I—uh—I’m just—my childhood wasn’t the best, ya know? Parents were always fightin’ over stupid shit. And sometimes, my dad—well, he—uh—he’d take some of it out on us—”

“Oh, Carmy,” you whispered, leaning your forehead against his.

He continued, caressing your ribs with his thumbs, “He didn’t do it a lot, but, ya know, my back’s kinda, like, got scars and stuff.”

Pulling him closer, you nodded, still allowing him to lead the conversation, “Okay. Okay.”

“I promise I wanna do this,” he sniffled again before taking a deep sigh, “but I wanna keep my shirt on. For now anyway. For this time.”

You nodded again, giving him a small smile and lightly tracing the variety of small freckles on his cheeks, “Of course. Anything you want.”

Carmy hesitantly met your eyes. The startling ocean blue sent chills down your spine, especially when he muttered, “God, you’re so fucking sweet.”

He didn’t give you a chance to reply. Instead, his hands traveled to your back and pushed you against him in a quick, unwavering motion. He groaned at the feeling of your fingertips imprinting themselves into the fabric of his shirt. His lips moved against yours in yet another heated kiss, though this one was much more desperate than the others had been.

In that moment, as your hands wandered along his clothed back, venturing to the waistband of his pants, Carmy could picture himself falling in love with you.

In the space between your kisses, gasps of air escaped your throat, “Let me make you feel good, Bear.”

Carmy nodded. His lower back gently collided with the edge of his desk. He watched as you slowly undid his pants. He groaned and his cheeks flushed red at the sight of you lowering to your knees. One of his hands shifted to grip his desk while the other raked through his hair.

Before he knew it, his pants were pooling around his ankles and his hard-on was showing prominently through his briefs. His head tilted back and his gaze met the ceiling as your fingers delved into the waistband of the fabric covering his throbbing cock.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, closing his eyes.

“Carmy?” your quiet voice cut through the tension. “You still okay?”

“I’m fucking perfect,” he whispered. “Please keep going.”

Your amusement was obvious. Carmy hissed when your smiling lips met the flesh of his stomach. He slightly tugged up the hem of his shirt in order to give you more access to his briefs, trying to prepare himself for his first blowjob ever.

The hand that had been in his hair quickly entangled itself in your own. His briefs were slowly being removed with every kiss you gave his skin, your movements trailing lower and lower with every passing second. You stopped at the last possible moment, pulling away and giving a final tug at his briefs.

At last, they fell, finding their place around Carmy’s ankles, alongside his pants. He couldn’t help but watch as his cock sprang free, nearly slapping against his stomach. You eyed it for a moment, licking your lips at the sight of the dark vein on the side and the way it curved slightly to the left.

Carmy took your pause for negativity. His thumb softly caressed your temple as he murmured, “You alright—? Oh, shit!”

He was suddenly on cloud nine. Fire burned in his chest. Both of his hands moved to tightly grip the back of your neck. One of your hands grasped onto his tense forearm while the other held his cock. Your tongue traced over the vein that you had been admiring.

His eyes closed and his head tilted back. He could feel you smiling as you pressed a kiss against his cock’s mushroom-shaped head. Your lips trailed along his length until you reached his balls.

“Fuck!” he groaned, mouth falling open.

The way your tongue lapped at his balls while your hand stroked his swollen length set his stomach on fire. He could feel a layer of sweat beginning to appear on his forehead.

You were a fucking god. And Carmy felt ready to worship you.

Suddenly, you were at the head of his cock again, slowly taking him into your warm mouth. Carmy looked down to watch it happen and nearly came at the sight of you.

Your lips stretched around him. His hands moved to be on either side of your face, gently caressing your temples with the pads of his thumbs. Both of your palms wrapped around his bare thighs.

Carmy hissed at the feeling of his cock disappearing into your mouth as you began bobbing your head along his length. Though when he felt you fondle his balls with a sudden squeeze, he couldn’t stop an abrupt buck of his hips.

You gagged when the head of his cock hit the back of your throat. He furrowed his eyebrows, concerned, as you pulled away, gasping for air. He wiped away the saliva that had built up at the corners of your lips, “Shit! You okay? I didn’t—I didn’t mean to do that!”

You sniffed, laughing as you brushed off the small tears that came from your eyes, “Yeah, I’m good.”

Unsure of what to say, Carmy nodded silently. He continued tracing your temples in an effort to comfort you, trying to ignore his cock, which continued to throb between his legs. Meanwhile, you rubbed at his thighs, still trying to catch your breath.

“Hey, hey,” he muttered, tilting your head upwards to meet his gaze, “you sure you’re alright?”

Your eyebrows rose, your fingertips dug into his flesh, and then you smiled, “I’m fine. But Carm?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re fucking huge.”

And in yet another wave of shyness, Carmy couldn’t stop the blush that appeared on his face. You chuckled, leaning forward to kiss the space above his pelvis, slowly wrapping a hand around his cock once more. Your eyes remained on him as his lips fell open and moans escaped his chest.

“Hey?” you muttered.

He watched as you leaned against his stomach, resting your chin atop the fabric of his shirt to stare up at him. He shivered at the way your pupils grew. They nearly overtook your irises, leaving only a sliver of their nature shade.

“Yeah?”

Your teeth dug into your lower lip. Carmy admired the glow that had overwhelmed your skin. He shuddered when your hand tugged particularly hard at his cock.

“Can you fuck my face, Chef?” you whispered. “I want your cock down my throat ‘til I can’t breathe.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, thumbs softly caressing your cheeks. “You sure? I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you breathed. “I want you to feel good, Carmy.”

He hissed at the sudden feeling of your tongue once again tracing over his length. The head of his cock was then repeatedly kissed in a soothing pattern. One of his hands moved to tightly grip the edge of his desk. The other continued smoothing over the skin of your cheek as you took him back into your mouth.

With a hand on his thigh and the other shifting to wrap around his forearm, you slowly dragged his hand to the back of your neck. Carmy panted heavily at the feeling of his hard cock sinking deeper into your throat. He successfully held back his quivering hips, not wanting to accidentally choke you a second time.

His fingers dug into your skin, his mouth fell open, and heat rose beneath his skin. He looked down to find you with nearly his entire cock in your mouth. The sensation of your tongue swirling around him made him want to cum on the spot. And he nearly did so when your lips finally met the base of his cock.

Your nose dug into his pelvis. He then felt the mushroom-shaped head of his cock reach the back of your throat, only you didn’t pull away for a fresh burst of air this time. He caressed the back of your neck in an effort to ease the tension.

Tears welled in the corners of your eyes, soaking your eyelashes. You were doing your best to breathe through your nose. His grip on you tightened when your eyes suddenly looked up at him.

The sight of you staring at him with tear-filled eyes and your lips stretched around his cock made him curse. Both hands quickly returned to your face so he could brush away the glistening tears. After admiring your flushed appearance, he muttered, “You ready?”

He took the moan you let out around his length as confirmation. The vibrations of it, along with the way your fingers were now tightly grasping at the backs of his thighs in preparation, made him hiss with pleasure.

He groaned at the wet sounds of your mouth as he began gently thrusting in and out of your throat. He cursed repeatedly, especially when you continued to moan around him. Upon seeing you shut your eyes, however, he patted your cheek to bring your focus back to him.

He smiled down at you when you met his gaze, “Eyes on me, alright? You’re makin’ me feel so—ah!—good right now. Oh, fuck! You’re fucking amazing, ya know that? Oh!”

Heat was growing in the pit of your stomach when you realized how much pleasure you were giving him. You could feel yourself becoming wetter and wetter by the second.

You couldn’t help but gag around him when he suddenly gave a rough thrust. You were sure his thighs would have finger-shaped bruises by the end of the night with how strong your grip on him was.

Carmy’s thrusts were picking up pace. He tossed his head back, eyes shut tight and his mouth agape with silent moans. You wanted him to fuck your face? Then he would do exactly that.

He repeatedly shoved you down to the base of his cock. With every thrust of his hips, he felt his balls slap against you. The sounds of you practically gasping for air as you choked on his length made him shiver with a blissful expression.

“Fuck!” he groaned. “So fucking good! You’re perfect, ya know?”

His moans continued. The echoes of his cock pumping in and out of your mouth caused warmth to slowly build up within the pit of his stomach. With a few final thrusts, he pressed himself as deep as he could into your throat.

You choked around the sudden release of cum that flooded your mouth. Your eyes squeezed shut as Carmy pressed you further onto his length. Your nose dug into the skin of his pelvis and you were slowly losing the ability to breathe.

Carmy grunted, now gazing down at you with heavily lidded eyes, as his cock released thick, white ropes of his cum. He huffed in an effort to regain his breath. You, however, made that difficult with each and every time you swallowed around him, taking in all of his cum without a second thought.

His cock was still hard when you finally pulled away. Your tongue ran over the tip while one of your hands moved to stroke his length. Before you could send him tumbling into overstimulation, Carmy tugged you upwards.

His lips met yours in a searing kiss, barely able to keep hold of you between heavy pants. You could practically feel his confidence finally starting to bloom within him.

Twirling in order to switch your positions, you tugged him closer, urging him to help you onto his messy desk. He quickly did so after reaching out to shove aside what seemed like a million unorganized papers. They fell to the floor, some even crumpling beneath his shoes as he stepped on them.

His large, tattooed hands slipped beneath your shirt as he moaned at the feeling of your lips against his neck. He grasped onto the back of your bra and tugged... to no avail. Thankfully, you didn’t seem to notice.

His face flushed red, especially when your clothed thighs squeezed closer to his hips. His cock began to throb as it met the covered space between your legs, desperate and eager for what was to come.

Carmy furrowed his eyebrows and tried a second time to unclasp your bra. When it refused to budge, he couldn’t help but curse. And he nearly let out another when your affections came to a pause.

Your kisses slowed. Pressing one against his ear, you whispered, “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied.

You tried not to laugh when you felt another tug, “Carm? D’you need help?”

He cursed a little louder. You bit down on your bottom lip, trying to conceal a grin as you tucked your face into the crevice of his shoulder. When he confirmed your suspicions, you leaned away and did your best to give him a warm, comforting smile. You unhooked your bra and removed it from beneath your shirt with ease, tossing it aside.

Carmy’s expression shifted into one of frustration, though his eyes shined with a bit of awe, “How the fuck did you do that?”

Your hands ran over his shoulders as you asked, “Really wanna have that conversation right now?”

He paused for a moment, seemingly taking some time to think over your words, “Fuck no.”

You allowed yourself to laugh that time, “Then come here.”

Carmy found it difficult to breathe when you tugged him closer. The scent of your shampoo fogged his mind as he hid your face against your neck. Your hands guided his, leading them beneath your shirt. He let out a deep sigh when his palms met the warmth of your skin.

As his hands began tentatively exploring your breasts, he tried to ease his nerves by layering a series of open-mouthed kisses against the column of your throat. Meanwhile, you busied yourself with undoing your pants.

“You have big hands, Carm,” you muttered, leaning your cheek against his messy head of hair as he indulged him in his affections.

Big, warm, tattooed hands. His thumbs ran over your nipples occasionally as he gently squeezed you. His fingers dug into the plush of your skin.

Despite having little room with the way Carmy was leaning against you, you managed to push your pants off your waist, shifting your hips in order to do so. As he continued palming at your breasts, he flushed a deeper shade of red, thankful his face was still hidden from your view.

“Is that a good thing?” he questioned. “Big hands?”

He felt you nod in response, “It’s hot.”

In more ways than one, he believed, due to the heat building up in his stomach. His forehead had developed a thin layer of sweat as well. He followed your lead when you directed his hands to your hips instead. When his fingertips met the hem of your underwear, he inhaled sharply.

“Think you can get these off without any help?”

He stopped pressing warm kisses against your neck to meet your gaze. With narrowed eyes, he tilted his head at your teasing tone, licking his lips with an amused grin, “Shut up. What happened to the nice, sweet, good girl from before?”

Holy shit.

His comment made you pause. Your semi-arrogant smile fell, becoming one of shyness instead. Carmy’s, on the other hand, brightened. He had somehow managed to turn the tables. Seems like it was your turn to be embarrassed.

He ran his hands over your thighs, gently pulling you closer. He continued to smile as you avoided his gaze.

“Hey,” he muttered, placing a hand on your cheek and encouraging your eyes to meet his, “d’you like it when I call you that?”

His smile was softer now. His body language, however, was giving off a newfound confidence, something you didn’t get to see very often. But with the way he caressed your skin, palms rubbing you soothingly in a steady pattern, you could tell he genuinely wanted to know.

He furrowed his eyebrows when you offered a mumbled reply, “Hmm?”

With shivers running along your spine and an affirming nod, you repeated yourself, “I do. Yes.”

“Yes, who?” he asked, cursing himself only seconds later for the question.

You couldn’t stop yourself from taking a deep breath in surprise. Your eyes fell to his lips, thinking about feeling them on yours again. Carmy watched you carefully when they did so. His cock throbbed heavily between his legs as the head gently bumped against your clothed entrance with every move he made.

You met his eyes again when his fingers delved into the flesh of your thigh. Admiring his blown pupils, you answered, “Yes, Chef.”

Both of his hands came to your hips. His fingers sunk into the hem of your underwear as he whispered, “Can I?”

He slowly slid the fabric down your legs when you gave him a whispered confirmation. Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, you pulled him closer. His lips hovered over yours with a groan as your free hand wrapped around his cock.

“Are you sure?”

Carmy’s eyes, which had been squeezed shut, slowly fluttered open. They flew over your features before he finally nodded, “Yeah.”

Your lips met his in a soft kiss before your forehead came to rest against his. With your hand gently stroking his length, Carmy couldn’t stop himself from letting out a gasp. He looked down to watch your movements with desperate, hooded eyes.

You ran the mushroom head through your wet folds. Carmy would’ve been embarrassed by his fascination at the way his cock glistened with your wetness if he wasn’t too busy groaning in pleasure.

“Gotta go slow, okay? I’ll have to adjust,” you said, and then a quiet laugh filled the air between the two of you. “Like I told you, you’re big.”

Carmy was sure his skin was cherry red by now, due to a combination of the growing heat in his stomach and your compliments. His mouth fell open and his eyebrows furrowed when your hand eased the head of his cock into your entrance. He couldn’t stop his fingers dug into your skin, creating indents on your thighs.

Arms encasing your lower back, he pressed himself closer, furthering the reach of his cock. His chest met yours, both of your shirts rubbing against the other. He could both see and feel your hardened nipples through the fabric.

Your hand that had been guiding him moved upwards, threading through his thick, unruly hair. He didn’t even need to move for you to start letting out a series of gasping moans. The sheer size of him was enough.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you nudged him as close as you could. His warmth melted into yours. His skin was aglow with heat, effort, and sweat. His length sinks deeper, stretching you wide and open for him. You hiss at the feeling.

Oh, yeah. He’s definitely the biggest you’ve ever had.

You kiss the bridge of his nose as you adjust to his size. Carmy quickly raises his head so his lips can meet yours. It’s a struggle, given how difficult it is for either of you to properly breathe at the moment.

Carmy’s cheeks are flushed red entirely. He’s burning on the inside with a newfound desperation for you. His cock throbs inside your walls and he feels as though he’s being drowned in your body by the pressure. Meanwhile, you can hardly focus on anything besides the noises he continuously lets out.

He hisses and groans with every shift, not expecting the feeling to be so tight. You’re dripping with so much arousal that it’s nearly soaking his pelvis and thighs. As his hands traveled under the fabric of your shirt to practically claw at your back, he can’t help but think about how the feeling of you around him is infinitely better than that of his own fist.

In that moment, Carmy knew you had ruined him for anyone else. He was completely, without any doubt in his mind, yours. And fucking proud of it too.

“You can move,” you whispered, strengthening your grip around his shoulders and tugging at his hair.

One of his arms curled further around you. His palm landed between your shoulder blades, slowly gliding over your skin that was hidden beneath your shirt. The other wrapped around your lower back.

His cheek leaned against yours as he gasped heavily into your ear after the first roll of his hips. Your hand continued to pull at his dark strands of hair, the other tangling itself in his shirt.

Slowly, he rocked into you, the pace starting off easy and unhurried. Given his size, you could already feel the head of Carmy’s cock gently bumping against your cervix. You gasped heavily with each of his movements. Your body writhed against him.

“Faster,” you muttered. “Carmy, go faster. Oh, fuck, please.”

Carmy melted at the way your moans echoed throughout his office. He huffed repeatedly with effort as his thrusts steadily increased. The slapping of skin, along with the slick sounds of your wet entrance, filled the room. Carmy couldn’t help but curse when your teeth suddenly sunk into the crevice of his neck.

“Shit!” he exclaimed. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good! Could stay inside you forever! Damn it! Wanna stay, wanna stay!”

Your mind felt empty of anything besides Carmy. His warm breath hitting your skin as he rambled on and on. The way he clawed at you desperately, trying to bring you impossibly closer. How his balls were repeatedly slapping against your dripping arousal.

“Carmy!” you whined, trying your best to redirect his grip on you, which was rather difficult due to his lightning pace. “Here! Touch me here! Make me cum! Make me let go on your cock! Oh, shit, you’re—ah!”

You guided his fingers against your clit. Despite his state of pleasured delirium, Carmy seemed to understand what you wanted from him. He massaged the bundle of nerves, sending shockwaves down your spine.

The tightly wound cord within you finally snaps. You cry out, gripping onto Carmy in order to gain at least some sense of stability. He continues to rut in and out of you like no tomorrow.

The only inclination that he knows you’ve finally cum is the pitchy moan he lets out when your walls constrict his cock with every wave of release. His hand is covered in your cum and he can’t stop himself from pulling his face out of hiding.

With one arm still around you and his hips still slapping loudly, he’s quite the vision when he suddenly brings his fingers to his mouth. It’s then, as he gets a taste of you, that he decides you’re his new favorite meal. In just one night, you’ve made him insatiable.

His hand goes for another round, trying to collect more of your wetness on his fingertips. Meanwhile, you’re beginning to collapse into overstimulation. You take to pressing your forehead against Carmy’s shoulder, panting and huffing as his throbbing length continues to delve deep into your dripping hole.

Carmy’s trying his best to take in every bit of you that he can, repeatedly collecting your release to press against his tongue as he pounds into you. He rubs at your clit with reckless abandon, craving more of the taste.

“Please, please,” he begged, distressed at the very idea that you might not cum again. “Wanna keep tasting you! You’re so fucking good!”

He’s unaware that your moans are no longer coherent. The only thing that continues to tumble from your lips is the sound of your uncontrollable gasps for air and an occasional curse.

Given it was his first time, you hadn’t expected him to have so much stamina. His thrusts seemed impossibly fast, pistoning in and out of you at lightning speed without a second thought.

Sinking against him, another orgasm washed over you as your mouth fell open in a silent scream. Carmy groaned at the feeling of your walls tightening around his cock, “Fuck, I can’t—! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum, fuck, oh—!”

His entire lower half rolls into you. He can feel crescents forming in his skin with how deep your nails are digging into him. He thrusts again, once, twice, and then a third time before he’s spilling into you. His cum seeps out around his cock, forming a white ring at the base.

Despite hardly being able to breathe, he pulls you into a kiss. His lips move against yours in gentle movements. It’s a stark contrast to the way he had been pounding into you only seconds ago. His length is beginning to soften inside you, which you’re slightly grateful for. You weren’t entirely sure you’d make it through another round of that.

“Are you okay?” he muttered, lips haphazardly meeting yours as his cock leaves you. “Shit, I didn’t mean to cum inside. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, “I’m on birth control. And I can get a morning-after pill.”

He nods in response and then his eyebrows scrunch up. You almost laugh, wanting nothing more than to smooth out the ridges between them. Your hands glide over the fabric of his shirt, tracing over his chest absentmindedly.

Pressing another kiss against his jaw, you ask him just to make sure, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, hands slipping beneath your shirt in order to rub your back. “It’s just—uh—I don’t know, it’s stupid—”

“I’m sure it’s not,” you interrupted, not wanting him to lose the confidence you had seen in him only minutes prior. “What is it? You can tell me anything.”

His eyes quickly darted to the side. Although they only did so for a split second, you still noticed. Following the direction of his glance, your gaze lands on your discarded bra.

Carmy lets out a quiet curse as he zips up his pants, realizing that he had been caught. He ignores your smirk while he pulls you off his desk and helps you do the same. Even though helping you put your clothes back on is something no one else had ever done for you after sex before, you knew it was at least partially meant to distract you from your new revelation.

You quickly decide, however, that you can’t help yourself. With a smile, you quietly say his name in an effort to bring his attention back to you.

“Hmm?” he muttered, trying to ignore the way your hands trace gently over his shoulders while he rebuttons your pants.

You slowly tilt his head, leaving him with no choice but to meet your eyes. You repeat his name in a sing-song voice, “Carmy!”

He grasped your hands in his and pulled them away from his face. He quickly distracts himself by playing with your fingers. After a moment, he sighed before looking at you with softened eyes.

“Can you teach me the bra thing now?”

Your face brightens with an amused laugh. Carmy instantly groans in embarrassment, throwing his head back and swatting gently at your backside with a muttered, “Stop that! I told you it was fucking dumb!”

“No, no,” you shook your head, still chuckling as he rolled his eyes. “Pass it here, Berzatto. Then you can keep it as a homework assignment.”

He muttered a curse under his breath, which only made you fall into another fit of laughter. He then picked your bra up from the floor and handed it over. With an arm on either side of your hips, he rests his palms on his desk that sat behind you. All his weight leans onto them and you can’t help but smile at how close he is while he stares intently at your hands, waiting for you to begin your lesson.

#2023 #the bear #the bear imagine #the bear imagines #the bear x reader #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto imagines #carmen berzatto x reader #hunger

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moralesmilesanhour · 6 months

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Miles (1610 or 42 it doesn't matter to me really) x alt black!reader because i've been drawing it and i love it so far and i would for you do your own version of it

I've seen this prompt circulating for a while now and was never sure how I'd approach it sooo let's go!!

she plays bass

The pads of your fingers were red and sore as you plucked the tough strings of the borrowed bass guitar. The music room was empty now, but you were allowed an extra hour of practice. An amp had even been left out for you.

Your hand struck the front of the instrument repeatedly as you approached the part of the bass line that you always seem to miss, when the metal clang of someone pushing the door open interrupted you.

The lanky boy's expression was already sorry before he even opened his mouth to speak. A green puffer jacket was thrown over his royal blue uniform blazer and engulfed him (yours was currently tied around your waist).

When he finally did speak, he laughed nervously.

"Forgot my headphones. I'll be outta your hair in a minute,"

He took a glance at your afro, picked out carefully until it was nearly twice the size of your own head like a thunder cloud. Two beaded braids framed either side of your face.

"...Which you seem to have a lot of."

You stared at him blankly.

With a tight smile, he grabbed his headphones off of a stray music stand and nearly sprinted out of the room, making sure to stumble over an untied shoelace on his way out.

The next time you saw his face was in chemistry class, as your assigned partner for a lab. As the frumpy professor explained the procedure, the boy got your attention with a whispered "Hey".

You stared at him warily through tightly-lined eyes swept over roughly with black pigment.

"Yes?"

His eyes darted back and forth before settling back onto you.

"It's uh, nice to see you again. You play guitar, right?"

"Uh-huh. Why?"

"No reason," he shrugged, scratching the back of his head. "I just thought it was...cool. What kinda music do you play?"

You gave an equally non-committal answer:

"Rock, funk, whatever has a cool bass line."

Out of curiosity, you stole a glance at his red sneakers propped up on the stool he sat on.

"Your shoes are untied."

He grinned, like he'd just made a clever joke. "It's a fashion choice. I never fall, anyway."

You snorted, "Sure."

"Aye, you wear ripped tights in the winter and turn your uniform inside-out. Lemme have this one!"

This managed to pull a giggle from you, which unfortunately caught the professor's attention.

"Quiet in the back, please!" he admonished sharply.

Neither of you were paying attention.

You, because you were too busy trying to school your expression back to normal, and him because he liked the look of your crooked smile.

He saw it again after following the sound of your playing back to the music room during lunch time.

"Lost your headphones again, or are you following me?"

"Care to have an audience?" he smiled, grabbing a seat for himself.

You pursed your lips in consideration before answering, "Alright. You better not invite your friends in here, though. Music room's mine between classes."

He raised his hands. "You got it, relax. Not like I got friends to bring."

"Is that why you came over here to bother me even though we don't even know each other's names?"

"No, I came to figure out what that fire ass song was," the boy leaned back in his seat, and smiled. "And I'm Miles, by the way."

"Y/N," you said with a sheepish grin. "And thanks. Composed it myself."

Miles' eyes widened. "Damn. Can I hear it again?"

"Sure."

The piece was unfinished, but it was sharp, dynamic. Plenty of bass-slapping to go around. You even managed to nail that one part that your fingers usually slipped on.

"I still need to work out the ending, but...yeah. That's pretty much it," you remarked casually. "Thoughts?"

Miles let out a low whistle. "You need to finish that ASAP. Are you in a band?"

You set the guitar down, and cracked your knuckles. "Nope. I just play by my lonesome, for fun."

"So no one's heard you until now?"

"Nope."

There was silence for a beat, then you asked, "Do you play anything?"

He shook his head.

"Not all of us have that gift, I'm afraid. Wish I did, though."

You looked around the room, scanning the instruments until you landed on an acoustic guitar.

An idea.

"Say, Miles," a smirk spread across your lips, "How would you like to change that?"

Miles immediately caught your drift and perked up.

"When do we start?"

#miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #atsv x reader #miles morales fic #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 1610 miles morales #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #moralesanhour #requests

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mint-yooxgi · 2 months

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What About Me? - San X Reader

Part of the CODN Spring Event - The Language of Flowers

Genre: Angst, Non-idol!AU, Best Friend!AU

Pairing: San X GN!Reader

Words: 1,704

Rating: E for Everyone :)

Warnings: Jealousy, alluded to the fact reader doesn't have a shirt on at times

A/n: So, I really wanted to play around with how different flowers have different meanings, and could be interpreted differently depending on the person. Hehe, As always feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

Summary: An innocent gesture, or something much deeper?

Yellow Rose - Jealousy

The sound of his knock echoes loudly in his ears as San stands on your front porch. A bundle of flowers rests in his hands, shifting himself from foot to foot as he waits for you to answer the door. You had asked him to come over, and as he recalls the reason why, he cannot help but let out a sigh.

“Oh, good!” You grin as soon as the front door swings open. “You’re here!”

Without wasting another moment, you tug him inside.

“Andy will be here soon, and I just can’t decide if I should wear the red shirt, or the yellow shirt!” Your voice is a little frantic as you waste no time marching right back into your room.

You didn’t even notice the flowers.

Slipping off his shoes, San follows you silently into your bedroom where he already sees you tossing clothing everywhere onto the floor. You’re rambling about this new guy you met - Andy - and San cannot help but to nod almost absentmindedly along to your words.

He’ll give it a week, and then you’re sure to come crying to him again about how yet another man has disappointed you. Another man that isn’t him.

If only you would give him a chance. Maybe then you could see just how much of a gentleman he could be to you. He already treats you like royalty, but you simply refuse to acknowledge that anything is there.

San knows he’s not the only one that sees it. All of your other friends have always commented on the chemistry the two of you share. From jokes about getting married, to teasing remarks about already being a seasoned couple, every comment seemingly goes right over your head. That, or you simply refuse to acknowledge how well you two fit together.

No. After so many years together, you refuse to acknowledge San as anything but your friend.

It drives him insane. Can’t you see how much he cares for you? Do you not realize the extents he would go to lay the whole world at your feet, if only you asked him to? Either way, San knows that he’s desperately in love with you, but you never seem to feel the same way.

Letting out another sigh, San sits forward. Resting his elbows on his knees, he fiddles with the large bouquet in his hands as your voice dies out in your throat.

Finally, it seems as if he’s gotten your attention.

“Who are those for?” You blink curiously, leaning into him so that he can practically smell your intoxicating perfume over the scent of the yellow roses clutched in his hands. “Did you finally manage to score a date yourself after so long?”

San’s gaze, which had been intently focuses on the blooming flowers, shifts upwards to met your own.

“No. If I were bringing flowers for a date, they wouldn’t be yellow.” He hums, sitting up fully in his spot.

“I was gonna say,” you chuckle, moving back over to your closet to pick out another shirt. This time, it’s purple. His favourite colour. “If you’re going to get roses for someone whom you’re romantically involved, yellow is probably the worst colour you could choose.”

“Oh?” San quirks a brow at you, watching you intently.

“Yeah.” You hum casually, turning back to face him once your slip on your shirt. “Don’t you know that yellow roses signify friendship?”

This time, both his brows raise at you in mild disbelief. “Do they?”

That’s certainly not what he was going for, but if that’s how you want to interpret them, who is he to stop you. It’s probably better if you think that, anyways. The last thing he needs is to get into another argument with you over his jealousy.

“So…” you trail off, a knowing grin tugging at the corner of your lips. “Who are they for?”

“Well, obviously I brought them for you.” He offers you the bouquet of roses, just as he’s always offered you his heart.

And like always, his meaning seems to go right over your head.

“Oh, Sannie!” A brilliant smile stretches out across your features as you reach out to take the flowers from his hands. “You shouldn’t have!”

Little do you see the way his whole body jolts, his breath hitching as your fingers brush lightly over his skin. The gently kiss of gratitude you place upon the skin of his cheek only serves to make the warmth in his chest blossom, spreading outwards pleasantly. All the way until it reaches the very tips of his fingers.

“What’s the occasion?” There’s a teasing lilt to your voice as you walk out of your room and towards the kitchen.

San, of course, is eager to follow you out, his eyes drooping slightly as he purses his lips. Though, the moment you turn around, a glass vase in hand, he’s back to looking every part of the chipper male you’ve come to know.

“Can I not bring flowers to the most beautiful person I know?” The corner of his lips quirk upwards, but the grin doesn’t fully reach his eyes.

“You can bring me flowers like this anytime, Sannie Boy,” You giggle, and the melodic sounds sets his heart racing inside of his chest.

Hearing such a joyful sound, and knowing that he’s the cause of it… well… to him, there is no greater feeling. Even if he’s stuck as your friend for all eternity, that is where he wants to stay. There is no place he would rather be than by your side, where he knows he’s always belonged. His only wish is that he could be more.

“I’m just glad you like them.” His reply is gentle, glancing up at you through his lashes.

San watches you as you place the bouquet in that glass vase, noting the way your fingertips gently trace over the side of the silken petals. If only he could being doing the same to you right now. He’d pull you close, his arms wrapped securely around you as he whispers that you’ll never have to worry about another thing ever again. He would tell you all about his promises to protect you, to be there for you, and how he only wants to make you smile every and any chance he gets.

You are the light of his life, and he only ever wants to be the light in yours.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” He blinks, so caught up in his own thoughts for the moment, that the final touch he had brought with him nearly slips his mind.

Reaching into his pocket, San pulls out a small red ribbon. Stepping forward, he ties a simple, neat bow around the stems of the roses, smiling at you all the while.

“San.” A soft smile pulls at your features, a hand coming up to rest over your heart as you breathlessly sigh his name. “Thank you.”

“I’m just glad you like them.” He repeats his words from moments earlier, inclining his head softly.

His eyes shine with nothing but adoration for you, longing to step forward and cup your cheek in his hand. Only, he cannot. So, he’ll happily settle for the small moments, such as this, that you give him now.

You meet his gaze, that tender expression still pulling at your features. An expression of which that causes San’s heart to absolutely flutter inside of his chest.

“Oh, I more than like them, Sannie.” You pause in your movements of brushing your thumb over a petal as you smile at him. “I love them.”

You tug a single rose free from its confines in the vase, careful not to ruin the beautiful display.

“What are you doing?” San quirks a brow, watching as you step closer to him with that single rose in your hand.

A blink, and you offer it to him with a large smile stretching across your features.

“Giving my best friend a flower.” You reply cheekily. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Though your meaning might be vastly different than his, his heart still warms at the action.

He wastes no time in reaching out to gently grasp the stem you offer him, bringing the fresh bloom to his nose and inhaling its scent.

The corner of his lips twitch upwards.

Just as he goes to respond, another knock sounds at your door. The way you visibly perk up, scurrying over to answer whoever it is, makes San’s heart squeeze painfully in his chest.

You had just been sharing such a tender moment, too…

With one final look at the golden bouquet, San turns away. Letting out a long breath through his nose, he walks towards your font door, leaning on the wall lightly with his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze scans over this new guy - Andy - and the first thing San notices is how empty his hands are.

Not even a single flower for you.

San shakes his head. His eyes narrow pointedly at the tall male across from him, hand tightening on the single stem held in his own hand.

“Sorry I’m late,” Andy says, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his head sheepishly. “You look beautiful.”

At the giggle you let out, San feels his heart squeeze painfully in his chest once more.

He purses his lips, listening to you chat excitedly with this new male, who, in San’s opinion, does not deserve even a second of your attention.

Andy doesn’t bring you flowers.

San does.

“Alright, I’ll be back later.” You say, reaching for your bag as you send one final look San’s way.

San can only offer you a tight smile in return, your focus almost immediately back on Andy as soon as those words are out of your mouth. He can only watch on, a crushing pain in his chest, as you exit through the front door, waving a final goodbye to him over your shoulder.

As San watches you walk away from him, yet again, in the arms of another male, that familiar jealous beast inside of him rears its ugly head.

The stem of the yellow rose finally snaps in his hand.

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lailaenterprise25 · 2 years

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New Men Sandals 2021 Summer Non-slip Flip Flops High Quality Outdoor Beach Slippers Casual Shoes Cheap Men's shoes

#New Men Sandal #Summer Non-slip Flip Flops High Quality Outdoor Beach Slipper #Casual Shoes Cheap Men's shoes

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 1 year

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SKZ DRABBLE-OT8

The one where some rules are meant to be followed and others are meant to be broken.

Or the twentieth installment of the skz!pack prequel series.

A/N: This one is rough, folks, buckle up. (It ends okay. I promise.)

Tags: SKZ, Stray Kids, Stay, OT8, SKZ Drabble, Skz!pack, skz!abo, poly!skz, omegaverse, pack!prequel, skz!pack prequel, prequel series, skz imagines, skz reactions, skz scenarios, ot8 x you, ot8 x reader, skz x you, skz x reader, bang chan, lee minho, seo changbin, hwang hyunjin, lee felix, han jisung, kim seungmin, yang jeongin, y/n, skz angst

Genre: Angst, Hurt, Comfort Ending

Warning: Mentions of Non-Con and Assault (no details)

Title: Love and Other Drugs

To be fair, you’d only gone to the frat party to piss him off.

Parties-particularly ones hosted by drunk, dumbass alphas who thought they were hot shit-were not typically your scene, but your blood was running hot and you were feeling a little impulsive, and without even thinking about it, you’d hopped the next bus to the frat house.

Which brings us to the present, where you’re sitting at the edges of said stupid party, sipping on a lackluster cheap beer, and trying to keep a headache at bay as the bass of some fast paced techno song blares from the speakers in time with the lights overhead.

God, it’s hot in here.

Your phone buzzes in your back pocket, and you shift your cup to your other hand so you can fish it out, glancing down at the brightly lit screen.

When you see the name appear on the caller ID, you immediately grit your teeth and hit ignore, stuffing the phone once more back into your pocket.

It’s the fifth time he’s called you since you stormed out of the dorm, and the fifth time you’ve ignored him completely.

Fuck him.

You take another swig of the bitter tasting beer and glance across the living room turned makeshift dance floor, taking in the crush of bodies as everyone sways to the music, a new song blasting from the heavy speakers in the corner.

You don’t recognize this one either, and your headache is starting to pound behind your left temple.

You feel eyes on you, and glance to the doorway to your left, leading to the hallway of the house, to see a group of frat boys leaning casually against the frame, staring you down. They’re openly ogling you, smirks on their faces, eyes trailing down your body, and you berate yourself for not grabbing a jacket to throw over your tight tank top before you left the dorm.

You turn your face away, ignoring them, and down the last little bit of your beer.

Probably time to leave anyway.

Tossing the cheap red cup into the nearby trash can, you skirt around a group of giggling, drunk sorority girls swaying to the music, and head for the kitchen and the escape of the back door.

You narrowly avoid running into an alpha leaving the kitchen, arms full of beer, and the liquid sloshes over the rims of the cups, getting your shoes wet, as he utters a hasty apology and continues on into the living room you just left.

You slip past the few couples in the kitchen, making out and grinding against the counters, and finally reach the back door.

You step out into the dark, cool air of the night and immediately breathe a sigh of relief.

It’d been too hot in there, and it’s refreshingly cool outside, the music nothing but a low thump of bass beneath your feet now, laughter and chatter drifting distantly through the open doorway.

It’s cold, making your skin prickle, but it’s only a short walk to the bus stop from the frat house. You’ll survive.

Your phone buzzes once more in your pocket, but you doggedly let it ring until the vibrating dies out, feeling something akin to hot satisfaction flush low in your stomach at the slight act of open defiance.

Good. You hope he’s worried.

There’s a shorter buzz, an alert to a text message, and with a sigh, you give in, digging your phone out and pulling up the notif preview on the lock screen.

(Y/N) answer the fucking phone.

No, you don’t think you will.

You stuff your phone back into your pocket, feeling smug, and take a step in the direction of the bus stop.

A sound in the open doorway behind you has you spinning around, your wolf suddenly on high alert.

“Well, well, well.”

The trio of frat boys from earlier stand in the doorway leading back into the house, lit from behind by the faint light coming down the hall from the kitchen. They’re smirking at you, just like before, but you don’t like the predatory glint in their gazes, eyes fixed on you from where they stand.

“Look what we have here, boys.” One of the boys steps off the porch and takes a step toward you, and you tense, ready to fight or flee, you’re not entirely sure.

He lets his leering gaze drop slowly down your body, lingering on your breasts, and you resist the urge to try to cover yourself with your hand.

He cocks his head, studying you with wicked amusement, and his lips quirk into the start of a wicked grin, blonde shaggy hair falling into his eyes, obscuring his expression.

“Why so tense, sweetheart? We’re not gonna hurt you.”

You swallow, your wolf growling, and stare him down as he takes another step in your direction.

“Really? Because your intentions seem less than pragmatic.”

“Ooh.” The guy mocks-the leader of their little troop if you had to guess- and looks over his shoulder to the other two guys still lingering in the doorway with a sly smirk. “Hear that fellas? She’s smart.”

He turns his attention back to you. Takes another step.

You take one backward, keeping the distance between the two of you.

“We’ve been admiring you all night, honey. Pretty little thing, aren’t you?” He tilts his head again, narrowing his eyes, watching you like a bird of prey cornering a rat. “Haven’t seen you at one of these things before.”

You hold your ground, staring him down.

“I don’t usually come to these things. And now I’m remembering why.”

The guy chuckles, tugging at his letterman jacket, puffing his chest, his eyes glinting.

“Well. Maybe we need to show you a good time then, huh?” Another step. “Show you how fun these little get-togethers can really be.”

The guys have left the doorway now, inching behind the taller man, eyes trained on you, and you risk a quick glance over your shoulder, seeing the illuminated bus stop through the trees to your left.

Run, your wolf whispers in a low warning, and you don’t even have to think twice.

You take off in a sprint, your sandals slapping the ground hard, and once again, you curse yourself for having left the dorm in such impractical clothing.

You can hear the boys whoop behind you, like this is some sort of sick game, but you don’t look back, pressing yourself faster, harder, your lungs burning and your heart pumping.

And then, cold fingers loop around your wrist and yank you backward, and the momentum is sending you flying, tumbling to the ground on your ass with a startled shriek.

The taller kid, the leader, is standing over you, chest heaving, eyes flashing.

You scoot away from him on your hands, ignoring the tenderness in your tailbone, and run right into another pair of legs.

You don’t even have to look up to know that it’s one of his goonies.

He crouches in front of you, eyes glinting wickedly, lips pulled into a sneer, and the stench of damp, decay-like a marsh in the middle of summer heat-is washing over you, strong enough to make you gag.

“Hold her.”

You try to get up and dart away again, but the goony behind you traps your arms at your side, his fingers digging into your skin, holding you frozen in place as you swear.

“You motherfuckers-” You growl out between clenched teeth, staring daggers into the leader, who simply chuckles and stands, taking a menacing step toward you.

“Ah, c’mon now.” He croons in a voice that makes you want to vomit, crouching down once more in front of you, reaching out to take your chin in his fingers. The smell of rotting reeds fills your nose. “Don’t be like that.”

You gather up a mouthful of saliva, and spit in his face.

His cocky smirk falters, and anger darkens his eyes, but only for a brief moment, before he laughs and reaches up to wipe your spittle from his cheek, clenching your jaw so tightly in his hold it hurts.

You bite back your whimper behind your teeth. You won’t give him the satisfaction.

He regards you for a moment, eyes dark, and then flicks his fingers at the guy still holding you still.

“Pin her down.”

You struggle as the other guy appears now, both goonies pinning your arms to the ground under their knees, and you kick and flail, but to no avail, finally resorting to screaming, hoping to god someone will hear you from the frat house and come to your aid.

“Shut up.” The tallest boy hisses, slapping his hand over your mouth so hard it hurts. He smiles then, like he hasn’t just assaulted you, and starts to peel off his letterman jacket, his knees on either side of your hips.

“Here’s the thing-” He remarks casually as he strips his jacket and throws it to the side, leaning back over you and pinching his fingers into your cheeks so hard it makes you whimper.

He grins, tapping a finger along the bridge of your nose, like you’re a naughty child being caught doing something they shouldn’t.

“-I like my women submissive, ya see? Pliant and quiet and docile. Of course-” He grunts, reaching down to undo the buckle of his pants, sliding his belt from the loops. When he looks up at you again, his eyes are golden, dangerous, scary. He grins wickedly. “-I allow them to speak eventually. If only to beg for my cock.”

You growl against the palm of his hand, thrashing beneath him, and he grins again, sliding his other hand around your throat, pinning you to the ground.

He leans in, breath ghosting your jaw.

The smell of bog is overwhelming.

“Now, little birdie-” You see the flash of his teeth in the dark, the sharp edges of his canines, and you tense every single muscle in your body beneath his weight as he slips his fingers between your lips.

“Beg.”

It all happens in an instant.

You bite down hard on his fingers, tasting copper, and he cries out, swearing vehemently as he struggles to tear his hand free from your teeth. You hold on doggedly, like a pitbull locking its jaw, and the salty, warm feeling of blood coats your tongue, sliding down your throat.

The goony on your left releases your arm to come to his leader’s aid, and you suddenly release the guy’s fingers from between your teeth as you take the open opportunity and death roll to the unguarded side, wrenching your arm free from the other guy as he lets out a cry of alarm.

You’re up and on your feet before the three of them have had the chance to recover.

The leader is still swearing up a storm, kneeling on the ground, clutching his bleeding hand to his chest, but he motions with a jut of his chin for his dogs to chase after you in the direction of the bus stop.

“What the fuck are you doing! Go get her!”

You hear the pounding of their feet behind you and veer around a tree, catching the first guy off guard as you round behind him and send him to the ground with a swift knee to the junk.

He collapses, groaning, holding himself, and you take the opportunity to kick him in the face, just for good measure, his nose crunching beneath your shoe.

“Asshole.” You mutter beneath your breath, before you turn back in the direction of the bus stop.

Arms go around your waist, and you’re lifted off the ground, kicking and struggling, as the third guy catches you just before the sidewalk.

He wraps an arm around your throat, and tries to land a clumsy punch on your face, but you turn your head at the last second and take it on the jaw.

It stings like a bitch, and you taste blood again for the second time tonight, but you don’t let it phase you.

He’s struggling, gasping for breath after your run, and you use it to your advantage, putting an elbow right into his solar plexus, hard enough to make him drop you and collapse to his knees, just like his two buddies, on the sidewalk at your feet.

“You bitch-” He gasps out, leaning over on his hands, coughing hard enough to go red in the face, spittle dribbling from between his lips.

“Fuck you.” You hiss out vehemently, spitting on the sidewalk in front of his face, your own saliva tinged pink from the blow he’d managed to land on you.

You turn without a backward glance and stalk toward the bus stop.

Fucking fraternity alphas with their fucking god complexes.

You’ve almost reached the bus stop, glancing at your phone to check the time-the next bus doesn’t come for fifteen minutes-and hoping the guys won’t have enough time to recover by then, when a car pulls up to the curb next to you and a door is whipping open fast enough to make you jump back.

Anger reignites in your stomach as Changbin leaps from the car, stalking toward you, his hands in fists at his sides.

All the previous adrenaline from the struggle with the frat guys feeds into the white hot anger suddenly coursing through your veins.

He comes to a stop in front of you, chest heaving, and stares you down.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

You shrug and glance to the side, away from him, ignoring his obvious fury, if only to spite him just a little bit longer.

“Out.”

“Out?” Changbin echoes dangerously, voice shaking, and he steps toward you, grabbing your upper arm with enough force to hurt, turning you back to face him.

You meet his gaze head on, holding your ground.

“Out.” He repeats again with a slight scoff and an angry shake of his head, as if he can’t believe you, fingers digging into your upper arm hard enough to make crescent moons in your skin. There is rage dancing in the gold of his eyes, but you can’t bring yourself to care. “That’s all you have to say for yourself? We’ve been trying to reach you all goddamn night, (Y/N), we were fucking worried.”

You have to stop yourself from laughing in his face.

Worried? Really?

His words from earlier, from the fight, echo in your head.

‘You’re a goddamn fool if you think that changes anything.’

You don’t say anything, turning your head stubbornly to the side.

You hear him suck in a sharp breath through his nose, and then there’s fingers on your chin, roughly turning your face to his once more, and when he pinches a little bit too hard, and you let out a hiss between your teeth, he looks at you like you’re the absolutely stupidest person on the planet.

He probably thinks you are.

“You’re fucking bleeding.” The fury swirls in his gaze, hot and angry, his fingers hovering over the cut by your lip, as if he’s not quite ready to touch you tenderly just yet. “What the hell happened?”

You yank from his grip and stalk toward the bus stop.

“I handled it.”

There are harsh footsteps behind you, and then Chanbin’s hand is around your arm once more, yanking you to a stop as you whirl to face him.

“Where the hell are you going?”

You stare him down with all the coldness you can muster.

“I’m getting on the bus and I’m going home.”

Changbin scoffs, laughing in disbelief, the sound sharp and bitter and anything but humorous.

“You’re not getting on the fucking bus, (Y/N).”

You glare at him, hoping you can make him combust with your mind alone.

“Like hell I’m not.”

You pull from his grasp once more and turn.

This time, you don’t make it more than a step before he’s pulling you back.

The air smells like smoke, your throat burning as you breathe-in and out, in and out, in and out.

You don’t turn around, and your voice is dangerously low when you say, “Let me go, Changbin.”

He ignores you, tugging you back with him in the direction of the car, and you plant your heels, desperately trying to release yourself from the death grip he has on your wrist.

You’ve got just as much anger fueling you, but Changbin’s a hell of a lot stronger than you.

He stops in front of the waiting car, shoving you toward the door.

“Get in the fucking car, (Y/N).”

You cross your arms over your chest and glare him down.

“No.”

“(Y/N).”

You glance up in slight surprise, and Minho is standing on the driver’s side of the car, leaning on the open door, watching the two of you with a dark expression of weary resignation on his face.

He holds your gaze, his voice quiet, but firm.

“Get in the car.”

You swallow, and you can feel Changbin practically vibrating with rage beside you as you stare at Minho, unsure of what to do.

But your feet are sore, and your jaw is starting to ache from the goony’s punch, and it’s fucking freezing outside, and so, reluctantly, you yank open the door and slide ino the back seat, slamming it shut behind you, just to make a point.

Minho gets back in behind the wheel, and Changbin drops into the passenger seat, slamming his own door to make his own point.

Minho lets out a sigh.

You fume quietly, slouched in the back seat, arms over your chest, as they pull the car away from the curb and merge onto the road off campus and back to the dorms, and you’re determined not to talk to either of them, until Minho glances in the rearview mirror and asks, “What happened to your lip?”

You stare out the dark window, watching the lights flash by.

“Just some stupid frat boys.” You finally say, not meeting his gaze in the mirror, trying to ignore the sting in your lip as you grimace.

Changbin whirls in his seat, pinning you down with a fiery glower.

“See, this is why you never should’ve went to that stupid party on your own in the first place-”

You jerk upright in the seat, red hot anger coursing through you.

“Do you even fucking hear yourself?” You accuse, narrowing your eyes into a glare as you stare him down, his nostrils flaring in anger. “I’m an alpha, Changbin. An alpha! Just like you, just like Minho, but just because I’m a girl-”

“And would they have attacked you if you hadn’t been a girl?!” Changbin roars, eyes flashing, and you swallow down the bile suddenly rising in your throat, watching the way his chest heaves in the dim light from the dashboard.

Changbin sucks in a ragged breath, and folds his large arms over his chest, but he doesn’t take it back.

You drop your gaze from his and stare out the window again.

‘Sometimes it’s not that fucking deep, okay, (Y/N)? Sometimes it just is what it is!’

Your hands are trembling, and you clutch the fabric of your pants between your fingers to stop them, forcing back the sudden urge to cry.

Your eyes burn, but you won’t let the tears out, not for him to see, not when it would just prove his point.

You feel Minho’s gaze on you through the mirror again, but you don’t look up, doggedly keeping your own eyes on the window, staying silent for the rest of the ride home.

*******

When Minho parks Chan’s car in the parking garage, you get out without a word and head for the elevator without a backward glance.

You’re sure they both have some choice words for you, but you’re exhausted and cold and upset and you really don’t want to fucking cry in front of either of them, so you step into the elevator and close the doors without waiting.

Neither of them tries to stop you.

You barely make it into your apartment, the tears blurring your vision as you fumble with the key in the lock, and slam the door before you’re collapsing onto the floor, arms going around your knees as your body heaves with silent sobs.

You stuff a fist into your mouth and bite down on your knuckles, hoping the pain will help ground you, help you get a grip, but it only serves as a reminder for the sting in your lip, the ache in your heart.

It magnifies everything.

So you let yourself cry, cry until your eyes are aching and your body is sore and your heart is breaking, and when the sobs have finally died down into shuddering breaths, you roll over onto your back and stare at the ceiling, not really looking at anything.

Fuck.

You reach blindly for your phone, seeing all the missed messages and calls from earlier, but there’s nothing new, and you don’t know why, but that fact sends a sharp stab of pain right to the middle of your chest, leaving you gasping for breath once more.

You hadn’t expected him to check on you, but still, expecting and witnessing are two very different things, and the latter hurts more than you thought it would.

You let your phone clatter to the floor beside you and fix your unseeing eyes on the ceiling once more.

Your body hurts, and your jaw is throbbing, and taking the place now of the hot anger that had fueled you all night is exhaustion-heavy, stifling, numbing exhaustion.

‘I can’t tell you what you want to hear.’

Changbin’s words echo in your head and you screw your eyes shut, trying to make them evaporate.

Tears start to creep from under your eyelids once again.

It had all gone to shit, simply because you couldn’t keep your goddamn mouth shut.

And you were scared. Because you didn’t know how to fix it.

‘I love you.’

It had slipped past your lips unbidden, your voice breathy, barely above a whisper, your hands palm down on his chest to keep yourself steady.

Maybe it wasn’t the right moment-you still straddling his hips, him still buried inside of you, both of you still coming down from the high-but it had escaped before you could stop it, turning into something real and visceral in the air between you, and there was nothing you could do to take it back. Not now.

You found you didn’t regret it.

Changbin stared at you with wide eyes, lips slightly parted, skin still flushed, dark hair swept back from his forehead, still bearing the waves from your fingers, and when he didn’t respond immediately, you felt your face flush, embarrassment curling in your gut.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

You slid off of him-your skin sticking to his, hot, sticky, bare-and avoided his gaze, darting to the bathroom as wetness started to slide down your leg and shame crept across your cheeks.

It was probably only a few minutes, but it felt like years before Changbin appeared in the doorway.

You didn’t look at him, in the reflection or in the present, and continued to wipe yourself off.

There was an awkward moment of silence, and then he stepped to the sink, clearing his throat as he began to wash his hands.

You tried not to look up at him.

“Listen-”

You laughed uncomfortably before he could say anything else, meeting his cautious gaze in the mirror as you tossed the used washcloth into the hamper, hurrying to fix this before it could get worse.

“It’s fine. Don’t say anything. Just forget it.”

Changbin stares at you, clears his throat once more, and nods, before glancing back down to the water running over his hands.

You’re standing up to find your clothes when he speaks again.

“I can’t tell you what you want to hear.”

You freeze, hand on the doorknob, and something inside of you collapses.

“What?” You question, keeping your voice from wavering, though your fingers are trembling on the knob.

He turns and stares at your back, you can feel the heat of his gaze, and then he says carefully, “You know what I mean.”

You breathe in and try not to let it back out.

He sighs, long and hard, and you hear the counter creak as he leans back against the sink.

“Why’d you say it?”

You’re caught off guard by the question, and you turn to face him now, brow furrowing.

“Why wouldn’t I say it?”

He stares you down, gaze hardening, and blows out his breath.

You feel irritation start to replace the embarrassment in your stomach.

“Why didn’t you say it?” You retort, crossing your arms over your chest.

He rubs at the bridge of his nose with his fingers, clearly annoyed now.

“Don’t make this emotional.”

“Excuse me?” You gasp, irritation giving way to the start of anger. “Don’t make this ‘emotional’?”

He sighs again, stepping past you to leave the bathroom.

“You know what I mean.”

You stalk after him.

“Pretty sure I don’t. Why don’t you explain it to me?”

He pulls on his shorts as you stand in the doorway, angrier than you’ve ever been.

He barely gives you a glance.

“Sometimes it’s not that fucking deep, okay, (Y/N)? Sometimes it just is what it is!”

You stare at him like he’s grown a second head.

“Me telling you I love you ‘isn’t that fucking deep’?”

He stares at the ceiling for a moment, seeming to gather his patience, but when he glances at you once more, his eyes are flashing, dangerous, warning.

“Don’t, (Y/N).”

“Don’t what?” You snap, pushing past him to look for your clothes. You find your pants and tug them back on violently. “Oh, right, don’t make this emotional because it’s not that fucking deep and I’m just a stupid girl who said a stupid thing and has stupid feelings that you don’t reciprocate.”

He sighs, long and frustrated.

“(Y/N)-” “Don’t.” You whirl on him so fast you nearly lose your balance. You take in a deep breath and stare him down. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child you’re disappointed with.”

His gaze grows hooded. “Fine.”

“Fine.” You snap back, pulling your hoodie over your head and searching for your shoes.

You feel him watching you, but you don’t care.

Tugging on your other sneaker, you snatch up your phone and stalk toward the door, throwing it open and heading down the hallway.

You want to get out of here as fast as humanly possible.

Unfortunately, Changbin has other ideas.

He stops you at the door, fingers looping around your wrist, and you glare at him over your shoulder, throwing daggers in his direction.

“Let me go.”

He raises his chin and stares you down. “No.”

You growl and try to shake his fingers off of you.

“Changbin, Let. Me. Go.”

He shakes his head, and you feel the anger rising in your gut.

“Not until we talk about this like adults.”

You scoff and sneer at him, clenching your free hand into a fist behind your back.

“There’s nothing to talk about. You made that incredibly clear.”

His eyes darken and a muscle ticks in his jaw.

“No, I said I couldn’t tell you what you wanted to hear-”

“Oh my god.” You huff out a humorless laugh, starting to feel slightly insane. “Can you please not repeat your obvious rejection over and over? Kinda sucks.”

His gaze hardens. “I’m not-”

“Oh, you’re not?” Your voice is verging on hysterical now, and you can feel yourself shaking, and you know he can too, his fingers still looped around your wrist. “Then what are you doing, Changbin? Hm? Please, enlighten me.”

He stares you down, and you stare right back.

The air is heavy with frost and soot.

Finally, he lets out an annoyed breath between his teeth and releases his hold on your wrist.

“Does it change things? Me saying it back?”

You stare at him in open disbelief, dumbfounded.

“Are you seriously asking me that right now?”

“Of course I am!” He exclaims in angry exasperation, clenching his teeth and hardening his jaw. He growls in frustration and clenches his hands at his sides. “Because I don’t fucking get it, (Y/N), if it does, because why?”

You cannot fucking believe him.

“It changes things because right now, I don’t know where I stand.” You reply, keeping your voice level, though it’s strained, barely shaking.

He stares at you like you’re stupid.

“Where you stand?” He repeats, and you resist the urge to hit him square in the face. “You stand the same place you always have! Why does that have to change?”

You groan long and low in your throat in frustration, and turn toward the door.

“Whatever. This is clearly not working. I’m leaving. Just forget about it.”

Changbin grabs your wrist again and you growl as you whirl back to face him.

“Let go of my fucking wrist, Changbin.”

His eyes are fiery, his lips pressed thin.

When he stares you down, not saying anything, you feel the anger bubble over into something deadly, pooling in your stomach.

“Do you wanna know why it matters?” You hiss out between clenched teeth, clenching your hand into a fist in his hold. You step toward him, but he holds his ground as you go toe to toe.

You pin him with your glare, dropping your voice, low and dangerous.

“It matters, because right now, what we’re doing here?” You motion between the two of you, your chest brushing his as you both breathe-in and out, in and out, in and out. “Could mean absolutely nothing more than an easy lay-not a single fucking thing.”

His lips pull up into the start of a smirk, and it’s not amused.

“And you think if someone tells you what you want to hear, that that changes things?” He leans in close, his breath brushing your lips, and you almost choke on the wave of smoke. “You’re a goddamn fool if you think that changes anything.”

His words fill the angry, cold air between the two of you, growing bigger and bigger by the second, looming large and formidable and unforgivable

The only sound is your heart shattering into a million pieces on the floor at his feet.

You stare at him for another tense moment, and then you spin on your heel, and leave the apartment without a word.

******

When you wake up, you’re still curled on the living room floor, the light streaming in through the blinds hurting your eyes as you slowly unfurl.

Your back hurts, your muscles are stiff, and your lip is throbbing like a fucker.

You risk a tentative brush of your tongue across the aching skin, and hiss through your teeth at the sting, your bottom lip clearly swollen and bruised, still tasting faintly of coppery blood.

You force yourself up from the floor, groaning as your joints slot back into place, and stumble toward the bathroom.

You’re cold and achy and heartbroken and you need to shower.

You can still faintly smell the scent of marsh on your skin from the frat guy, and it makes you want to violently gag into the toilet.

Running the water as hot as it goes, you step into the shower and let the stream scald your skin, washing away any residue left from the night before, including the musky scent still stubbornly clinging to your skin.

The sound of your front door opening has your wolf perking its ears, but you’re not worried, because the only people who know your code are members of the pack, unless, of course, it’s him.

Your stomach tightens at the thought, but when the light footsteps entering the bathroom aren’t immediately accompanied by a wave of smoke, you relax, turning your head into the water and closing your eyes, blindly reaching for your shampoo.

You wait for the mystery person to speak, and after a moment, Hyunjin’s voice floats above the sound of the running water.

You smell the tang of lemon cut through the floral of your shampoo.

“He’s kind of stupid, you know.”

You know who he’s talking about, but you play dumb anyway, staying silent, waiting to see if he goes on.

A long sigh, and then, “But even he’s not stupid enough to ever hurt you on purpose.”

Your fingers freeze in the suds of your hair, and you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, resuming your movements after a brief moment of stillness.

“He told me what happened.”

You huff out a humorless, sharp laugh, as you lean your head back to rinse the soap from your hair, scrunching your eyes shut tightly, telling yourself it’s to keep the shampoo out, but in reality, it’s to hold back the new burn of tears threatening.

“Shocking.”

He’d probably told the whole pack by now, so they could all laugh at your stupidity together.

You see Hyunjin hoist himself up onto the counter by the sink through the foggy glass of the shower door, and you turn to shut off the shower, immediately shivering as the hot water stops rolling over your skin.

Hyunjin waits in silence as you slide open the door and step out, wrapping a towel around yourself, your skin prickling in violent goosebumps.

You don’t look at him as you towel off your dripping hair, but you feel his gaze on you regardless.

Finally, he says gently, “He has a rule you know.”

You flick your gaze up to him, unsure of what he’s talking about, and not certain if you actually care.

He sighs and pushes long back hair from his face with an agitated movement of his hand.

“To not say it back.”

It takes a moment for your brain to catch up with the omega’s words, and he’s still staring at you, waiting for you to get it, and suddenly, you realize what he’s telling you.

You glance at him sharply, voice sharper than you intended. “Why?”

Hyunjin smiles sadly, kicking his legs against the cabinets as you fling the towel you used on your hair into the laundry hamper.

“Because what happens when you tell people that kind of personal shit?”

You huff a breath, halfway to a scoff, and roll your eyes, anger bubbling just below the surface of your skin once more.

You slam a drawer open to find your face cream, and stare doggedly ahead in the mirror.

“Oh, I dunno, maybe, relationships advance? Grow deeper? Novel idea, but maybe being open and vulnerable is a good thing when you care about someone?”

Your words are staccato, acidic on your tongue, but Hyunjin doesn’t seem phased, staring at you until you return his serious gaze.

“Let me rephrase the question.” He arches a dark brow, lips pulled into a thin line. “What happens when an alpha specifically shares something like that?”

You stare at him, the anger making it hard to focus on what he’s asking you.

Hyunjin heaves a sigh-he seems to be doing a lot of that-and points at you sternly. “You’re doing it right now, actually. Just in the opposite sense.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

You don’t mean to get sharp with him, but your head hurts and your jaw is starting to sting again, and you really wanna do nothing but lay down in your bed and never get back up.

“It smells like a goddamn floral shop in here.” Hyunjin bites right back, his eyes flashing, and then he takes in a deep breath through his nose and closes his eyes for a brief moment, and when he reopens them, his composure has returned. “Don’t you get it?”

You stare at him, feeling stupid and altogether too worked up for this conversation.

“Pheromones.” He spells it out slowly, holding your gaze, his pupils large and dark. “You put out pheromones depending on the emotion you’re feeling strongly in the moment-good or bad-and those emotion driven pheromones have an incredible effect on the people close to you-again, good or bad.”

It’s starting to click into place in your brain, and your anger is swirling away down the drain with every completed piece of the puzzle.

Hyunjin must notice the recognition in your eyes, because he hops down from the counter and comes to stand in front of you, reaching up to wipe a stray droplet of water from the arch of your cheekbone.

His gaze softens, and his lips turn up into the start of a sardonic smile.

“He has a rule-to never say it back-because he never, ever wants anyone to feel like they owe him anything, just because of his secondary gender.”

His tiny smile turns sad, and you feel your stomach hollow out at his next words.

“Changbin is so insanely terrified of being a stereotypical asshole alpha-someone who just takes whatever they want and damn the consequences-that he never even lets himself consider having what he deserves.”

It all makes sense.

You feel like a grade A asshole.

Hyunjin lifts your chin with his finger and gives you a soft smile, one that reaches his eyes.

“Maybe he didn’t say it back, but he’s been showing you, all along, every step of the way.”

You feel all the breath leave your lungs in one fell swoop.

He’s right.

Changbin had never once made you feel bad about helping Hyunjin through his heat without him, even though you knew, without a measure of a doubt, that he cared for the omega.

Changbin had worried about you every time there was a thunderstorm, had let you sleep in his bed, held you until you stopped shaking.

Changbin always arrived first to the campus cafe, and when you’d inevitably show up several moments later, he’d always already ordered you an iced americano, sliding it across the table silently and waving away your thanks.

Changbin had called you five times last night, trying to make sure you were safe, that you weren’t hurt, that you weren’t being stupid.

Changbin, Changbin, Changbin.

It didn’t matter that he didn’t say it. He loved you.

A tear drops down your cheek unbidden, and Hyunjin swipes it away without a word.

You sniff and rub at your nose.

“God, I’m so stupid.”

Hyunjin smiles ruefully and knocks you playfully under the chin.

“Yeah. But so is he. So I guess you’re even.”

******

You let yourself into Changbin’s apartment via keycode and make your way silently down the hall to the open door of his bedroom.

You glance inside, and he’s lying on his back on his bed, reading one of Jisung’s mangas, held above his head as he idly flips the pages.

He glances up as you enter the room, but keeps silent, as you sit down beside the bed and tuck your knees into your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself.

You both sit in the silence for several long moments, and then you glance up at him, instantly noting the dark bruising painted across the knuckles of his right hand, the torn, angry looking flesh mottling various shades of black and blue and dark purple.

“What happened to your hand?” You ask in a quiet voice, biting your lip, and Changbin barely flicks his gaze up from his reading to glance first to you, and then to the hand in question.

He shrugs half heartedly and turns back to the comic.

“Just some stupid frat boys.”

You bite back the hint of a smile, and stare at the carpet beneath your feet, trying to ignore the warmth starting to curl deep within your belly.

There are another few moments of quiet, and then Changbin surprises you by letting the manga drop to the bed, the noise startling you, as you glance at him once more from the corner of your eye and see his chest heave in and out with a long sigh.

He reaches up to rake a hand through his hair. “Look, I know I should apologize-”

You cut him off, turning to face the bed as you wave a hand in his direction.

“You don’t need to apologize.”

He sighs again, and when he speaks once more, his voice is curt, clipped, as if he’s irritated.

“Yes, I fucking do.”

You push up to your knees and lean over the side of the bed on your elbows, staring down at him, his eyes widening slightly as you both come face to face.

You stare him down seriously, holding his gaze, not letting him look away.

“No, I’m serious.” You breathe out, long and steady, and offer him the hint of a small smile. “You don’t need to apologize.”

He stares at you, brow furrowed in confusion, eyes dark and guarded.

You huff a laugh and reach out to smooth the crease between his eyes. “Don’t look so worried. I’m not gonna hold this against you forever.”

His expression grows slightly pained at your words, and his voice is a bitter murmur when he says, “You should.”

You shake your head. “You were right though. You don’t have to say it. It doesn’t change anything.”

He himself up onto one elbow, and you hurry before you can lose your nerve.

“Look.” You wring your hands together, staring down at the comforter beneath them, avoiding his gaze now. “I get it. Why you have a rule about not saying it back.”

Changbin shifts and then growls out, “Dammit, Hyunjin. I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

You laugh and look up once more, and his lips are curved into the hint of a tiny smile now.

“No, it makes sense. And while I totally get it, I do, I also don’t think you should worry about forcing me into doing anything or saying something against my will just because of some stupid pheromones.”

You take in a deep quivering breath, and look him straight in the eye.

“Because I’m already pretty hopelessly fucking in love with you as it is, and I don’t think any amount of biology is gonna change that.”

You swallow hard as he continues to stare at you in silence, and then he laughs, he laughs.

“So you meant it then.”

You shoot him a half hearted glare and cross your arms over your chest.

“Of course I fucking meant it! Why do you think I got so pissed off when I thought you were rejecting me?”

Changbin smiles ruefully. “But I told you I wasn’t.”

“Yeah, okay!” You throw your hands up in exasperation. “I get that now, but I was a little too devastated to consider it in the moment!”

Changbin chuckles again and tugs you to him. You let out a little yelp of surprise as you topple onto the bed, nose going into the side of his throat.

He’s warm, and he smells like smoke, and the embers of a waning campfire.

Comforting.

He puts his hands on either side of your face and tugs you back just enough to meet your gaze as he arches a dark brow and looks down at you with open, affectionate amusement.

When he speaks, his voice is sincere, warm, and it sends your bones to jelly and your heart thudding against the walls of your chest.

“I’m sorry that I made you think any of that. I’m sorry that I hurt you by being a stupid asshole. I’m sorry that you ever thought I didn’t feel the same exact way about you that you feel about me.” His lips curve up into the start of a smirk. “And I’m also sorry that you didn’t get to watch me kick those frat boys’ asses to hell and back, but I’m not sorry I did it.”

You laugh, slightly wobbly and watery, and swipe at your eyes with the back of your hand.

“I’m also sorry I didn’t get to see that.”

Changbin chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest, and he leans over to brush his nose against your forehead. You close your eyes, breathing him in for a moment, fingers clenching the material of the front of his hoodie.

“Also. I had a rule. But I think it’s about time I start living a little less by the rulebook, and a little bit more by the trust you all seem to have in me, however misguided.”

You open your eyes, and are met by the swirling gold of his own.

His lips curve into the start of a smile, and his voice is barely above a breath, warm as it washes across your skin.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it back.” His brow arches up in question, lips parting. “But I can say it now, if you want?”

You shake your head slightly with a disbelieving little laugh.

“It’s not gonna change anything important.”

Changbin slips a finger beneath your chin and raises your gaze to his own. You can feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears as he lets his thumb gently trace over the divot in your lips, the tender, healing bruise along your jaw.

“I know.” His eyes flick back up to your own. “But what if I want to?”

You let out the breath you’ve been holding.

“Okay.”

He leans into your space, his lips brushing your cheekbone when he speaks, and the the low, warm tone of his voice has your body instantly zipping with giddy electricity.

“I love you too.”

You glance at him sidelong, heart thudding against your ribs, and catching your breath, ask teasingly, “My alpha pheromones didn’t make you say that, did they?”

He growls playfully and nuzzles his nose into your throat, tickling you, holding you tight as you giggle and try to weakly wriggle away.

“No fucking pheromones were used.” He says softly, voice filled with relief, and you feel him grin against your skin.

“No pheromones were used.” You repeat back quietly, cheeks sore from smiling, almost drunk with happiness, before you lean over to fit your lips to his and kiss him like you should’ve the first time.

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

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oglobalmart · 1 year

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#Leather Shoes for Men #Business Casual Soft-Soled #Non-Slip #Breathable Loafers

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weministertomonsters · 5 months

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Naga Father (Araza) x gender-neutral reader

Anyone remember that short monster imagine I did of a naga and a babysitter? Well, I expanded it a bit. :)

•─────✧─────•

You're looking forward to a free weekend, but when you receive a call on Friday night for a babysitting job, you decide to take it. As much as you'd like to take some time for yourself, you do need the money.

"You come highly recommended," the gruff voice on the other end says.

"Well, I'm good with kids," you reply, idly curling a strand of your kinky hair through your fingers. "And I often clean up the house a little if I have the spare time. It really helps out the parents who work late or have extra shifts."

"I will see for myself. Come by at eight tomorrow morning," the man- or at least you think it is- says, and hangs up.

Oof. So it's one of those parents then. You can almost predict how the day is going to go. You're exhausted, so after you feed your cat, you have a quick dinner and all but collapse onto your bed. You sleep so deeply that your alarm shrieking in your ear barely pierces through your dreams.

Groaning, you peel your face off your pillow and try to remember what you set it for. Great. You hop out of bed and shamble into the kitchen to fix some coffee. After that and a warm shower, you feel much better. You drag a brush through your hair and put on some casual, comfortable clothes, perfect for chasing after kids all day.

It's not often you babysit a single child, so this is going to be interesting.

You get there on time, but spend almost a full minute lingering in your car, wondering if you maybe got the wrong address. The house is huge, with white brick walls, big windows, and a sprawling yard that looks a little ramble-y and overgrown. You don't spot a single wayward toy.

Well, there's only one way to know. You get out and trudge up the crunchy gravel path. The doorbell echoes through the house but you don't hear any footsteps. The door swings open suddenly and… Well, you're not looking at a person, that's for sure.

A well-sculpted human torso tapers off into a snake tail that coils so far back that you can't see the end of it. His eyes are a bright gold with slitted pupils.

You're pretty certain this is the guy you spoke to on the phone yesterday. It's not hard for you to guess that he answered the door like this as a shock factor. To see how you'd react to a non-human, to judge if you're one of those paranoid types to start screaming about demons and evil.

You definitely aren't. The reason you're staring isn't because you've never seen one of his kind before (though you haven't because the town you live in is really small), but because he answered the door without a stitch of clothing on. You'd think he'd at least wear a shirt, but no.

He looks fresh out of the shower too, with the ends of his dark hair dripping water onto his tan skin. He has claws and scales on his forearms. Good lord, he's built nicely, with a bit of lean muscle.

"Have I surprised you?" He drawls, and you note the muted lisp of the 's', which you caught on the phone as well.

"Yes. Um, I mean no." You chuckle nervously, tucking your hands into your pockets. "It's cool."

Your eyes are still lingering shamelessly on his chest. It's his fault for answering the door like that, you reason. He's practically inviting you to look.

"Well, come in," he says, slipping to the side and opening the door a little wider. "Remove your shoes."

"Thanks." You step in and slip your shoes off, marveling at how clean the floors are.

For a moment, you just observe each other. He takes you in, an eyebrow hitching slightly. You look… Like a rainbow. Your afro is dyed in chunks so it looks like a fluffy snowcone. You're wearing a bright t-shirt with overalls that have a cute white rabbit embroidered on the front. Your socks are covered in funky polka dots, but they're very comfy. You've learned from experience not to put on jewelry for babysitting jobs, but you never go anywhere without the dainty three-leafed clover necklace your mother gave you years ago.

"Have I surprised you?" You echo his earlier words.

"You look very… Human," he responds with a slight curl of his lip.

"Let me guess, you don't like my kind?"

"Not really, no. However I cannot shift my schedule further, so I require someone to watch my son. And my community has an annoying lack of babysitters. Thus, you."

"Me," you echo with a slight smile.

He turns and slithers into the kitchen. You can hear a muted hiss as his scales scrape over the floorboards.

"Um, am I early?" You ask, even though you know you're right on time.

"I leave in half an hour," he says as he pours a cup of tea. "I want to observe how you interact with my son."

"I understand. I promise to take good care of him, Mr…? I didn't catch your name yesterday."

"Because I never gave it to you. Mr. Araza."

"Tobi," you reply.

"And how do I address you?" He asks, turning to sweep his gaze over your frame.

You know that you're perfectly straddling the fence between feminine and masculine, and you like to keep it that way. With some people, it's fun to see them fume and struggle to fit you into a box or label. With Mr. Araza, you can tell he's just curious.

"Just Tobi is fine," you reply with a small smile.

He nods. His tongue flickers out of his mouth and that startles you. It's just so pink and thin, with a delicate pronged tip. You clear your throat and try to look casual. His eyes narrow slightly and you pray he can't use his tongue to figure out what exactly you're feeling or the way your hormones just spiked, or you're fucked.

"I take suppressants," he says like he just read your thoughts, moving close enough that you catch a hint of the fragrant tea in his hand.

"It is tiring to live in a world saturated by human hormones. Your kind is terrible at hiding their true reactions. As such, I suppress my abilities to give me some peace of mind. You can keep your twisted desires to yourself."

Oh wow, okay.

You don't try to defend yourself but you do take a small step back. You don't like feeling cornered. His eyes take in every small detail and you have a feeling that even on suppressants, he can read you just fine.

"Papa?" A small voice speaks up, and both of you look towards the kitchen doorway.

Mr. Araza's son is so dang cute, is your first thought.

You've never seen a young naga before and he's only five. His tail is small, almost stubby. He has no claws or scales other than the ones on his tail. On the whole, he looks far less intimidating. He's also wearing a shirt.

His pupils are wide and curious as his eyes fall on you, but they shrink as soon as he looks at his father.

"I finished," he says softly, scooting closer and holding up a small handwriting booklet.

As soon as Mr. Araza takes the booklet, he shoots out of the room, terribly clumsy. You've seen videos of actual snakes on tiles, their bodies twisting but going nowhere. He sort of looks like that. It could be cute, but more than anything, it's uncomfortable to watch him struggle knowing that he lives in a house that's almost exclusively covered in sleek wood floors.

"Are you punishing him?" You ask softly. "I mean, it's none of my business, but-"

"Yes," Mr. Araza says, staring down at the page with a frown.

The letters and numbers his son has traced are wobbly.

"That's really not bad," you say quietly. "For a five-year-old."

"He ate a mouse."

"What?" You sputter.

"That's why I'm punishing him. He caught and ate a mouse."

You try very hard to school your expression and you don't know what to say. You already guessed that nagas are carnivores, so you're not sure whether eating mice is a bad thing and why.

Mr. Araza sighs, looking rather aggravated as he closes the booklet and tosses it on the counter.

"Unregulated food sources are strictly forbidden. I cannot know what that mouse has eaten and if it is clean or not. He knows this, but ate it anyway."

"Oh. I will, um, make sure he doesn't eat any mice or err, spiders or anything else." You say.

That seems to please him. "I have a chart on the fridge with his nutritional needs and portion sizes. The meat is in the fridge. Let it thaw to room temperature but do not cook it. Not even a little. Understood?"

"Crystal clear," you say.

He huffs. "I will be in my room getting ready. Do acquaint yourself with him. He is in his room, first door on the left."

You do as he has asked, climbing the stairs up to the kid's room. The fact that nagas move on their tails means that he's a bit shorter than human kids his age. With that in mind, the doorknob is way too high up.

You hear the hiss of scales coming up the stairs. The more you think about it, nothing in the house is accommodating to nagas. You're pretty sure if you checked the bathroom you'd find a human toilet.

"Um, Mr. Araza?" You turn to him.

He pauses in the doorway of his bedroom and glances over his shoulder. "Yes?"

"Why are you living in this house? It's a nice place, but it's built for humans," you say. "I understand if your reasons are private, but what about your son? Don't you want things to be easy for him?"

Mr. Araza blinks, double eyelids closing over his eyes for a moment. "Most of the world is built to accommodate your kind alone. I will not have my son fumbling in unfamiliar surroundings. He will learn how to manage."

"Isn't it a little soon?" You ask, but all you get as a response is the thud of his door closing.

You blow out a breath and knock on his son's bedroom door.

"Can I come in?"

"Okay," a small, shy voice replies.

You push open the door and step into a cluttered, but clean room. Colorful drawings are stuck all over the walls and most of them feature two-legged blobs. Humans. You idly wonder what his father thinks of that.

"Hi," you say to the boy. "Sam, right?"

His bed is piled high with stuffed animals and blankets, stacked up around him like a little nest. He nods, curly hair falling into his eyes.

"Are you going to watch me while Papa works?" He says, his lisp far more pronounced than his father's.

"Yes. We can do anything you want," you tell him.

"Can we make pictures?" He says, eyes going round.

"Sure!" You say.

He has an entire setup, a scratched and worn table, and a giant box filled with coloring pencils, crayons, small jars of poster paint, and oil pastels. It's pretty messy, and you make a mental note to sort everything out nicely later.

He takes a piece of paper and gives you one as well, and throws himself enthusiastically into it. His tongue flickers out of his mouth subconsciously, and you try not to jump each time.

"What are you drawing?" You ask him after a while

"A tree!" He says, and points at a darker, tangled shape in the branches. "And that's Papa when he rescued a cat."

"That's nice of him to do," you say.

He nods, smearing green oil pastels to make grass and leaves. "The lady wasn't nice. Papa gave her the cat but she called him a bad word and walked away. She didn't say thank you!"

"Some people are meanies," you say. "But I'm sure the cat was grateful."

You see movement in the corner of your eye. Mr. Araza is standing in the doorframe, putting on a tie. He's wearing a crisp suit with gold cuff links that match his eyes.

"I'm going to send your Papa off, okay? Keep coloring," you say, standing up.

"His mother used to color with him like that," Mr. Araza says as you near him.

"Really. I think we'll get along okay," you murmur as you follow him down the stairs. "Sam is sweet."

"You wouldn't like to see him when he's hungry," Mr. Araza huffs with a flicker of amusement. "I will call at midday."

With that, he leaves. You turn to head back up the stairs. Sam is done with his picture.

"Do you want to do another one?" You ask, and he nods eagerly.

This is going to be a piece of cake.

Part 2

#exophilia #monster x reader #monster x human #naga

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itsclydebitches · 1 year

Text

This interaction popped into my head fully-formed today and I knew no peace until I wrote it out. They're friends, your honor 😭

“Getting long, huh?”

Trent froze in the act of putting up his hair, a few tendrils slipping to fall in his eyes, obscuring Roy. It was still instinctual to flinch back, his father’s acidic voice ringing in his ears as he said again and again and again how it was past time for Trent to see a barber, each reminder casual like his judgment was a given. Well, it always had been. Trent never found the courage to admit that he was a regular of salons and that each product they sold there cost more than his father’s first rent. His lip had curled, barb-like, when Trent had last visited, the shoulder-length cut exacerbating the news of his firing. He could only imagine what his father would say if he saw it now, curls licking at the small of his back.

Trent’s mind processed all of this in a matter of seconds, journalistic instincts finally overriding the fear to focus on reality: the neutral tone of Roy’s voice. His appreciative glance. Their normal coffee hand-off that Trent had to resurrect numb fingers to complete.

Roy was not his father. No one at Richmond was.

“Yeah,” Trent agreed, voice scratchy. He took a hasty gulp of his drink. “It’s never been this long before.”

Non-committal grunt from the other side of the office. That was the Roy equivalent of dragging his chair over, propping his chin on his hands, and begging for all the juicy details.

“I’m... thinking of cutting it again?”

That got a reaction. Roy’s head whipped around in a gesture that screamed ‘ABSOLUTELY NOT’ but his response, when it came, was just another measured hum. No pressure; plenty of space to accept a statement, or engage with the question. Trent had to bite his lip to keep from laughing outright. But god, Roy was trying so hard and that felt so good.

Though he was likewise trying to be kinder to his past self, Trent hated that he’d caved and cut his hair a day before approaching Richmond, that snide voice in his head insisting that he’d be lucky to make it into the building -- they certainly wouldn’t hire a slovenly poof, as his father might say. Ah, but then that voice did have a hint of his Scouse accent, didn't it? Really, Trent hadn’t given it much thought until Ted mentioned having a bag full of hair-ties and suddenly he was desperate for the length back, if only to make use of something that Ted had held.

Embolden by caffeine and the mellow mood, Trent decided to gift Roy some truth.

“I grew it this long for him,” he said, head nodding towards the closed door. Behind the glass Ted was pecking at his keyboard in a manner that was not adorable, not at all, because describing a middle-aged American as ‘adorable’ was too much, even for Trent’s purple prose. So Ted was merely whatever word instilled the desire to kick one’s feet and doodle connecting hearts around the edges of a journal.

Trent’s crush was no secret -- to no one but Ted, anyway -- but speaking about it now, openly, mere feet from the man himself... that was thrilling. Ridiculously so for a Tuesday morning spent with Roy Kent.

“I missed a couple of appointments back when the book was going through proofs and then we had that week-long storm, remember?" Trent mimed the sheets of rain that had flooded their streets and turned flower beds into dirt soup. "I came in drenched one day, just sopping, with my shoes squelching and my blazer ruined. I’m pretty sure I scarred one of the security guards when I threatened to get him fired if he didn’t find me a towel in the next thirty seconds. I was a bitch, no two ways about it. Meanwhile, Ted took one look at me, gasped, and said I was a mermaid.” Trent grinned at the memory, fingers fluttering. “Then he lent me a shirt and I spent the rest of the day wondering if the purple made me look like Ariel.”

“...Did you keep the shirt?”

“Of course not. It was lost--” air quotes, “--at the cleaners.”

Roy snorted in amusement. Trent was surprised though when his expression grew tight and when he spoke, so quiet Trent almost didn’t catch it, there was an undertone of hesitance; like Roy feared overstepping some line.

“Grew it long for him,” he said, “but are you keeping it long for him? I mean, what the fuck do you want?”

Trent blinked, considering. Oh. Well. If you’d asked him point blank he would have said categorically that he wasn’t someone who changed himself to appease others... but then, forty years pretending to be straight didn’t really support that, now did it? The truth was that he wanted strangers to stop staring on the street whenever he went out with his curls and a skirt. He wanted to teach Amelia how to braid his hair, just like he braided hers each weekend. He wanted a fucking buzz-cut to combat the summer heat. He wanted to make the flower crowns he’d never even dared to imagine in his youth. He wanted to spend less of his salary on products -- or at least feel less guilty about the indulgence. He wanted to borrow Keeley’s scrunchies. He wanted to donate it all to Locks of Love. He wanted hair long enough to impulsively dye it red, just to see Ted laugh.

Trent wanted to go back in time and find the courage to change his own body without riding the coattails of a crush’s compliment. He wanted to accept that there was no version of himself he liked without the influence of Ted Lasso and kiss him, kiss him, kiss him in gratitude.

“I don’t know,” Trent admitted, “but for now I want this.”

Roy gave a short nod, his shoulders relaxing. He glanced towards the window where Ted still sat, huffing in a manner that a brave man might have called fond, and returned to his work.

Once they’d settled into their daily silence, Trent couldn’t resist:

“I do want it long enough for him to pull.”

“Fuck off!”

Across the way Ted jumped, wondering what had Trent laughing like that and Roy slamming through the door, yelling something about "TM-fucking-I."

Watching Trent tip his head back so his hair flew, danced, caressed his cheek as it passed, Ted decided he’d just have to ask him about it over dinner.

#Ted Lasso #Trent Crimm #Roy Kent #Tedependent #Ted Lasso fic #might put up on AO3 later #how many fics will I write about Trent's hair?#not enough #that hair deserves it

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hey-kae · 2 years

Text

A Gift from the Ferrari Gods

Part 1: 20 Minutes to Spare

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Request: Hello! Love your writing!!! I don’t know if you take requests, but I was wondering if you would maybe write a Sequel to 20 mins to spare where Charles brought home one of the race suits? And then sexy shenanigans follow 😈😈 If not, totally understand, and I hope you keep putting up content!!

Warnings: Thigh riding, fingering, oral sex (female and male receiving), unprotected sex, overstimulation (kinda), cockwarming(kinda), slight praise kink i think, begging and orgasm control. (Buckle up ig)

Sidenote: Did i google the french translation for “i’m gonna cum” and never used it because it made me uncomfortable? Yeah i did… Also, this is long and it’s pure filth. Read at your own risk!

It was already past ten in the morning when your deep slumber was knocked out of its place by that weird phase of half-sleeping where you can hear everything around you. An obnoxious bird outside was loudly contributing to the process of waking you up and any chance of falling back asleep was eliminated when you sensed a figure standing by the side of the bed, shadowing you as if it was waiting for you to open your eyes.

It would’ve been creepy if you didn’t know who it was. Charles.

“What do you want?” You groaned in annoyance, turning onto your back and covering your face with a pillow so you wouldn’t have to face the sunlight just yet.

You waited a few seconds, awaiting a reply but you received none, what weirded you out.

Throwing the pillow away, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes then propped yourself up on your elbows, looking up to find a bright flash of Ferrari red blocking your view. The color was too much to take, considering the fact that you had just woken up.

Once your vision adjusted to the intrusion, you realized that Charles was just casually wearing a race suit, minus the shoes and gloves, and standing still-as-stone with a stupidly big smile on his face.

“You’re going somewhere?” You asked, wondering if you had forgotten about some event he told you about.

“Non.” He chuckled.

“Is this some sort of a suit fitting or something?” You furrowed your brows, trying to figure out why he was just wearing his suit in the house.

“Also no.”

“Then, what the hell is going on?” You frowned, now genuinely confused.

“C’mon. Think a little!” He teased, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

The wheels in your mind started spinning, trying to find any memory that would point you to the reason behind your boyfriend’s current attire.

“It’s still too early for this, Charles.” You gave up, “Why are you wearing the suit?”

“You forgot about Canada already?” He smirked, pulling the sheets off your body and placing his hand on your leg.

“What? What does that-“ then the conversation that happened after you had sex in the bathroom resurfaced in your mind, “Oh my god, Charles! I was joking!” You gasped.

You were wide awake now and fully sat up in the bed, your eyes glued on Charles as he laughed full-heartedly.

“Does that mean it doesn’t turn you on?” He teasingly asked after his laughter died down, already knowing the honest answer to his question.

“Viens ici, mon amour.” Come here, my love. He held out his hand and you took it, allowing him to help you onto his lap, the pajama shorts you were wearing doing barely anything to shield your skin from the rough material of his suit.

“Réponds-moi, chérie.” Answer me, darling. He slipped his hands under your shirt, resting them firmly on your waist. “It doesn’t turn you on?” His eyes studied your expression attentively, not wanting to miss any of your reactions to his words and his touch.

“I never said that.” You shortly replied, you walls clenching as you realized where this was going.

“Good.” He fiddled with the hem of your shirt, silently asking for permission to take it off.

With newfound eagerness, you quickly nodded and he pulled the material over your head, cursing under his breath when he realized you weren’t wearing a bra underneath. He pulled you closer, eliminating the remaining distance between you two and kissing you with pure hunger. His hands moved up your body painfully slow until they reached your hardened nipples, rolling them between his fingers and rubbing them with his thumbs.

When it came to Charles, that was enough to have you moaning into his mouth, that was all it took for you to start rocking against his crotch, desperate for any friction as you felt the wetness start to pool between your legs.

Charles then broke the kiss, moving down to nibble on your neck instead, leaving small marks on your collarbones.

“Wanna hear you, baby.” He spoke against your skin, the vibrations of his voice making you shiver.

His hands went back to your nipples and he pinched them with just enough force that you let out a high pitched moan and arched your body into him.

“Encore.” More.

He trailed his mouth down until his lips wrapped around the sensitive bud of nerves, his teeth carefully grazing the sensitive skin there. The feeling left you desperately aching for more, for stronger pleasure. It made you want anything he was willing to give, not caring if it was his fingers, his tongue or his dick.

“Charles, please.” You pleaded, you hand tugging on his hair to relieve some tension.

“Please what, ma belle?” He looked at you, clearly wanting an answer but not just any answer. He wanted an explicit one that would describe everything that’s on your mind in the filthiest way possible.

“Fuck… Please fuck me, Charles.” You begged, ending the sentence with a peck to his lips.

“Tsk,” he kissed your lips, “pas encore au moins.” Not yet at least, then his lips met the spot under your ear, “Il y a beaucoup de choses que je veux te faire d'abord.” There’s a lot of things i wanna do to you first. He clarified before he kissed the base of your neck then proceeded to suck a hickey there, the light stinging making you whimper.

Once he was satisfied with the mark he left, his fingers hooked onto the waistband of your shorts and panties, tugging on them demandingly.

“I want these off.”

You frowned at him as you realized that would leave you fully naked while he’s still completely covered up.

“You’re still fully dressed.” You pointed out, moving your hands to try to unzip the suit. However, he stopped your movements, grabbing your hand in his and bringing it up to kiss it.

“I wanna make the most out of the suit, mon amour.”

You didn’t really know what he meant but it didn’t matter because you trusted him, so you got up and slipped your shorts off, your panties immediately following.

You went back to straddle Charles but his hands immediately found your waist and he guided you into a sitting position different than the previous one. Much to your delight, you were now straddling his thigh, the contact between your clit and the suit material already making it difficult to breath steadily. It clicked in your mind, what Charles wanted and you almost moaned at the thought.

“Ride my thigh, ma belle. Make a mess on the suit for me.” You let out a shaky breath as his hands guided you to move. Your eyes squeezed shut, the amount of pleasure the friction was giving you being quite surprising.

“Non, ma cherie. Keep your eyes on me or I won’t let you cum. D’accord?” Okay? He instructed, one of his hands intertwining with yours. He started moving both your hands down your body until he reached his destination, one of his fingers slipping between your folds to rub your clit as he made sure to keep the rest interlaced with your fingers. You struggled to keep your eyes open as the pleasure intensified but you managed to keep them locked with Charles’ lust-filled ones. The way he was looking at you was sending electric sparks through you veins, effortlessly electrifying you. His eyes seemed to study every reaction you made and he payed attention to every breath you let out and every pleading whimper that slipped past your lips. He had his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he watched you ride his thigh, your eyes dark with lust and hooded from the pleasure, your cheeks already red as you struggled to catch your breath.

“Charles.” You whined, fighting the urge to just throw your head back and shut your eyes, letting the pleasure take over you. You found yourself searching for any support, your free hand eventually reaching for Charles chest, clutching onto the red material of the suit as you continued rocking your hips on his thigh.

“Merde, comme j’adore te voire comme ça.” Shit, how i adore seeing you like this. He said, your leg brushing against against his boner repeatedly driving him mad. His moved his hands back to your hips, gripping onto you so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if it left marks, forcing you to move faster. A string of profanities spilled out of your mouth as a result. Meanwhile, his strong gaze was making this experience ten times more erotic. It made you shake with pleasure as his eyes bored into yours with bone-chilling intensity.

“Oh god, i’m gonna-“ A load moan cut you off as your body begged you to release.

“Let it go, baby.” Charles reassured you, placing a kiss onto your chest. That was all it took for your head to fall backwards, the pressure in your stomach exploding as you whimpered in sensitivity. Your whole body shook as you released onto your boyfriend’s clothed thigh.

After that, and without any warning, Charles hoisted you up, turned around and laid you down on the bed while you were still panting, struggling to recover from such an intense orgasm. His lips immediately found yours as he hovered above you. The kiss held so much passion, desperation and lust, his teeth nibbling on your lips, his tongue fighting yours for dominance and pushing to freely discover your mouth. He kissed you like he was desperate to memorize the curve of your lips.

Little did you know that it was just a distraction since Charles wanted to catch you off guard. His plan seemed to have worked perfectly and he was greatly satisfied to hear you gasp when two of his fingers pushed into you without any warning. Your back arched in pleasure as your mind caught onto what was happening.

“Oh my god, Charles.” You moaned against his lips and you literally felt him smirk in satisfaction. He then moved down to l leave open-mouthed kisses on your neck and chest, simultaneously curling his fingers inside of you, rubbing all the right spots that have you whining in ecstasy under him. You reaction encouraged him to make it a point to curl them every few thrusts, loving how you reacted when he did.

Wanting to admire you as usual, Charles sat up a bit straighter, his eyes taking in every curve of your body and settling down onto your pussy where his fingers repeatedly disappeared inside of you.

“So fucking pretty with my fingers inside of you.” He praised, “Do you like it, ma belle? Does it feel good?” He asked in a dazed voice, getting lost in the sight of you so vulnerable under him, writhing on your shared bed as his fingers fucked you.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t muster an answer even if your life depended on it. You cried out his name in response, knowing Charles loved it when you did that. Other people might want clear answers and words, but he lived for the idea that you were too far gone to reply, that he was giving you so much pleasure that your brain couldn’t think of any words other than his name.

Your legs were starting to shake and close shut as another wave of pleasure built up inside of you but Charles was quick to force them apart with his knees while simultaneously increasing the speed he was moving his hand at. You didn’t really expect any less from him, given the fast reactions he was trained to have and all. It took seconds after that for him to feel your walls tightening against his digits. Once again, the pleasure took over your mind and you hand fisted the bedsheet as your moans increased. Another orgasm shook your body and you came for the second time, whimpering Charles’ name over and over.

Through hooded eyes, you watched as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, cleaning your arousal off of them with his tongue. He groaned once he realized you were watching, wanting you to know how much he enjoyed tasting you. His little show was the direct cause behind your inability to catch your breath.

“You should get a side job as a professional torturer. You’d do great in that field.” You joked, catching a glimpse of entertainment in his eyes.

“You taste so good, mon amour. Ça me donne l’envie d’en avoir plus.” It makes me want to have more. He suggested, already pushing your legs back apart. However, this time, you were quick to sit up, pushing him back by the shoulders.

“Take the suit off, for fuck’s sake. I might have said i like it but nothing comes close to being as attractive as your naked body.” You told him, giving his lips a small kiss and sliding your hand down to cup his erection, figuring that it might help your case. You were just craving the feeling of his bare skin against yours.

He seemed to be thinking his options through for a few seconds before he finally pulled you closer and breathed the words into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine: “Do it yourself if you are so desperate to see me naked, ma chérie.”

That was all it took for you to push him back so that he was laying with his back against the mattress. You climbed on top of him, your legs on either side of his body, your pussy right on top of crotch.

While it seemed unfair to tease him after the two mind blowing orgasms he gave you, you just couldn’t resist the urge to. You rocked your hips against him and smiled when he whined your name pleadingly.

You started off by kissing him, making sure to keep moving against his cock, feeling how hard he was for you. Then, you bit his lower lip, pulling on it a little before moving down to his neck, kissing it all the way down until you reached the collar of the race suit. You hands rushed to undo all the velcro tape that secured the zipper and once that part was done, you took the zipper’s slider between your teeth and started dragging it down slowly while looking up at Charles who was closely watching you with hunger, his lips parted open and lust written all over his face. You maintained eye contact and continued undressing him.

Once the race suit was completely unzipped, he pulled his arms out of the sleeves and you pulled the item of clothing completely off, leaving him in his boxers. It was a pleasant surprise that he wasn’t wearing anything underneath it like he normally did.

“You’ve taken such good care of me, mon amour, now let me take care of you.” You said, kissing his chest, his abs down his v-line, finally pulling his boxers off when you reached them, freeing his hard length. Charles immediately groaned in relief.

You stroked him a few time, rubbing your thumb along his tip, hearing him gasp as you licked his length all the way down to the base. You looked up to find him already watching you so you locked eyes with him, knowing he loved that.

A euphoric whimper left his mouth as he felt the warmth of your mouth around him, finally promising him a much needed relief.

Charles kept lifting his head off the mattress so he can watch you while you had your lips wrapped around him. You met his eyes right away, taking him deeper as he watched.

“Fuck.” He groaned when you looked up at him through your lashes just as he hit the back of your throat. You started moving your head up and down, basking in the noises Charles was making as you hollowed your cheeks around him, taking as much of him as possible into your mouth while moving your fingers around what you couldn’t take. His hands were forcefully tugging on the sheets, turning his knuckles white as your teeth very lightly grazed his length. Once you noticed his need to hold onto something, you brought your free hand up to one of his, intertwining your fingers. You immediately felt the pressure as he squeezed your hand, swearing left and right when you swirled your tongue on his tip.

No matter how good and natural Charles’ English became, he always referred back to his first language in these kinds of moments. You loved it. You loved hearing him curse in french and you loved it even more when he whispered filthy french remarks in you ear.

“Merde… Mon dieu, y/n. Je vais-“ Shit… My god, y/n. I’m gonna- He moaned, his hips bucking up, pushing himself further down your throat, making your eyes water. You could tell he was close. Seconds later, he finally let go, releasing into your mouth as he panted from his orgasm. You swallowed and sat up, smiling at him after wiping you mouth.

He smiled back and pulled you on top of him, kissing you passionately, but you knew him so well and you could tell there was still something on his mind. Therefore, it didn’t come as no surprise when he started mumbling against your lips.

“Still wanna taste you, chérie.” He said and quickly flipped you over so you were laying on your back. He kneeled by the bed and pulled you down so your legs were dangling off the edge.

“Spread your legs for me.” He asked and you happily complied.

“Si belle comme ça. Je t’adore,” So beautiful like this. I adore you, he kissed your inner thigh, “et j’adore ton corps.” And i adore your body. You felt his kisses turn into soft bites as he inched higher, coming closer to your wet core.

With no further warning, his tongue met your clit, flat against the nerve bundle.

“Spécialement cette partie de ton corps, chérie.” Especially this part of your body, darling. Contrasting his first move, he started giving you small licks, moving his tongue between your clit and your entrance.

“Charles, please.” You whined. Your body was ready to beg Charles for anything more.

“Quoi, mon amour? T’aime m’avoir entre tes jambes? Dis-moi combien tu aime ma langue, et je te donnerai ce que tu veux, chérie.” What, my love? Do you love having me between your legs? Tell me how much you love my tongue and i’ll give you what you want, darling. He told you then went back to teasing you.

“Please… Charles, please. Oh my god.” You moaned as he sucked on your clit.

“Dis-moi, ma belle.” Tell me, my beautiful. He still insisted, not backing down.

“Fuck. I love having you between my legs, i love it so much, i fucking adore your tongue and it makes me feel so fucking good. Fuck, Charles. Please, please do something.”

Having gotten what he wanted, he dived right in, pushing his tongue into you and licking you like he’s hungry for it. Your hands quickly got lost in his hair and he pulled your legs to rest on his shoulders, giving him better access to your pussy.

“So wet for me, ma belle.” Charles spoke against your entrance, sending the vibrations of his voice through your body. You felt his tongue stroking you in all the right places, making you arch your back. Charles’ hands immediately pressed against your stomach, pushing you back down to lay flat against the mattress.

“Un peu de patience, chérie.” A little bit of patience, darling. He taunted, guiding his fingers to rub your clit as his tongue lapped on your wetness.

It took barely any time for your orgasm to build up since you were still sensitive from his teasing and your two previous ones.

“I’m gonna cum.” You warned him before letting go while gasping his name, feeling his comforting hand rub circles on your thigh as you tugged on his hair.

“You’re doing such a good job, mon amour.” He praised and watched you get flustered over his comment. It made him grin.

He then laid beside you, held your hand and waited for you to recover, comfortingly kissing your knuckles and wrist for a couple minutes before pitching in the idea of him fucking you.

“Think you can still handle that?” He asked, pushing back the hair from your damp forehead.

You quickly nodded, desperately wanting to feel him fill you up even after three orgasms.

“T’es completement sûr?” You’re completely sure? He questioned.

Instead of a reply, you pulled him towards you and he quickly got the memo.

Charles got back on top of you, lodging himself between your legs, his mouth covering yours in loving kisses. His hand wrapped around his cock, repeatedly moving his tip from your clit to your entrance teasingly.

“Charles, s’il te plais…” Charles, please… you whined, not feeling appreciative of his teasing.

“Que veux tu, mon amour?” What do you want, my love? He smirked, pushing his tip into you little before moving it back to your clit.

“I want you. Fuck me. Please. I want to feel you filling me up so bad.” You begged in desperation and he thrust into you all at once, making your mouth fall open. He started moving inside of you almost immediately, the feeling of your pussy squeezing him making him feel so desperate for a second release.

“Always so good and warm around me.” He praised, pounding into you with increased spead, his hips meeting yours perfectly with every movement.

He knew your body like the back of his hand. He memorized all your cues, all your curves and all your features, but most importantly, he knew just what leaves you writhing and moaning beneath him. He knew that the spot he was hitting inside of you would make you whimper from the pleasure and he was right, your cries of ecstasy feeling like his own personal reward. He loved his effect on you and how responsive to him you were.

As the pleasure intensified, you decided that he was too far from you, that you needed him closer. Therefore, you reached up for him, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him down closer to your chest.

“I love you so much, Charles.” You breathed the words before meeting his lips in a sloppy kiss he happily welcomed.

“Je t’aime aussi, ma belle.” I love you too, my beautiful. He said the words back between kisses as he made sure to push deeper into you. Your hips subconsciously lifted to meet his thrusts, proving that your bodies were in full sync. The feeling made you release a high pitched moan that got muffled by Charles’ lips.

For many minutes, he moved inside you repeatedly, every thrust feeling better than the previous one and every move bringing you closer to your orgasm. You knew you wouldn’t last long since the sensitivity from your previous releases was still in effect. You were already struggling to steady your legs so you wrapped them around Charles, pulling him even closer if that was possible.

“More, please.” You managed to say, desperate for him to give you everything he has to give.

“More what, babe?” He sounded breathless but you were busy admiring how swollen his lips looked to acknowledge that.

“More everything, Charles.” You rushed then quickly pushed your lips against his again.

He moaned into your mouth and started thrusting faster and harder like you asked, one of his hands moving down your body, pulling one of your legs up by the thigh, giving him better access for a deeper angle as the other limb remained wrapped around him.

He could literally feel the vibrations in your legs as he felt you clenching onto his dick.

“Fuck, i swear i’ll never get used to this.” He groaned then leaned down to kiss your neck, “Tu es si parfaite, mon amour.” You are so perfect, my love. The words were whispered right into your ear, igniting goosebumps on your skin as you felt the pleasure build up. Charles immediately noticed it by how hard your walls were squeezing him.

“You wanna cum, babe?” He asked.

“Yes. Oh god, fuck yes. I don’t think i can hold it, Charles.” You stated the obvious as your body shuddered with pent up pleasure.

“Then let go for me, chérie. Cum all over my cock.”

And you did let go. The intensity of such a strong orgasm blinded you, made you lose control over your body as Charles stilled inside of you. You brain seemed to have forgotten all the words it knew, settling down on repeatedly whining Charles’ name like a broken player, while he lightly caressed your thigh.

He patiently waited for your breathing to go back to normal and for you to open you eyes and when you did, you were met with his caring gaze and a soft smile on his lips.

“Tout va bien?” Is everything okay? He asked. You only nodded in response.

“I don’t want to push you too hard but can you handle one more? I wanna cum inside you so bad.”

You barely thought his words through before accepting. That’s the thing about sex with Charles: too much still never felt like enough.

“Wanna ride you though.” You slurred, suddenly feeling the need for control.

Charles gladly nodded.

“That’s my girl.” He grinned, kissing your temples.

You both then adjusted your positions so he was sat against the headboard with you on top of him, taking his dick inside of you as deep as it can go.

Sure, you were so incredibly sensitive that every move doubled in intensity but you were enjoying these moments of vulnerability with Charles.

You started moving, bouncing on his length and watching as his eyes closed and his head fell back against the headboard, exposing his neck. You leaned in closer and planted small kisses against his jaw. You debated giving him a love bite, calculating if it would fade before the Silverstone grand prix. Giving into your thoughts, you started sucking and biting onto the skin under his ear until you saw a bruise form. You made sure to keep the hickey small so it would fade just in time for his trip to Britain.

Meanwhile, Charles’ hands moved down your back and clawed at you ass as you alternated between bouncing on him and rolling your hips.

“Oh mon dieu. Oui chérie, juste comme ça.” Oh my god. Yes darling, just like that. He whined with a weak voice.

“J'aurais dû te faire supplier comme t’as fait à moi.” I should’ve made you beg like you did with me. You pointed out just to get a reaction out of him.

“Tu crois?” You think? He immediately replied in a challenging tone. You hummed in confirmation.

“Alright then.” His hands firmly gripped your waist, ending your brief moment of power by controlling your movements. The lazy and mellow pace quickly transformed back to a fast and rough one as he moved you faster against his dick, bringing out more frequent moans and whimpers from the both of you. The sensitivity of your clit from the preceding actions was starting to get to you as it rubbed against Charles’ crotch. It even increased as he started thrusting his hips up, making your breath catch in your throat at how deep in your stomach you felt him.

By now, you were feeling too weak to hold yourself up so you just collapsed on his chest, your lips parted and your eyes teary from the overwhelming pleasure. For the fifth time today, you felt your orgasm nearing, only this time it felt way more intense. This wasn’t a wave of pleasure, this was a fucking tsunami.

“I’m gonna cum.”

Charles’ hand briefly left your waist. He raked it through your hair, brushing it behind your ear so he could whisper to you.

“Pas encore, y/n. Attends un peu.” Not yet, y/n. Wait a little.

“What?” You mind was too hazy to comprehend that this was his reaction to you suggesting you make him beg.

“Beg for it, babe.” He smirked through his moans.

You immediately obeyed since you felt like you couldn’t hold it in for long, your shaking legs doing nothing but proving your point.

“Please, Charles, I need to cum so bad, please let me.” The brief sentence was all you managed to say.

“Oh c’mon, ma belle. Je suis certain que tu peux faire mieu que ça.” I’m sure you can do better than that.

“I need to cum so fucking bad. You feel so good so deep inside of me, i really need to cum all over your cock, Charles. Please, i’m begging you. I can’t hold it in anymore.” You blurted out, not understanding how you managed so much words in this state.

You got no reply from Charles. You just noticed him move you faster, making you shake and struggle more. Then you felt him twitch inside of you.

“Let go now.” He finally said and you both came together, cursing and whimpering each other’s names as you finally released. Tears spilled from your eyes as you felt the relief wash over you, the overstimulation making this feel way more sensual and intense than usual.

However, it worried Charles when he felt a teardrop fall onto his chest.

“Look at me, ma belle.” He lifted your chin up so he could see your face.

“Did i take it too far? Was it too much?” He asked with genuine worry once he saw your tear streaked cheeks. He wiped your face while waiting for a response.

“Oh my god, no! Not at all, mon amour. That was the best orgasm of my life.” You gave him a drunken smile and kissed his jaw since you didn’t have the energy to pull yourself up to kiss his lips yet. “It was perfect and you are beyond perfect.”

“You worried me for a second there, ma chérie.” He wrapped his arms around you and hugged you close. Your arms imitated his and wrapped around his torso as well while you smiled at his concern.

“Is it a day off today?” You hopefully asked seconds later, desperately craving a lazy day of cuddling with him after so much action this morning.

He hummed in confirmation, resting his head on top of yours and closing his eyes.

Your heart did a little dance at his response. You were more than delighted that you had him all to yourself the whole day.

“Then let me just get up and-“ you started to pull yourself up so he can pull out but Charles groaned in objection and held you closer.

“Not yet.” He objected, “This is easier than cleaning ourselves up anyway and it’s comfortable as fuck too.” He smiled.

There wasn’t a single bone in your body that was fighting to resist this offer so you just relaxed against him.

“Merci.” He thanked you for not arguing with him before reaching over to pull the covers on top of you.

The movement caused some friction down where your bodies were still joint together, making you hiss since you felt unable to handle even this slight friction.

“Sorry, babe.” He quickly apologized and covered the two of you up. You sat there in comfortable, much needed silence until he started speaking again.

“I would just like to take a moment to thank all the Ferrari gods for gifting us such a magical suit. It is truly a gift to be appreciated.” You looked up at Charles and saw him dramatically looking up, speaking like he was actually thanking a god of some sort with an adorable, playful grin on his face.

It made you chuckle against his chest and the sound immediately attracted his attention. He looked down at you with an adoring, delighted smile and kissed your forehead with so much emotion if felt like the physical form of “i love you”.

It barely took a couple minutes until the exhaustion of the morning’s events caught up to you two and you fell back asleep in each others’ arms with small, peaceful smiles painted on your lips.

#charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc oneshots #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 x reader #charles leclerc smut #f1 smut #f1 imagines #f1 oneshots

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dikansong · 1 year

Text

Baby blue

⭐⭐Story summary ⭐⭐

The day he walked into your pastry shop marked a new beginning for you, the blossoming of a beautiful friendship. But you should have known, humans are good at hiding their dark sides.

⭐Tags: Dubious Consent, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Possessive Behavior, Power Play, Name-Calling, Smut, Kissing, Rough Sex Overstimulation, Gojo Satoru is His Own Warning, Size Kink, No Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Cheating(?) Friends With Benefits, Mild Blood/injury, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat!! Not Beta Read Gojo Satoru is unhinged this fic is dark, No use of y/n Female Reader Non-Curse AU, curses don't exist here Gojo is super rich, you are a programmer, S&M

⭐I wrote this is one evening. Word count: 7.1k

⭐Minors please please please, do not interact

⭐Cross posted on AO3 under the same name @DikanSong

How did you two meet? You liked to think it was pure luck. Your shift had just ended and you were packing your things, ready to return home and take a long hot bath after so many hours of hard work. Maybe treat yourself to a snack and some home movies. After all the next day was your day off, it wasn't like you had much to do anyway. Just as you were about to leave, your colleague and closest friend at work, Hibiki, rushed in with urgency in his voice. He asked if you could cover for him, his sister suddenly collapsed and was rushed to the hospital. Being the only family she has, he had to be by her side. You didn't think much to it, instantly agreeing to cover for him. You told yourself that he would do same for you anyway.

The evening was turning out to be a slow one. You worked at a sweets and baked goods store. It wasn't exactly your dream job (you already had that,) but you were making a steady income from it. It was a nice side hustle, you got to meet with people and work on your social skills anyway. And sometimes it was fun. Your heart would always belong to coding and programming.

You positioned yourself at your post, putting on your best charismatic smile. You tried not to think too much about staying out so late, but anything for a friend right? When the doorbell rang throughout the quiet air, you straightened your back

"Good evening." You greeted with cheer. "May I take your order?" Your words died in your throat the moment you saw him.

He was tall. So tall he had to bend to enter the shop. He was dressed in a white shirt and black pants, expensive looking dress shoes in his feet. He walked towards the counter and smiled brightly. His smile was utterly stunning and his white hair gave him an ethereal appearance. You however couldn't see his eyes as they were hidden behind dark sunglasses.

He was so handsome.

Clearing your throat, you pulled yourself from your thoughts. The man leaned over the counter.

"Good evening," He replied your greeting. "Are you new here? I haven't seen you around."

Oh, he must be a regular customer then. "No sir, I'm not new." You replied curtly. "May I take your order?"

He proceeded to order quite a large batch of sweets. He paid and tipped very generously. The exchange didn't take long, he left but not without dropping a casual 'see you later'. You reminded yourself to ask Hibiki about him.

You didn't think much about him, since you probably won't see him again. When you asked Hibiki abouut him your colleague replied that he was a regular and that was all. Your life seemingly went back to normal. But three weeks later he showed up again, this time on your shift. The both of you talked while you put his order together. Mindless small talk, weather and news. You had to calm your racing heart a lot. It was awfully easy for you to slip up and mess up when in the presence of a stunning person. Especially one as stunning as him.

From that day on, he would visit almost everyday, buy sweets and talk. You slowly found yourself looking forward to work just for a chance to see him and chat about what ever came up. You never asked for him name and he never asked for yours. It was frankly refreshing. And you liked it. This went on for two weeks. Till one day he asked if you were free after work. Shocked, you had said yes. He gave you his card. Gojo Satoru, that was his name. Call me when you're ready, he had said.

And so you found yourself putting extra time into your make up and outfit. You'd stop and scold yourself. It wasn't even a date, you told yourself. You were just hanging out. That was it. Still you didn't stop going over your hair and making sure it was perfect. He picked you up and drove to a decent restaurant.

Gojo Satoru was bored. As the heir of a very successful multi billion dollar line of companies, his life was set forever. He was bored with everything and constantly seeking out new forms of entertainment. On that fateful evening when he walked into his regular sweets store and met you rather than the kid he was accustomed to, he found the change interesting. As the days went by and your conversations bloomed, he found that he enjoyed them. You were easy going but professional at the same. He honestly had no intention of roping you into his life but…he was bored. And so he asked you out.

So for that evening he treated you like a princess. The both of you talked over the most delicious curry you'd ever tasted. He asked questions about you, surface questions, nothing too serious. When the night was over, you admitted to having a great time.

"Maybe we should do this again?" He suggested, half expecting you to refuse, half expecting you to say yes.

You thought for a while, "that'd be fun."

And fun it was.

It was the blossoming of a beautiful friendship. The two of you became friends after that. And for a while, Gojo's boredom was satiated. You would got to the movies, hang out, sometimes you'd invite him over to your place and you'd play video games or watch a movie or something. It was really nice. You felt really flattered that a man as beautiful as him was friends with you.

Maybe that realization was what kicked it off.

After a year of this, you were invited to a friend's birthday party. What you hadn't expected was for Gojo to be there too. Your friend, Shouko, who was also invited asked how you knew Gojo. Shouko and you had basically no secrets from each other. Having being born in the same hospital on the same day and growing up together you knew each other so well. People often joked that you two were twins.

"He's my friend." You replied while sipping on champagne. The expensive bubbles ticked your tongue and made you feel relaxed.

Shouko's dark brown eyes narrowed. "Just friends?" She asked.

"Yea.." You replied. "You don't actually think I have a chance with him, do you?"

Shouko shook her head, a playful smile tugging on her red lips. "Just saying…just saying. But seriously though, I'd stay away from Gojo Satoru if I were you."

You didn't have time to ponder on her words as the celebrant dragged you off for a photo session. You hardly saw Shouko after that, assuming she'd left. After a few more glasses of champagne you started to feel tipsy and thought it best to get some air outside. You met Gojo outside. He was leaning against the wall, staring at the night sky.

"Hi," You greeted. He turned to you and smiled. You wished you could see his eyes. Those damn sunglasses. "Wanna go home?"

"You're drunk." He remarked casually, a small smile on his lips.

"Nope. Just a lil bit tipsy." You joined him on the wall. "Would you like to watch movies with me?"

"My place or yours?" At that moment it didn't cross your mind that you hadn't actually been to his place.

"Mine" You replied. "Hope you're not drunk?"

He smiled. "One of us has to be sober, don't you think?"

You giggled. He drove you to your place. You invited him in. After a cold shower and light dinner, you both settled down on your couch to watch a Disney classic. You blamed it on the alcohol. He blamed it on bad decisions. You kissed him. He returned your kiss. Soon hands were roaming each others bodies, clothes were flung off and you woke up alone with a burning between your legs and a tray of painkillers on your bedside table.

You went back to work, your mind in a hazy state. You remembered very well what had happened, and you remembered it was you who started everything. You felt kind of bad, for reasons you couldn't place. You didn't expect him to show up as usual, but to your greatest surprise he did. And he didn't bring up the previous night, neither did you. But after that something changed. The way you saw Gojo began to change as well.

Had you caught feelings? Was that even possible?

You couldn't deny it, he was insanely attractive. He could get any woman he wanted to jump in his lap. And he was incredible in bed too. You found yourself wanting more of him.

The next time you both were alone, you couldn't keep to yourself. This time you were free from the influence of alcohol. He was incredibly gentle with you taking his time to give you pleasure. When you wanted to return the favour he declined, telling you that this was about you. You felt wanted. It was a new feeling. When the night was over you asked him what you were. He hesitated.

Gojo was excellent at reading people. And as a result of that he knew exactly how to act around certain types of people. He knew what to say. And when it came to you, you were a wide open book. There were no secrets. He knew the type of woman you were. He knew you needed constant validation and affection. He had truly hoped you'd grow bored and leave. But to his surprise you stuck around. He saw it in your eyes as he rutted his hips into yours. The hazed look, the lovesick gaze. He knew you were in love with him. A stupid foolish thing for you to do.

"I can't do relationships." He said at last. "I can't give you that. Love and romance. If that's what you want, you should better go." He expected, really expected you to accept this and just leave.

Your heart broke, you weren't going to lie. "Oh,"

"But if you want, if it suits you, we can continue doing this." He offered. You were a modest girl, he knew that. You should refuse. You should walk away. But you didn't. Your eyes shone and you nodded. And he hated you for that. Why were you giving him the green light? We're you that fucking dumb? Couldn't you see what was going on?

"Of course…" You whispered shyly.

That was when all hell went loose.

You don't know exactly what changed but something did. It became clear to you your feelings for him. You were in love with him. You didn't know if he knew though, you hadn't told him. Gojo began to take you on expensive dates. When he came over he would bring gifts. Expensive fruit, jewelry, clothes, desserts, random stuff, whatever he saw fit. You would shyly accept those gifts. When he was not on trips you would bake him something, you knew he had a sweet tooth. And when he was away on trips he would call and check up on you regularly. It was like a relationship, except you still knew nothing about him and he wouldn't make you his girlfriend. But you couldn't deny how good it felt being spoiled like this. It only made your feelings for him grow.

You began to notice a change in his behaviors. He was a very busy man, you knew that much. But the times he was available he became possessive. You noticed how his expression would change when he saw you with a guy. You found it a bit too intense for someone who insisted on a "no strings attached attachment". But you ignored it. Of course you would ignore it, because you were so in love with him and wanted him to stay with you.

"You should stop going to work." He said after a very steamy night at his place that left your breathless and sore followed by the sweetest aftercare ever. The both of you laid in his bed, not talking. You were enjoying the silence, because it frankly hurt your throat to talk. Your back was turned to him, he held you close to him tight his thumb rubbed circles into your hip through your pajamas.

"I…I have to p-pay bills." You gasped, feeling very exhausted. You just wanted to sleep, and maybe take some painkillers. Your throat hurt so much.

"I can take care of you, you know that." His voice had a edge and his arm around you tightened.

You heart sank. You didn't like the sound of that at all. You knew he was rich alright, filthy rich and he could take care of you. But to drop your work? That hurt just to think about it. Out of the question.

You turned to face Gojo. He was staring intently at you. His brilliant blue eyes unreadable. You blinked to remind yourself why you turned. It was awfully easy to get lost staring at his jewel-like eyes.

"Why?" You asked, your heart racing. Was this the moment he was going to ask you to be his official girlfriend? You doubted it. But still it didn't hurt to dream. Then you added bitterly, "It's not like we're dating."

His jaw clenched. Often times you would pipe up the topic of dating to him and he would quickly shut it down. It was conflicting how he didn't want to date you but continued to act like you two were dating.

"Because I said so." He replied calmly, the edge in his voice gone.

He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his bright blue eyes locked onto yours. The gesture was too affectionate for your liking, the eye contact too intense. He just stared at you, as if he was reading your mind. Held spellbound by his eyes, you could do nothing but blink. His lips formed a small soft smile. He raised his hand, his fingertips massaged your earlobe. And for a while his eyes flashed with lust.

You turned away from him, focusing your gaze on a beautiful painting ahead of you. His hand moved to your hair, caressing your scalp softly. You became aware of the feeling of the silk pajamas you wore. Maybe he chose the softest silk so your bruises would suffer less. Gojo was talking, but you weren't listening to him. You wondered how much the painting on the wall cost, if he would get mad should you destroy it.

From then on things got worse for you. Everything. You'd come home one day to find him already at your place. And in a bad mood.

"Where have you been?" He asked straight without a greeting.

"Well hello," You mumbled. You were beyond exhausted. And you weren't expecting to see him. How did he even have the key to your house? You didn't recall ever giving it to him.

"I asked you a question." His voice was clipped, annoyed.

"I went on a date." You replied casually. "Actually it's ready late and I have work tomorrow so…"

"A date?" He was quick on his feet, his body blocking you and stopping you from moving. You backed up and stared at him. His eyes were angry. So beautiful and so angry. You chest hurt. How dare he?! He kept you around as an option but didn't allow you to have other options.

"Yes." You replied quietly. "I went on a date." You'd barely finished before his hand gripped your neck cutting off your air flow. Caught off guard, you yelped and dropped your bags, trying to pry him off you. It was difficult. He didn't even budge.

He said your name, his voice calm. He backed you up into the nearest wall. His hold on your neck didn't let up. "You're mine. Don't you ever forget that. That being said, I don't want you with another man. Okay?"

You wanted to scream at him. You wanted to kick him. You wanted to tell him you hated him and that it was over. You wondered what was holding you back.

But you knew the answer.

You loved Gojo. And you wanted to make him happy. You wanted to make him love you back. And you thought that if you stuck around long enough that would happen, he would fall in love with you. So that was why you nodded, slowly and defeated. The smile that graced his face was nothing short of malicious. It was a sharp contrast to his angelic features. His hand left your neck and you took in an exaggerated amount of breath. He patted your head like one would an obedient dog.

"That's my girl…"

Yes. What a good girl you were for him. That night he was rough with you. He ignored your pleas and your cries, bending your body past your limits. He pushed your face into the sheets so your cries were muffled. His nails dug into your skin leaving cuts. You couldn't help but feel that he was punishing you, being rough with you to drive a point home. It hurt. But at the same time he knew the buttons to push. He knew how to make you feel good. When the pain was distracting from the pleasure you tried to focus on, he would switch and become gentler. The switch was maddening and you couldn't tell which was worse - the pain or the pleasure. When he was done, he handled you like glass, cleaning you up and drawing a bath. When he left you to soak in the bath, you cried.

"What is it?" His voice on the other side of the door asked with a sigh.

You glared at the door. "I'm okay!"

"If you're okay then why are you crying?" Gojo asked, annoyance clear in his voice.

So many things rushed to your mind at once. So many words you wanted to say. You bit them down. When you took too long to answer you heard his footsteps recede. You only cried even more.

Gojo treated you worse after that. He did things without your consent. For instance he changed your entire wardrobe, claiming your old clothes were too "drab". He made your boss fire you and when you got another job he just did the same thing. You just knew he had people watching you. In all these you know you should've ran. But you didn't. Because if you left him, how could you make him love you?

He would show up without prior information at your place and his hands would be all over you. Sometimes he'd take you to his place but nothing would change.

At first he would talk to you, ask about your day, but then he got bored of it and just went straight to taking off your clothes. You tried to get him to stay after, to talk or watch movies like our used to. But he wouldn't listen to you. He'd come, fuck you and leave. He gave you more expensive gifts, like some sort of apology for nearly breaking your body Everytime. You began to detest those gifts because for each one you had a scar or mark on your body for it from Gojo's rough handling of your body. He would tell you how much be cared for you, and how much he didn't want anyone to lay their filthy hands on you. How no man deserved you but him. He would tell you how everything he did he did for you.

He never once told you that he loved you.

You would cry yourself to sleep. And still hold on to the hope that he'd love you. How naive and stupid you were. To him you were just a meat sack with fuckable holes. You were just an option, not the option. It hurt and your heart broke everytime. You didn't know how much longer you could take it. How much longer your body could take his manhandling. You missed the old days. When things were much more simpler. When the two of you did mundane things and actually enjoyed each other's company. When the joy of seeing him was true.

Gojo on the other hand knew he was an asshole for treating you the way he was. He knew you didn't deserve it. He couldn't imagine another man treating you the way he was treating you. He wanted to let you go, yet at the same time he couldn't bear the thought of another man touching you. He hated to admit it, but you were fun. You were lonely, easy to manipulate and control. Even though you pretended to be bold he knew your resistance withered everytime he pressed for what he wanted. And damn did he know how to press. He knew something was wrong with him. But he also didn't care. The sick pleasure he got from seeing your face contorted in pain was satisfying. Your pleas and whines he found cute. Something about the way you took everything he gave you, the way you'd stare at him as he rutted his hips into you, the emotion in your eyes, the silent hope…it was an elixir he could never get enough of. You were so eager, so pliant, so demure. He wanted to ruin you.

All because of the sick love you had for him.

Who could love someone like him? He was disgusted. With you or himself he didn't know. He wanted you to fight back. He wanted you to hit him. He wanted you to yell at him. To do something other than cry in the bathroom and into your pillow. He wanted you to call him out, to get up and leave. Call it quits. But he knew very well that he wouldn't let you leave. He's too selfish for that. It's too much fun. You're too much fun. It's sick and it's abnormal, but he doesn't care.

So he continues to play with his toy, breaking it each time to see how much it can take before it falls apart. It's a sick game, but he enjoys it. Seeing you helpless, hearing you beg, being a good girl while he pushes your body into positions he knows you can't handle. Watching fear stirring in your eyes. Fear and that sick love.

Maybe something was wrong with you too. Maybe you were as messed up as he was.

You stared at your laptop absentmindedly. You were trying to work on a freelance project. But you couldn't focus at all. You felt miserable. You felt depressed, drained. Gojo was on a business trip, he didn't specify when he'd be back, he never did. You shut your laptop and walked to your fridge. There was nothing interesting there. With a heavy sigh you ran your hands through your hair. You had the urge to get drunk. Very drunk and wasted. You wanted to forget about Gojo, even for a night. With this energy you showered and got ready. You wore a racy dress that drew attention to your figure. You were proud of your body, Gojo seemed to worship it anyway. It felt like your greatest weapon. Natural makeup and dainty heels. You drove to a fancy but really good club.

The loud music was overpowering. Not really in the mood to dance, you headed over to the bar to get a drink. You thought the bartender looked really familiar. Long dark hair, ear hoops, a devilishly handsome face.

He called you name, as if confused or unsure if it truly was you.

You almost squinted. But then it but you. He was Geto Suguru, and you knew him from your uni days. Your face broke into a bright smile.

"Suguru!" You screamed above the music. "Gods, I've missed you!"

Suguru smiled coyly. "It's certainly been a while, my dear. Although I have to point out you're not one for places like this."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "I want to get drunk! Can you do that for me?" You didn't stop to think how you'd have to drive home. You weren't thinking at all.

He raised his brows questionably but didn't ask "Of course." He poured you a drink and you drowned it in three gulps.

You tried to make small talk. It had been a long time since you had last seen each other. And in that time he hadn't changed that much. He was still handsome as ever, and still chose to wear all black. Not that you were complaining, it always looked good on him. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, or maybe it was the club atmosphere but you clenched your thighs the longer Suguru talked. You watched his lips move, utterly mesmerized.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" You suddenly blurted. He looked taken aback then laughed.

"No, I don't. Is anything the matter?"

You sighed. "Just some stress."

He gave you a glass of water. You scowled at him darkly. He flashed a charming smile. "Boy problem?"

You rolled your eyes. But you didn't touch the water. You didn't come her to drink water. "Duh.."

"Little wonder you're here. Do you want to talk or…" He didn't finish his sentence but you got the drift.

At first you wanted to decline. But then you recalled the countless times you'd seen Gojo with women. The countless lipstick stains, he always complained about lipstick stains, made you wear lip tints, but still managed to get some. It's not even like you were dating. If he wasn't exclusive to you what made him think you should be to him?

"You won't feel bad?" You asked Suguru.

"Nope." He replied with a wink. "I'd be happy to help out an old friend."

You knew you were making a bad mistake. You had the nagging fear that Gojo would know. But those fears were put in the back of your mind. For one night, for one fucking night, you didn't want to think about him. No. Not as Suguru's lips were on yours. Not as he locked the door to the toilet stall you found yourself in. Not as his hands explored your body at a relaxed pace. Not while he looked at you like you were the most exquisite woman to walk the earth.

"You're beautiful," He whispered in your ear, his hot breath making you shiver. He undid the zipper of the your dress, careful not to rip it. He kissed your bare skin. There was something about how he explored your body. He seemed relaxed, like he had all the time in the world. He was very vocal, praising and worshipping your body. Gojo hardly spoke to you during sex, unless he was trying to drive a point home and he did so using such derogatory words that you couldn't believe came from his beautiful mouth. You frowned when you found your thoughts drifting to him. You didn't want to think about him at all.

Suguru's skillful fingers finding your slick core drew you from your thoughts. A loud moan left your mouth as he pumped his fingers slowly while rubbing your clit with his thumb. He was being so gentle as though you'd break if he applied force, which you probably would. Backing you up against the wall, one hand in your folds, the other peeling your gown off your body. You felt him pause and opened your eyes. He was staring at the bruises and marks that littered your skin, his expression unreadable.

"Hey…"

You bit your lip. "Suguru please," You held onto him tightly. "Please just fuck me." Your face was bright red. But you meant every word you said. He leaned in and kissed your lips softly while resuming the motion of his fingers inside you. It wasn't long before you came hard, twitching and biting your lip so hard it bled.

"I don't think we should do this."

You were still calming down from your high. You stared at Suguru, his gaze moved to your bare body, but there was nothing sexual about it. He was angry. You suddenly wanted to cry. You immediately detached yourself from him and hastily fixed your clothes.

"M-maybe you're right." You said with a half chuckle. What were you thinking? If Gojo learns of this there was no telling what he would do. "I'm sorry…I…"

Suguru pulled you into a hug. "I understand. And as much as I want to know the bastard that did this to you, I can tell you're scared about something."

You returned the hug, your body trembling. "Thank you." He gave you his card.

"Call me if you need help. And I mean it."

You nodded. Without any more words you left. You headed straight outside. Tears stung your eyes. Hurt and scared tears. Gojo will be so mad, that was all you thought about. You couldn't find your car. Utterly confused, you stared at the empty spot you had parked it. Your heart began to sink.

"Yo!"

You knew that voice too well. You didn't recognize the car that pulled up in front of you but you recognized the driver.

"Satoru…"

You could feel his eyes sweep over your appearance even through his dark shades. You felt it on your face, his eyes taking in your teary eyes and revealing clothes. His jaw clenched. From what you could see he was wearing a suit. He'd probably just gotten back. He got out of the car and held open the door for you.

"I've arranged for your car to be sent home. Let's go, you'll catch a cold dressed like that." He said. His voice was calm. Too calm. You obeyed. He got into the car and started driving.

"How was your trip?" You asked, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere.

"It was cancelled." He replied simply and said nothing else.

"I'm… I'm sorry. I..I didn't mean to I just needed to get some stress off my chest and I…."

"You're sorry for what?" He cut you off, glancing at you briefly.

You hung your head. A tear breached your lashes. Your shoulders trembled. "I…I was with a man."

There was no sound in the car. It had become deadly quiet. Then a very low 'oh' From Gojo. You knew you'd fucked up.

He drove to his place. He hadn't said a word to you. You mind was whirling with the possibilities of what he could do to you. He ushered you into the white penthouse and locked the door behind him. He took off his jacket and tie. Without glancing at you he walked over to his bar and poured himself a drink.

"Satoru I…"

"Why are you so selfish?" He asked. He hadn't shouted but his tone made you flinch. His eyes were on the drink in his hand, or so you guessed. "what haven't I done for you? Am I not enough for you?"

You bit your lip. "It's not that."

"Humour me." He sat on one of the couches, stretching his long legs in front of him. You felt his gaze move to you. You remained where you stood, trying not to feel small.

"I," You struggled for words. You searched for his eyes through his dark shades but couldn't find them. "I want to be loved. I want to feel wanted for who I am and not just my body.."

"And you thought a fucking one night stand would give you that?" He scoffed. "You're more dumb than I thought." You can't really say his words hurt you, your heart ached enough already.

"You're the one being selfish here!" You suddenly screamed. "You want me all to yourself but you wouldn't even date me! You're free to do as you please, sleep with as many women as you want but I'm not! How am I selfish?!"

"Is that what this about?" He sighed in a bored manner. He took off his sunglasses, bright blue eyes now dark and muddled with something you couldn't name. "I told you at the start of this, didn't I? I told you that I cannot give you romance. Did I not give you a chance to walk away?"

Tears filled your eyes. This was beyond cruel. "That's…"

"But you didn't, you chose to stay. And now you're acting out. You're overreacting dear. Look at what you've done to yourself."

His words cut like a knife. You could feel yourself trembling under his gaze. "Satoru…."

"I have been good to you. But that's not good enough is it? You want some sappy dude to lie to you." He chuckled to himself. "Love? Love is a curse, y/n. It's something people came up with to hide what they actually want. Did I ever hide what I wanted? Did I ever lie to you? Why do you have to be so selfish?"

"Please….Satoru….stop.. "

His eyes flashed. A sadistic smile formed on his face. "You're so fucking ungrateful. You know that right?"

This was not fair. He was turning the tables on you. You hadn't done anything! It was he who was wrong! Why wouldn't he just listen to you?!

"That's not true!" You cried. "Just stop! Stop it! Please…"

He didn't. If anything your tears spurred him on. Ah, you should've known. He loved seeing you suffer.

"I get it now. You thought you could change me. Damn, you're really that dumb?" He scoffed while staring at you like you were a stupid child. His eyes were filled with disgust and anger and hatred it made you feel sick. "I thought you were a smart girl."

You wiped your eyes. Something inside you hardened. "I'm leaving. It's over." You turned to leave, your hands pulled into tight fists.

He rose to his feet in an instant and grabbed your arms, spinning your body to face him. "No. You're not going anywhere. Is that clear? You had you cahbce to leave, you didn't take it."

"I hate you!" You screamed at him. You were sure new bruises would decorate your arm with how hard he was holding, and how his grip tightened each time you struggled. "Let me go!"

He grabbed you by the hair and pulled you to the couch. He flung you carelessly but before you could escape he grabbed the back of your neck and pushed your face into the couch. You felt a sharp pain radiate from your nose to your head.

"Maybe if I fuck you senseless you won't have enough brains to think of looking at another man." You heard him say behind you, his tone full of vitriol.

You tried to scream, to beg for mercy but your face in the couch muffled your voice. You couldn't breathe. His grip on your neck was hard. Your nose was probably bleeding by now with the force he slammed your face into the couch with. Your head was pounding so badly. And the tears didn't stop. He pushed your gown up so it bunched at your hips. In a smooth motion he tore your underwear off, the straps digging into your skin and making you whine with pain.

Gojo chuckled, spreading your lips his middle finger swiping your slit. "You're already wet. I guess I don't need to prep you then."

You began trashing violently, trying to scream, to beg him to prep you first. He responded to your struggle by slapping your ass so hard all breath was knocked out of your lungs.

"Behave." His voice was dark.

You sobbed into the expensive leather couch. Your ass throbbed where he had hit you. It hurt so bad. He raised your head, forcing your body into a painful arch. You tried to get as much air into your lungs, trying to ignore the warm blood that trickled down your nose.

"Satoru please…." you cried, hating how miserable you sounded. "Please I'm sorry! Don't do this .. please…. I'll be… I'll be good I swear!"

You barely heard him undoing his belt by how much noise you made sobbing. He filled you up without any prior warning. He was huge and you were unprepared. Even though you were wet it took a lot of preparation to take his size. A scream ripped through your throat. You tried to form a coherent sentence but all you could form were gabbled words. Still you tried. You screamed for him to take it out, to be gentle. He either didn't understand you or just ignored you. He began thrusting into you at a bruising pace. Each time he hit your cervix it felt uncomfortable. You tried your best to imagine yourself somewhere else. Somewhere happy. But each harsh snap of his hips brought you back to your cruel reality.

"You feel good you know?" He grabbed your hair and raised your head whispering in your ear. "My own personal cock sleeve. So fucking perfect."

"Please!" You cried. "Please stop! It hurts! Please!"

He shushed you. "You deserve it. Take it like the fucking slut you are." He let your head drop, his hand moving to your hips, holding you perfectly in place as he bruised your insides. His other hand moved to your neck and squeezed, cutting off your air flow. Black dots were appearing on your vision. You desperately wished he'd just let you pass out. But he didn't. He lets up when you're about to faint, leaving you gasping and choking.

It hurt.

Your insides burned with the stretch he forced upon you. Your head pounded. Your throat was dry and painful from how much you'd screamed. It hurt. It hurt so much. You weeped into the couch, your skin starting to feel hot. You didn't want to feel good from this but that was near impossible. Gojo knew your body too well. And he was hitting the right spot inside you that made you see stars.

He would rub your pearl at a pace that contradicted that of his hips, so slow and gentle it was difficult to not feel good. At a point you couldn't tell if your cries were cries of pain or pleasure. Even when it became clear to him that you'd climaxed, he didn't stop. He continued to play your body like an instrument, lengthening the pleasure and setting your nerves on fire. When it began to feel really good he would grip your neck painfully hard. His nails would dig harder into your skin, he would hit you. The pain would make you cry even more but still you'd tighten around him.

"I knew something was wrong with you" he said, his body folded above yours, soft lips close to your ear. "You like this, don't you?"

"N…no…I…"

"Stop lying." It was so unfair how level his voice remained even though he was slamming you down on him. "I can feel how hard you're clenching around me. You're one crazy slut, you know that right? You're really sick in the head if you enjoy it this much. You're practically dripping right now."

He'd drive his point home by hitting your ass so hard your body lunged forward. Pitiful cries fell from your lips, fresh tears joining the dried ones on your cheeks.

"I knew it. You're just as fucked up. Tell me, did you think he could fuck you like this? Answer me!" He gripped your chin and turned your head so you met his gaze. You could barely recognize him with how crazed he looked.

"PL…please…" You didn't even know what you were begging for. Tears clouded your eyes.

He drove his hips harder into yours. You cried out, trying to crawl away from him and give your battered body a break. He let up his grip, giving you false hope that he was done with you, only to pull you back to meet his brutal thrusts.

"That's right. No one can make you feel this good." He leaned into your neck and bit the soft skin above your pulse, leaving a very visible mark. You whined with discomfort, your body going limp. "So now, be a good girl and take it."

By the time Gojo was done with you you were in an hyper stimulated state. You'd lost count of how many times he'd made you climax, how long you had to ignore the pain. The room around you barely even existed anymore. Everywhere hurt. Bite marks, bruises, hand prints, cuts where his fingernails dug into your skin littered your body. Your entire body trembled. Your throat felt hoarse with how much you had screamed. And your core felt like it was on fire. You didn't even have tears left anymore. You just wanted it to be over. In your muddled state of mind you wished he'd snapped your neck by mistake when he gripped too hard.

Gojo stared at your naked body, sweat covering your skin in a translucent second skin, his marks littering your body with bruises and he felt a sense of pride. Something about seeing you looking so small and broken made him want to protect you forever. To shield you from the outside world. Even covered in his marks and fluids, you looked demure. You were so beautiful, even though he didn't tell you that.

He ran a shower and gently washed your body. Everywhere hurt but somehow his hands soothed your skin. He prepared a soothing bath, scooped you up and placed you in the bathtub. He joined you, holding you as physically close as possible. He kissed your hair and told you how much he cared for you. And how this was all your fault. And he told you how you'll spend the rest of your days with him, how he'd arranged for your things to be moved in. That way you'd never leave. Ever. And no man would ever get to touch you again.

You barely even heard him, your ears still ringing from the amount of times you'd screamed and nearly had your brain fried with pleasure.

He turned your head and kissed the side of your mouth. His gaze was soft, almost loving. "My perfect doll," He said. "Made for me, all for me."

Turns out you still had a tear left in you. It fell from your eye, he flicked it away.

"Don't worry, you'll be safe with me."

You didn't have even the energy to move your arms. Yet you smiled at him, a tired smile. He kissed your temple.

"I love you." He whispered against your skin. He meant it. After all, you were covered in evidence of his love.

And you believed him.

#gojo satoru #jjk smut #one shot smut #angst #drabble #hurt/comfort #gojo is a menace #i wrote this so fast #unrequited affection #heartache #I need to bleach my eyes

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