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junisfics · 3 years

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The Worthy — Eren Jaeger (14)

Chapter Fourteen: Velveteen Rabbit

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Reader

Word Count: 16.1k

Series Summary: Reader is reaching a point in her relationship where sex is coming up in conversation. but she’s an inexperienced virgin. And who’s better to show her the ropes than her best friend Eren?

Chapter Summary: "You don’t know when it would happen, or how, but you knew that it would… and it would be with him." (The Worthy, Chapter Thirteen)

Content: Unestablished Relationship, Mutual Pining, Smut

Content Warnings: Hyper-Sexuality, Smut, (Virginity Loss, Corruption Kink, Protected Sex, Handjob, Nipple Play, Body Worship, Cunnilingus, Digital Penetration, Praise Kink, Size Kink, Slight Humiliation, Dirty Talk, Voice Kink)

Author's Note: Reminder that I've moved my blog to @juniverses and will be posting all future fics on there ! I will continue to post this series on this account for consistency.

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Eren had begun to lose count of how many times he had found you standing within his doorframe after he tugged it open in response to the rhythmic rapping of knuckles along the wood. It was time and time again, repetitive and tedious; he would have found it annoying if it was anyone other than you that was behind those knocks.

It happened so often, so regularly, that there was only one other time where he was startled by your arrival besides your very first show all those months ago, and it was that of your first show after his first witness of your first flashbacks—which you argued, weren’t flashbacks at all. So many firsts and so many new experiences that firsts and novelties began to grow expected when he found himself with you. Your firsts began to grow into his as well, because although he was years ahead of you in experience despite being the same age, these would be the first times he would experience something like this with someone like you.

You knock, gently, for the twelfth time in the three weeks that have passed since your first episode. It sounds the same as every other one you’ve done, having mastered the pattern and intensity after finally growing used to the sparking of your nerves whenever you show for him. You aren’t sure what you’ve come to him for this time, but then again, you’ve stopped the excuses and admit to yourself that just wanting to spend time with him is a good enough reason.

Eren doesn’t complain about your increasing desire for platonic time together, and he doesn’t grow bored of you after your visits grow less and less reliant on sexual advances, he’s over the moon for every passing second he gets to see you content in the purest of forms.

Being able to see his television screen flicker in the whites of your eyes as you intently watch whatever show has been put on makes his heart flutter in the most delightful of ways. Watching the corners of your mouth turn up as you shy away from his gaze after he shamelessly flirts with you sends warmth spreading through his veins. And getting to see you laugh until you can’t while the two of you horse around while playing board games makes the lack of sexual pleasure from another being all worthwhile. Eren’s grown tired of his fist, but not tired of you.

“Why am I not surprised to see you here?” He asks softly, a gentle smile teasing his lips as his eyes look over your figure.

Dressed in one of his shirts—the one that he gave you a week or so ago after you had a nasty spill of Chinese food over your own shirt during one of your movie marathons—and a pair of fleece sweatpants, Eren felt his heart swell in his chest. He’s learned over these weeks that the more casual your attire seemed to be, the more time you had planned to spend at his house. This was by far the most comfortable of clothes he had seen you in.

“Because I’ve been here three times within the past week, and this will be my fourth,” You explain to him as if he didn’t know the said information. You look him into the eyes as you speak, playful, unafraid.

“Hm… you have a point, get in here,” He says, grasping the side of the door and pushing it open further as he steps aside. You step into his home without hesitation, keeping your eyes on his pretty face as you do so. Eren closes the door behind you, locking it as you slip your shoes off, “Oh, I need your help picking out a cake for Armin.”

You snicker at the thought of Eren being the one chosen to look at the array of cakes waiting to be picked for the blonde boy’s birthday, then you settle and smile when you think about Armin’s face being lit up by twenty colorful candles that will sit atop the said cake.

“Annie’s in charge of the whole birthday operation. She assigned Mikasa and me to cake-picking and invitations,” Eren seems to have read your thoughts, “We’ve both procrastinated.”

Thankfully, procrastination explains why you haven’t received an invitation yet, which saves you from quite a bit of awkwardness. And you’re once again reminded of how many traits Eren and Mikasa do truly share from being raised under the same household; from blind impulsivity to simply putting things off for too long. Even for their best friend’s birthday, they can’t seem to get things done for their lives.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. ‘Min is turning twenty and Miks and I have both put off birthday prep, He continues, “Can’t blame us. We’ve all been a bit distracted lately.” He shoots you a flirty glance.

You fight back the urge to make a suggestive comment; only a bit wary of what would happen if you decided to rile him up; not because you were afraid of him, but you were afraid of yourself and what you would choose to do if Eren kept it up.

Many times throughout your weeks with Eren where you’ve come over to spend time in his home and in his presence, you’ve both gotten quite playful with each other. There were lingering glances, intimate touches, teasing words, and raising tensions, but nothing more than that. There was touching and kissing and desperation, but there wasn’t anything more—no plunging fingers or pumping hands, no licking tongues or suckling mouths. It was strange intimacy; consistent friendship with brief bursts of need and sexuality. Perhaps that is what friends-with-benefits is truly like, and the idea of more was terrifying but enticing.

“Twenty sounded so old when we were kids.” You finally say as you slide yourself into one of the counter stools that’s tucked beneath the breakfast bar of his kitchen counter. The granite is cool beneath your forearms as you rest them before you, settling in to watch Eren as he rounds the same counter to stand before you but on the other side.

He rests his phone flat, screen side up, on the counter that’s just a step below yours to be level with the sink. He leans into his palms that press flat on the surface, looking down to the screen that displays pictures of pretty pastries and dainty confectionaries upon a website named Trost’s Treats. Shamefully, you admit that the sweets aren’t the only desirable thing that sits before you. Eren’s hands, broad palms, long fingers, and arms littered with attractive veins and lean muscle, already begin to distract you.

“I’ll still pretend it sounds old just to be able to tease him for it for a few more months,” Eren looks up from his phone and to you, moving only his eyes. His hair, freed from the band that usually ties it out of his face, now falls before his eyes and leaves you with only slivers of jade that peek from behind the dark strands.

You scoff, rolling your eyes teasingly before leaning forward on your forearms to get a look at his screen. You can feel the presence of his head just in front of yours, and your eyes struggle to stay on the images below you as his hands remain flexed against the countertop; tendons and veins swelling under the pressure.

You slide an arm out from under your chest and turn the phone slightly to straighten the colorful pictures. Then, with a lone finger, you swipe along the screen to survey the album of potential cakes of choice.

“What kind of cake does he want?” You ask quietly, eyes following the screen as you scroll.

“I have no idea, but Armin seems like a red velvet kind of guy, if you ask me,” Eren says, following your lead and carefully inspecting every dessert that slides into his vision.

“Mhm. White frosting though, with blue lettering,” You add, pointing to a design that shows exactly what you described.

Each cake is different, sometimes drastically and sometimes only slightly. The one you point at is one with more basic lettering and decor; thin-lined cursive spelling out Happy ‘#’th’ Birthday ‘Name’ in delicate baby blue frosting in the center, and bordering the cake is the same shade of blue puffing around the edges and lining the sides.

It was pure and simple, celebratory in a manner that wasn’t flashy or phony; it was easy to picture Armin’s name and age replacing the stand-ins. Delicate, sophisticated, lovely—it was absolutely Armin.

“You’ve been visiting a lot lately,” Eren murmurs as he takes a light hold of his phone to capture a screenshot of the cake. Although the statement is obvious, it’s opened up a conversation that will be much less so.

He’s aware that you appreciate the time spent with him, which would be solid enough reasoning for your increase in visits, but he suspects that something else lurks in your intentions. It isn’t negative or malicious, but rather desperate and dependent. To Eren, it seemed like you weren’t only wanting this time with him, but needing it as well. You craved his attention in a way that was getting far too similar to that of addiction; but who wouldn’t be addicted to a love like his? Who could blame you?

“Are you complaining?” You save yourself with the question. Eren’s statement wasn’t necessarily an inquiry, but you didn’t have the energy to continue on that path of conversation. You couldn’t tell him that you were using him to distract yourself, because you weren’t yet aware of that fact yourself. You refuse to admit that your need for companionship wasn’t only rooted in your admiration for him.

“Always,” Eren chuckles, “If you keep showing up to my house to steal my food and use my Hulu account I’m going to switch units with Mrs. Yahontov from next door just to confuse you.”

“What, so every time I come over wanting to sweet talk you, you want me to be met with the half-naked old woman who only speaks Russian?” You cross your arms back under you and lift your head to see Eren grinning as he scrolls through cakes.

“You come over to sweet talk me?” He raises an eyebrow and lowers his voice to a near purr.

“Depends,” You shrug, “Is it working?”

Eren looks up to you then, hair in his face and cheeks flushed pink. He’s flustered but remains collected as he leans towards you until your noses brush and you’re both glancing down to each other’s lips. You hold your breath, stomach swooping and fists tightening as you watch Eren run his tongue along his bottom lip. He floods your senses; his cologne meeting your nose and his breath tickling your lips.

“Always,” He repeats before pulling away; leaving you with your body leaning over the counter in anticipation. He shocks himself by returning to his task with such an impressive mask of composure despite his heart thrumming against his ribs and blood pounding in his ears.

So soon into your visit, Eren has made the bold choice to tease you, and his bravado has flushed your neck and face hot and sent warmth swimming throughout your stomach. Days like these were few but effective; days when he chose first thing in the morning that he was going to be a little shit and put you on edge. These days were always the ones that led to an escalation of touch, for his choice to tease was encouragement for you to do the same.

He was testing the waters, seeing how far you would push yourself before you grew uncomfortable. You appreciated it because although this testing went unspoken between you two, it allowed you to gauge yourself just like he did. It was just like the beginning, doing things you were comfortable with with the occasional push for more, you were just waiting for that push this time; waiting for the push—whether long-term or short-term—that told you that you need more. Something was going to happen, more was going to happen and you know it. It was in the air, thick and heavy, you could both feel it.

You settle back into your seat, “You’re in a mood today,” Push. You decide to encourage him. You flirt back; testing the waters, dipping your toes into his ocean.

Eren laughs through his nose and shakes his head ever so slightly. It wasn’t harsh enough to be considered a scoff but rests just under the requirements. It was a laugh of disbelief; he wasn’t too sure what to say. The laugh was buying him time to settle his fluster and realize that you were wanting to play. His heart flutters, not only because you’ve grown aware of his playing, but because you’re acknowledging it and playing along as well. When his games aren’t one-sided, where you’re playing and playing to win, that’s his favorite part.

Low in his stomach, thick and heavy, arousal begins to swim. It tickles beneath his waistband and dances up his abdomen until his throat tightens and he’s swallowing down saliva.

“What makes you think that?” He asks when he finally finds his words.

It’s your turn to fumble, for you haven’t thought ahead enough to formulate a response to that possible question. You only meant to acknowledge his behavior, not directly speak of it.

“You’re flirting with me,” You felt like you were breaking the unsaid wall. Addressing it head-on was a rush; would he admit to his doings, or would he bottle it back up to tease a bit more? When the flirting went unsaid, encouraged but not confronted, it was easier. It was so much easier to just do it rather than asking yourself why.

He wants to tell you I flirt with you every day, this isn’t a “mood” but he can’t seem to find his voice.

Eren reaches for his phone until his palm covers the screen, and then clicks it off. He removes his hand to press it back against the counter with the other, leveraging his body on the granite as he leans over it, and looks down to the black mirror for a moment before picking his head up. He doesn’t say a word when your eyes meet, only raises his brows in question like he wasn’t sure what you were getting at.

You know better than to let him get away with faux-confusion, “‘caught red-handed and now you’re quiet, hm?” You grip the edge of the bar as you slide yourself out of your chair and to your feet.

Eren straightens himself out a bit, almost like he’s backing up from you, and turns to the side to face you straight-on as you round the corner and approach him. His right hand still holds onto the granite, gripping the edge a little too tight to seem comfortable; it squeezes a bit tighter once you come towards him, resting your left hand on the counter to mirror him as you both face each other.

He looks down to you, biting his inner cheek to conceal a smirk. He still stands strong, intimidating; a broad chest and a tall figure. If it wasn’t for the flush across his complexion that poured down his face until it disappears down his neckline, you could’ve believed he was unaffected by your opposition. And that blush you see is the only thing keeping you from shrinking before him.

Eren could almost say the same for you. If it wasn’t for your shaky hands or tight chest, he would’ve found himself a lot more nervous than he truly was. He finds comfort in knowing that you’re both on edge; that even though his body is twitching and sparking and there's this tightness in his throat that makes him want to scream, that you’re feeling just the same way.

Oh, how wonderful it is to be so affected by another’s presence; to be so hopelessly in love with someone that their every action strings you up no matter how comfortable you may be with them. It’s insane. With Eren, you know nothing but peace, but you know nothing but stimulation. It was so consistent, it was so exciting. You knew when he would make a move, but you never knew what the move would be.

“‘m just trying to think of what to say,” He admits, ducking his head away from your eye contact and laughing softly, “You make me nervous…”

You tilt your head slightly to the side, like dogs do when they’re baby-talked, and blink a few times as you process his words.

It was safe to say that you were aware of your effect on him, whether it was physical or mental, but hearing it out loud is different; similar to how addressing his flirtatious behavior was different than simply acknowledging it.

“I make you nervous?” You question, trying to maintain the coy tilt in your voice, but it simmers and is overpowered by genuine wonder.

“God, yes. Are you kidding me?” He breathes, laughing softly; relieved to get it out. His head is lifted once more and his body seems to relax despite the increase of pink that spreads across the highs of his face. “I’m like—I’m literally shaking right now.”

Eren removes his right hand from the counter and lifts it up to where his palm is down to the floor and his hand is held between the two of you; and yes, it’s shaking ever so slightly. His fingers twitch and his arm trembles like the weight of it is almost too much to hold up.

Your body warms and you can feel your own limbs growing heavy in their sockets. You want to reach out and touch him, feel his body vibrating beneath your fingertips, but he retracts his hand just as fast as he flung it up like he doesn’t want you looking too close. It was possibly the cutest thing you think you’ve ever seen. You don’t want to get too confident, but seeing Eren get all sweet and blushy filled you with a different sort of pride.

“Why?” You ask, wanting to hear an answer both to know it and for it to boost your ego.

“God,” He laughs, looking to the floor and brushing his hair out of his face, “You don’t even know what you do to me, do you?”

He pulls himself away from the counter’s ledge, hoping you don’t notice how weak his legs have grown in mere moments of coquettish banter. He watches you carefully as he steps before you, taking in your every morphing expression and change in body language so he doesn’t push his limits. When he sees that you turn to face him—with your back to the ledge and your body between his and the counter—he safely assumes that he’s okay to continue. Eren gives you another few passing seconds, last moments to escape into the space that’s left on either side of you that would prevent yourself from being trapped within his arms, then he steps closer; tips of your toes almost touching, faces only breadths away.

“What do I do?” You ask quietly. Your pretty eyes are all wide, glossed over and hazy with arousal from the proximity, and your perfect lips are slicked with your saliva; for you’ve licked and bitten them raw from anticipation.

Eren leans forward, reaching to either side of you to grab the ledge, and properly traps you within his arms. His eyes are heavy, full of desire, and he closes them slowly, too weak to look at you much longer without losing himself. You do the same, tilting your face up, waiting.

“You fuck me up,” He murmurs, inching forward, purposefully nudging your nose with the tip of his.

You wanted the answer for another soar of your pride, a want to have your confidence bumped up another notch, but the answer made you feel small. It had you backing into the edge of the counter and gripping the ledge like it was your anchor to Earth. Your heart thuds and thuds and thuds and you swear there’s so much cotton in your head that your brain’s been replaced with it.

“Yeah?” You say so softly, with such a need in your voice that it comes off as a moan to the boy in front of you. His cock throbs—hard already, leaking and needy. The slightest traces of a moan in your throat is what tells him that this teasing is no longer innocent; it tells him that you’re ready for a push.

“Mhm,” He nods, his hair tickling your face, the scent of his shampoo filling your lungs; coconut, sage.

You only know that his right hand is moving by the way his forearm brushes yours, and then he's wrapping his fingers around your wrist, holding it delicately as he pulls it from your side and between the two of you. And then he’s interlacing his fingers with yours, but his palm is warm against the back of your hand and his fingers don’t weave themselves all the way inward. He’s moving his hand again, pulling it towards him, pulling it down; and you’re met with fabric, soft fabric, but what lies beneath is hard.

Not even a second passes before you realize what he’s having you feel, because it throbs beneath your hand the moment you touch, twitches against your fingers almost immediately. The sensation of his dick, almost fully hard after only the tamest of flirting, draws a soft whimper from deep in your chest.

“‘you feel that?” He murmurs; there’s no more tease in his voice. His words fanning over the bridge of your nose, fluttering your eyelashes as they remain rested against the tops of your cheeks.

You nod quickly, daring to squeeze the length of him softly, “You’re so hard,” You whisper when your fingers are met with the resistance of him.

“That’s what you do to me.” Eren breathes, but it’s uneasy and strained. His abdomen flexes in tension, and his stomach fizzes and sparks where his groin meets his waistline. He can feel himself growing painfully hard beneath your hand, and your gentle palming—now unaided by his own hand—is only aggravating the problem over relieving it.

You’re weak, you’re so weak; it’s like your knees are made of rubber bands and your arms are made of television static. You can barely feel his dick beneath your fingertips, but it’s also the only thing you can feel—firm, warm, thick, long. You’ve felt him before, touched him before, seen him before, but this differed. Your heart was beating faster, body burning hotter, insides churning harder.

The cage his body has built around you—his limbs, the metal bars; his heart, the lock—was so brilliantly suffocating. For without the presence of his enclosure, you would have never known freedom from it. You weren’t locked inside, because although there was a lock chained to his heart, you owned the key. It was a willing entrapment, the fear of freedom far too great for you to be able to bear leaving. So, for now, you wait within your cage that you’ve locked yourself in; tranquil, oblivious, safe.

His arm has returned to the counter, gripping it harder than before, and his hips tilt slightly into your touch as your nails scratch at the skin of his lower stomach in search of the waistband. You keep your eyes shut as your hand searches, afraid you’ll crumble to the floor if you were met with the sight of his flushed face. He hisses as your other hand releases from your side to grasp at the elastic as well, cold fingers brushing against his sweltering skin.

Your hands hesitate, fingers curled around the band of his sweatpants, and remain there as you pitch your face higher to his. You weren’t looking for a kiss, but you received one the moment your lips touched his. He couldn’t resist. Your breath is stolen away, and your fingers involuntarily slip deeper beneath his pants in time with a soft moan escaping your lips and being swallowed by his.

He pulls away after a moment, eyes still closed, and you take the fleeting moment to speak, “Can I—can we try again?” You speak breathily.

Eren’s stomach drops; drops deep to his groin and explodes like fruit dropping onto concrete pavement. If you were asking him what he thought you were, you were going to positively ruin him. He clenches his jaw to fight back a rasped moan, but it still escapes in the form of a sharp exhale. His hips jerk and push forward, rutting into nothing but air.

He swallows hard, “Yeah,” He nods, “Yeah. You lead, okay?”

You murmur a soft, “Okay,” before leaning forward and pressing your mouth to his. Your right hand dips further into his sweats while your left remains latched to his waistband. You struggle only slightly, unable to get your wrist past the resistance of the elastic band due to his height, and have to pull down with your left and rise onto your toes to slide it deeper. Your fingers tickle at the soft fabric of his briefs, not yet breaching to the intimate skin beneath them, as you feel around for the hardness that was just pressed into your palm.

Eren’s arms tremble against the counter when he feels you grasp his length at the same time your tongue slips into his mouth. Your taste invades his tongue, sweet like honey, the nectar of arousal dripping from your saliva. Your hand, gentle, curious, caresses the underside of him with confidence. It wasn’t so much the sensation of your attentive hand that had the coil in his stomach tightening, but rather how headstrong you are; with your willing touch and wanting voice.

Perhaps the faintest bit of pride rolled its way through Eren when he realized that you encouraged that final push forward. All these weeks of repeating that one word over and over again—communication, communication, communication—and you’ve finally gotten it ingrained in your subconscious; doing it without having to be told. He was so proud of his good girl.

“‘wanna jerk you off…” You admit to his lips. He twitches under your fingertips eagerly, answering a question you didn’t have to ask.

“Do it,” He whispers, tilting his hips once more into your hand in time with a chaste kiss.

You take his response and put it into the actions of your hands, palming him with purpose and taking every throb and pulse as encouragement. Every time the tips of your fingers brush over his frenulum, Eren shivers. You can feel his body quiver, his hips tighten, and his lips would soften against yours to the point where you’re convinced he’s lost his ability to kiss you back. He was sensitive.

He inhales sharply through his nose as your hand releases him then finally dips beneath the final layer of fabric. Both of you moan softly into each other’s mouths at the sensation. Your fingers curl around his girth, fingers met with soft skin that contrasts the hardness beneath it, and he was absolutely on fire. His cock was burning with arousal, leaking equally as hot of precum that drips down to your fingers as you hold him.

Your wrist catches on the waistband again, tugging it down with you as your hand dives deeper in search of the base of him. You let out a huff of frustration into Eren’s mouth before pulling away from him to glance down to where your hand is shoved down his pants, adamant about adjusting the waistband for a better grip.

Eren takes notice of your struggle and pulls his hands off the counter to help, “Push it down. Down, get it down,” He mutters, both hands pushing down where the fabric rests on his hips while you tug with your left where your right wrist rests.

It’s slid down to the tops of his thighs. The delicate bones of his hips and the deep divots of his Adonis belt are exposed for the brief moment where his shirt doesn’t fall over them. Your now free left-hand reaches for the draping shirt, pushing it up his stomach desperately to try and keep him exposed to you. He aids you, using a hand to hold it up for you so you can return to the more important task at hand.

With his hands holding up his shirt and returning back to the counter, yours wrapped around his cock and the other resting against his stomach, and his sweatpants now secured beneath his hips, you begin to slowly pump your hand around the length of him. Eren watches carefully, jaw slacked and eyelids heavy, eyes following your lithe fingers as they grip him tight enough to draw breathy moans from his throat.

You can feel every tensing of his abdominals, the way the lean muscle hardens beneath your fingertips as you rest a hand on his navel. And Christ, his dick; seeing it held between your fingers, blushed a pretty red, littered with enticing veins, and slicked with the precum that’s leaked from him, has your own body responding involuntarily. Your insides are warm and gooey, and they flutter and tighten in sync with the twitching of him. Your heart aches with need, and your entire being craves him.

“Fuck me,” Eren mutters as your thumb swipes over his tip. He couldn’t stop it from escaping his lips. Your body resting so close to his, pretty hands that wrap around his cock, and the energy that leaks from your body—positive, intoxicating, beautiful—they all engulf him. Your touch was different from when you had first taken hold of him; then, it was unknowing, unaware of its power, but now you’re determined, filled with intent, conscious of your effect on him. It drove him insane.

His voice travels straight south, running quickly through your veins and ending in a throb of your insides. That, and the pulsing of his cock that follows, has your knees buckling and your hold around him weakening. The nails of your opposite hand dig into the fragile flesh of his navel for support, but only draws a sharp hiss from his lips.

Your willingness and enthusiasm towards pleasuring him were some of his favorite traits that he’s been exposed to within your experimenting. Knowing that you receive gratification from the stimulation you were providing him had his entire body on edge. Sure, it got him off when he got you off, but knowing that it went both ways was intoxicating.

“Gimme a kiss,” He murmurs, lifting his right hand from the counter and taking a gentle hold of your jaw before you even get the chance to register his words. You whine against his lips, and your hand has even more trouble keeping a steady rhythm, but you kiss him back despite it.

You’ve always been good at multitasking, but trying to do so when the tasks were split between kissing him, jerking his cock, and trying to stop your knees from buckling, was so much harder. You struggle to kiss him back, your hand jerks unsteadily, and your legs tremble beneath you, and although you weren’t the one being touched, it was far too much to handle. But even though you were at your wit’s end, you were okay. Your hand around him never brought you to panic, the feeling of his body so close to yours never drew out flashbacks, and the pairing of the two together never led to a need to stop.

Despite your struggling and mediocracy, Eren still whispers, “‘doing so good for me,” in between the taking of your lips in his. Your body shakes in response to his words; only reminding him that your sensitivity doesn’t stop for his voice.

His hand still grips your jaw softly, having complete control over your ability to pull away from his lips, but even if you did have control, you wouldn’t choose to break the kiss for the life of you. But Eren chooses to break it once more, “‘m gonna fuck your hand, okay?”

He releases his hold on your face and moves it down to your wrist, and he wraps his fingers around it just like you had with his cock. He holds you still, halting your pumping with his firm grip, then looks up from between your bodies and to your eyes.

“Please,” You whisper, eyes switching from his hold on you and then back to his eyes.

Slowly, his hips tilt forward into your hand. He holds the wrist still and allows his cock to fuck itself through the hole of your fingers and palm. Immediately, a soft moan escapes your lips at the feeling of him using you. It was overwhelming. The quiet grunts he makes with every stroke, the look on his face as he watches how your hold is forced to expand as he enters your fist, the straining of his forearm as he holds himself back from digging his blunt nails into your wrist; it was insane.

“Eren, I—can’t,” You choke out, far too overwhelmed from both the lack of stimulation as well as the excess.

He was only a few pumps in when he stopped himself, hips stuttering as he held back from another one. Your words cause a wave of concern to flow through his body, and he asks, “Are you okay?”

Your hand loosens around him, wrist falling limp in his grasp. His own hold loosens while you take a moment to regroup, “Yes, yeah. ‘just really… really turned on.”

Although your words comfort his anxiety, they do nothing to calm the stammering of his heart. Your hand has released him, but he still throbs upwards against your knuckles at the revelation that you weren’t protesting due to distress, but you were protesting because you needed more.

His hands move to quickly pull up his sweatpants, and he doesn’t bother to untuck his shirt from where it’s been caught beneath the waistband before he’s gripping your waist, kissing you roughly, and guiding you from the counter and towards his bedroom. Your hands find his tee-shirt and grip the fabric tightly to pull him closer.

It’s confirmation, you need more, you need him, and he’s more than willing to give that to you.

“Can I take care of you?” He asks in between kisses.

You hold on to him tighter as you’re stumbled backward, gripping onto him and his shirt like a support line. You know you won’t trip or fall as he continues to guide you back, his hold on your body is too steady and too firm for that to happen, but you still find security in holding him.

“Yes, and don’t stop.” You answer breathlessly.

So he doesn’t. Eren leads you to his door, pushing it open with a heavy hand, steps you through, and steers you towards his bed. It’s a mess of stumbling feet, discarded shoes, and grabbing hands.

The trip to his mattress was rough, desperate, and frantic, but the journey down to it was careful and tender; like a parent laying a child to bed after they fell asleep on the drive home.

He gives you a soft kiss before cupping the back of your neck and cradling the small of your back. The weight of his body gently forces a bend in your knees that lets him guide you down to the mattress. Once you lay, his hand at your back drives you further up the bed while his other hand plants beside your head.

The moment you’re steady, he hovers over you, bodyweight supported by his knees. Still free from the confines of a tie, his pretty chestnut hair curtains around his face and the ends tickle your cheeks. Your hands reach out for him, feeling over his chest and shoulders until they rest on either side of his neck, and your legs tease at his sides as you search for more.

“How are you?” He asks softly, shifting his weight to one hand to hold your face with the other. His eyes are swimming with desire, but they’re careful as they search your face.

“I’m good, really good,” You answer, cradling his cheek to mirror his touch to yours.

His lips quirk into a gentle smile, his thumb circles the soft skin of your cheek, “Tell me if you’re not, okay?”

You nod, matching his expression, “I promise,” and then your hands slip back to the back of his neck and tug him down to you. Eren falls to his forearms, body brushing against yours, and he kisses you.

It’s gentle, it’s always gentle with him, but this seemed so much more so. Your faces weren’t smushed together, your teeth weren’t clanking and your lips weren’t getting bitten; it was soft, attentive. Lips moved slowly, tongues dipped tenderly, and the only other place where your faces touched was the softest brushes of your noses when he would tilt his head to the other side.

Although his lips were mild and his tongue was pacific, he still hit you like a train. Matching his patient behavior was far from easy; you wanted to kiss him harder, pull him closer, and move a whole lot faster, and he wouldn’t let you. Every time you lift your head to try and draw him deeper, he pulls away in the slightest to keep the distance, and every dig of your nails into his shoulders that tried to encourage his body flush was fought with tensing muscle and resisting arms.

He didn’t want this slow, he wanted you to have it slow. Eren didn’t care how desperate your lips and hands were, he wasn’t going to let you rush yourself. And on top of that, he didn’t want you to rush him. He was going to take his time with you. He was going to turn you to mush, work you open, and have you melt around him all over again, and he wasn’t going to be quick with it. He wanted it to last.

Eren gives you a final kiss to your lips before kissing the corner of your mouth and then making his way farther down. His lips and tongue kiss at either side of your jaw before returning to your lips, then they dip beneath it to tease at the thin skin of your neck. His mouth is hot, wet, perfect as he licks and nips and sucks along your throat and down to your collar. And his hands are so wonderfully big and strong as they run over your sides and tilt your head to give him more space.

You’re falling apart all the while. Every hot lap of his tongue against your skin had your body squirming and your fingers weaving their way into his hair. Your back bowed and stomach pressed against his so hard that you felt the dips of his abdominals against you as you desperately fought for more friction. And when you weren’t arching your back to the wet of his mouth, you were jerking your hips in search of his in response to his teeth pinching at your skin. When you did get that friction against your cunt, that sweet sweet friction that sends sparks through your whole being, you could feel him thick and hard as he’s pressed between your legs, and you could hear him, deep groans and gasps as his mouth drops from your neck.

When his right-hand slips beneath your shirt to tease at the soft skin of your waist, Eren pulls away from you again, “‘this okay?”

“Yeah,” You smile, sitting up and grabbing the hem to aid him in tugging it over your head. It’s tossed to the floor quickly.

Eren before you, sitting upon his knees, too distracted by the discarded shirt to see your hands begin to reach for him. What draws him back is the feeling of your own fingers teasing at the fabric of his own shirt, brushing against his abdomen as you look up to him with your pupils blown wide.

You’re still sitting before him as he kneels on the bed; you’re sitting completely upright but still sitting. You haven’t seemed to notice the potentially troubling positioning, but Eren has, and he’s reaching down to your sides to pull you up to him before you can even get the chance to. Once you’re balanced on your knees and shins, he releases you to pull off his own shirt, mussing up his hair in the process. He barely gets the chance to get it out of his face before you’re doing it for him and kissing him again.

The feeling of skin on skin as your bodies connect draws a pathetic moan from both of your mouths. Your flesh is burning, sticky with sweat, but smooth beneath each other's palms as you feel over the other, trying to take everything in all at once.

Eren’s fingers dig into the softness of your waist, pulling you flush against him until you’re forced to back up your head so your noses don’t knock together, and your hands feel over the lovely muscles of his chest, arms, and shoulders. Your insides were aching, your mind was fuzzy, and you felt like you would die if you didn’t get more from him soon, but everything about being there with him made you want to stay there forever.

In the comfort of his home, in his room, with the blinds closed and the only light coming from a dimmed lamp in the corner, you kneel with him on his mattress. You and him alone, content in each other’s company. ‘Intimate’ is the only word you could come up with that perfectly describes the shared moment. Because with your bare bodies caressing each other as you find solace in each other’s hearts, there was nothing else that made as much sense as the word ‘intimate’.

“Lay down for me,” He says quietly, “‘wanna play with your tits,” his voice breaks into a soft laugh as he aids you in laying back again. You look away from him and try to hide your face as your lips split into a smile at his words.

He remains on his knees as you lift your body slightly to reach and unclasp your bra, and once the straps go limp on your shoulders, he leans over your body and slowly tugs them down. With a hand beside your head, his other hands’ fingers gently brush along your shoulders, tugging the straps with them until they fall to your biceps. He repeats the same on the other side until you sit up and finish the work for him; once you lay back down, he freezes.

Sitting back on his calves, with your thighs resting atop his and your body on display before him, Eren feels a wave of warmth flush over his entire body. He knows his cheeks are turning red, along with his neck and chest, and he hopes you don’t notice his cock growing impossibly harder in his pants. He wants to take a picture; not one for his phone that he keeps tucked away in a private folder, but one that would be taken on a nice camera that would catch every little detail of your body. And then, after that pretty picture would be taken of your pretty body, he would print it out and keep it safe for when he wants to savor your beauty for a time you’re not around.

Eren couldn’t stop his hands from reaching out to touch you; he needed confirmation that this was real, that you were really there in front of him. Starting with your hips, his palms feel over your body. He tucks every little detail, every curve and rise and fall of your body, into the back of his mind for safekeeping. He lets his hands slide up and over where your rib cage must rest beneath the soft of your skin, shivering when your body arches into his touch and the quietest of whines reaches his ears. Your skin breaks out into goosebumps at the sensation of his hands gliding so softly over your skin, and you grab onto his knees for support. He feels over you like a potter does with the soft clay atop their wheel, molding you to his hands, leaving an invisible mark upon your body.

“God, look at you,” He murmurs, eyes flitting over the swell of your breasts and the peaks of your nipples, over your swollen lips and lust-blown eyes. He thinks he’s in heaven. “You’re a dream.”

Heat pools in your face and between your thighs as you grow shy beneath his gaze. “Eren,” You warn, turning away from him.

“What?” He asks, releasing your sides and sliding his arms under yours as he leans over you, “You’re so beautiful.” And then he ducks his head low, settling himself before your chest, and licks softly at your right nipple.

It draws an immediate gasp from your sensitive body, and your hips jerk up into his stomach; he’s much too low on your body for your hips to align with his. Your hands find the sheets and the fabric is fisted into your fingers as he drags his tongue, slow and wet, over your skin.

Still resting on his elbows, he shifts his body further down until he can grab at your upper sides and lift your breasts ever so slightly up to his face. Then, his left arm slides beneath your body, just at your upper back to keep your chest raised for him, while his right hand comes to tease your other breast. His mouth is hot, lips so soft, and tongue dangerous as he tastes the soft skin.

Every little lap and nip at the swell of your chest has more heat flooding to your cunt and grinding of your hips into the muscles of his abdomen. Your hands lace into his hair, pushing it out of his face as you look to where your flesh is sucked into his mouth. Your jaw slacks.

His pretty face is flushed red, and his eyes have fluttered closed as he gets lost in the feeling of your tits in his face and in his hands. His tongue works eagerly, flicking over your nipple while his free hand tweaks at the other. Your skin was slicked and wet with saliva, raised into goosebumps from the cold air he would blow onto it after a hot lick. It was an intoxicating sight, one that you would keep in your conscious forever to use whenever you needed him most.

“Eren, please,” You beg, although unknowing of what you’re asking for.

His mouth releases from your chest as his eyes open, looking up to you with wide pupils, “What do you need?”

You choke on your words, having to swallow your own spit as you try to find what to say, “Just… more,”

His lips tilt into a smile, and he pulls his arm out from under your body so he can loom over you. He knew what he was doing; looking down to you with his eyes full of desire, lips glossed with saliva, hair messed from your hands. It was bound to drag a reaction out of you. And a reaction it did.

Your hips are now in line with his, and you cant upwards subconsciously due to his gaze, and you’re met with the hard of his cock pressing right into where you need it the most. Even through his briefs, his sweats, your sweats, your panties—four layers—you still feel the twitch of him against your cunt as you do so. And you gasp in response.

“Tell me,” He says, looking into your eyes. But he seems to know what you want, for he grinds himself into the soft of your cunt, pressing the length of his cock right against your clit.

“Oh shit, Eren,” Your eyes roll back and you feel yourself melt into the mattress, hips coming back down shakily as the pleasure overwhelms your body and you’re unable to hold yourself against him any longer. He was so hard. He was so fucking hard that you could feel every throb of him against you.

You try to tell him, you try to make yourself clear, but it comes out sounding pathetic; broken apart with gasps and moans, “‘want—oh gosh—I want you… want you inside me.”

Eren brings his head low, leaning down until his lips are teasing yours featherlight, “‘want me to fuck you?”

You whine, twitching beneath his body, “Oh my God, yeah—yes, yes please,” You squirm beneath his body, your hands grasping aimlessly at his back and shoulders, lips searching for him in your little fight for him.

Eren resists his urge to tease you further, resists the overwhelming desire to call you a needy little thing, and decides to kiss you softly to tide you over. You melt immediately, like his lips were an antidote to your poisoned body, and moan softly against his lips. Eren laughs against you before pulling away, “I need to get you ready first, okay?” You nod quickly, and he smiles at your enthusiasm.

He gives you another small peck to the lips before he kisses down your neck, nipping occasionally to feel your body twitch against his, licking through the valley of your breasts, biting at the soft skin of your stomach, teasing the line of your sweatpants with his tongue, and eventually pulling the waistband down to your thighs and sliding them off your legs.

You break into a laugh as you’re pulled to the edge of the bed, his hands wrapping around your ankles and dragging you along the soft sheets until your legs dangle off the side. His nimble fingers slip off your socks and he’s knelt before you, with your left ankle still within his hold. You gasp softly when you feel his breath whisp along the inside of it. You jerk up to rest upon your elbows, watching him carefully as he brings his lips to the flat bone on the interior, kissing the fragile skin softly. It has your stomach turning in on itself and heat spreading over your entire body.

The sensation was almost foreign, similar to when he chose to tease at your calf all those weeks ago, but it was also wonderful. Each press of his lips and bite of his teeth as he makes his way up your legs has your heart stopping again and again. You would dare to consider it too intimate; blurring the line where sex turns into making love. But it still had your heart softening, had your throat closing in as you’re flooded with such a wonderful emotion, and had your body reacting in signs of arousal.

You whine when he grips the backs of your knees and pushes your thighs to your chest. The pressure forces you off your elbows and back to the mattress. and Eren’s now lifted himself back to standing on his knees to bring his face over your still clothed cunt. Although your panties still provide a layer of security between you and his eyes, you still feel yourself shrinking in at the humiliating positioning.

“You’re so pretty like this,” He says quietly, but he doesn’t seem to be talking to you directly; his eyes still locked onto the pretty mound between your legs, the enticing slick that’s begun to leak through, and the way he swears he can see your clit through the thin fabric of your undergarments. “Keep your legs spread for me, okay?”

In spite of your embarrassment, you nod. Your hand replaces his on the back of your knee as he removes his right to bring it down between your thighs, his left still forcing your thigh to your chest. With his hand resting against the back of your thigh, his thumb finds its way to your clit and presses softly. Your body twitches, hips jerking against his hand, legs trembling in the air, and your free hand clasps over your mouth. He teases softly, rubbing gentle circles against you through your panties, watching the way your soft pussy gives under the pressure of his thumb.

“‘you okay?” His question is genuine, and he brings his eyes up to your face.

Your hand is still over your mouth, eyes squeezed shut, but the moment you register his voice you find yourself removing your palm and looking at him. The sight completely wrecks you. So prettily, he kneels before you, with his long hair framing his face, strong arms toying with your body, and his hips grinding against the side of the bed.

“Yeah—shit—yeah,” You breathe, lips cracking into a smile as you let your eyes flutter shut and your head fall back into the mattress.

Eren takes your answer as permission to bring his eyes back to your cunt, his thumb never stopping its sensual circling. His other hand releases your leg to join his thumb, and you obediently keep yourself open for him. He adjusts his right hand, his palm splaying over your navel to give his knuckles room to drag across your clothed slit. You shake at the stimulation, whining out his name as he drags the backs of his fingers along the slick of your panties, still playing with your clit with the other.

It’s almost like he was inspecting you. Despite the fact that he knew your body far better than you did, he was still learning, still trying to see which actions drew what noises from your lips. He was adding to his arsenal, stocking up on ammunition, pitting your pleasure against you for his victory of bringing you to the hardest orgasm he possibly can.

He removes both hands from your pussy, the left going to grip the back of your thigh while the right comes to hook under the hem of your panties and tug them aside. He groans when he’s met with the sight of your pussy all slicked up, glistening with arousal that strings from your skin to the fabric he pulls from it. He only hesitates to take a mental picture, capturing the sight of you on display, and then he brings his face down and drags his tongue through you.

You inhale sharply at the sensation. His tongue that was so hot and so wet as it dragged over your body feels ten times more so as it dips inside you and licks over your cunt. You let out the shakiest and most pathetic moan you believe has ever come out of your mouth as you feel him fuck his tongue inside you, and he groans against your body as he feels your pussy squeeze around his tongue and leak onto his tastebuds. He’ll never get over the taste of you.

His hair tickles at your skin as he drinks you down, and his hand grips your thigh with such frenzy that the fat of it gives under the pressure of his fingers. He’s pulling your panties aside so hard that for a moment he swears he hears the popping sound of stitches being ripped, but that doesn’t matter for long because he’s quickly tugging them down your legs to leave you completely nude.

“You too,” You say softly, eyeing his sweatpants that still hang on his hips, wanting them off.

He looks up to you cautiously. No words were spoken, but you knew exactly what he was saying.

“I’m sure,” You smile softly, nodding alongside your answer for emphasis.

Eren’s stomach drops straight into his cock, and for a second he’s afraid he’s going to cum from the anticipation alone. If this meant what he thinks it meant—of course, this means what you think it does, Eren. What the fuck—he was going to lose his fucking mind. He is losing his fucking mind. And just when he reminds himself to calm down, because you’ll be able to sense his excitement and he doesn’t want to freak you out during your first time, he loses himself once more because holy fuck it’s your first time.

His legs are weak as he stands, and he prays you don’t see the way they shake under his weight. He opts to leave his briefs on out of caution to overwhelming you and only hooks his fingers under the elastic band of his sweatpants. He shoves the fabric down to his knees before stepping out of them, using his heel to slip the remainder off his ankles. You’re blessed with the sight of him almost fully bare and fully vulnerable; strong yet lean legs that are toned from years of sports, beautiful thighs that you find yourself wanting to cover in dark bruises, and such frightening yet enticing muscles of his lower abdomen that shape themselves into a pretty V and point you towards the thick bulge between his legs.

Gosh, it was almost scary. Even though you’ve seen it before, had it in your hands, had it in your mouth, even though it’s hidden behind the dark fabric of his boxer-briefs, it still fucking stares you down and threatens to ruin you; terrorizing you by straining and throbbing against the nylon that covers it. But even as it promises to split you in half, your mouth waters, and you’re forced to swallow down your saliva.

You’re pulled out of your head by his hands gripping the backs of your thighs and shoving them against your chest once more. His mouth closes over you and works to devour you, sucking and licking at the fat of your pussy and the nub of your clit. It’s all tongue and lips, all sloppy and wet as he enthusiastically makes out with the most intimate parts of you.

His tongue will dip inside you and taste at the walls of your cunt before dragging your own slick through you and up to your clit where it’ll then flick over it with intense precision. He has you crying out his name, choking out choppy moans, gripping the sheets, and tugging at his hair until your knuckles ache and your arms tremble. Your hips fuck upwards to try and take his tongue deeper and your thighs push down into the muscle of his shoulders as your legs twitch and jerk with every lick.

“‘so fucking wet,” He murmurs against your wet skin before taking another taste of you. He pushes against the back of your knees, lifting your backside off the mattress and folding you under yourself to give him room to shove his tongue inside you as deep as he can.

“G-God Eren, you’re—fuck—you’re so good,” You whine, shakily petting at the hair atop his head in weak encouragement. You feel him groan rather than hear him; the vibrations humming through you and buzzing at your clit, tugging another moan from your throat.

Eren dies a little inside when your voice is cut off as you feel the sensation of one of his long fingers sliding inside you. Your cries get caught in your throat and you go completely mute as you’re filled in just the slightest.

Eren clenches his jaw to stifle a groan for every time your soft and tight little cunt squeezes around the length of his finger. Every ridge and divot inside you has his head swimming with the fantasy of how they’ll feel around the thick of his cock, and he almost blacks out when he realizes that he’s no longer fingering you solely for your pleasure, but doing so to stretch you out and make room for him as well.

“You have such- such a perfect fucking pussy, fuck,” He says drunkenly, pulling his mouth away to watch his finger slowly slip in and out of you. His palm still faces the floor as he does so, leaving him the opportunity to lick at your clit as he pleases, and he does every so often just to see your pretty face melt like hot wax.

You make the courageous decision to sit back up on your elbows, keeping your knees tucked to you as you do so to give him the room he needs to please you. Another whimper slips out of you when you’re met with the sight of him between your legs; lips and chin glossy, face flushed pink, finger—fingers, oh fuck—now pumping into you lazily as his tongue slides out of his mouth to toy with you. You were hypnotized by the sight of your pussy being stretched open by his digits, his fingers covered in a sheen of arousal every time he pulls them out; then he shoves them back in and licks at your stuffed entrance to make you shake.

You could feel your throat closing in as your entire body is flooded with pleasure; like every fuck of his fingers were shoving your insides up your body until they got pushed to your throat. The desperate whines and whimpers that were leaving your lips slowly turn into wracked sobs and cries that get broken off with gasps that send blood pounding in Eren’s cock.

“Eren, Eren I-I’m gonna—fuck!” Your eyes squeeze shut, nails dig into his scalp, and your body begins to tense. The coil in your stomach grows tighter, winding and winding itself around Eren’s fingers, begging to be released.

It felt so good. It was so good—not only the stimulation to your body but the satisfaction that was flooding your brain. Pure contentment and security were all you felt as you lay bare and vulnerable at Eren’s disposal; because even though you presented him the opportunity to overpower you, to overwhelm you, to force himself onto you, you were safe with the knowledge that he would be disgusted even with the thought of such.

“Oh, baby—fuck. Come on, cum for me, let me feel it,” Eren begs, lifting his head from your cunt to lay it against your thigh, watching your face twist as you fall apart from the inside out.

In a last moment effort to push yourself over the edge, your fingers release the sheets and snake themselves down between your thighs. Still tangled in his hair, you push your other hand to the back of his head, shoving his mouth down to where your other fingers tease at your clit. Eren lets out a deep groan when he feels your fingers beneath his tongue, realizing that you’re aiding him in the search for your release.

“I—oh, God, don’t-don’t stop.” You plead, “Fuck, Eren, please.”

“‘wasn’t- I wasn’t planning on it,” He chokes, feeling your cunt beginning to flutter around his fingers and your legs strain in his grip, “Are you cummi—shit, you’re cumming, fuck,” and then he brings his mouth back down to drink down what you give him.

Your arms concurrently fall weak and grow tense, twitching in the air as you’ve pulled them away from between your thighs and from his hair. Wracked sobs are forced out of your throat as his fingers curl impossibly deeper, sending powerful waves of pleasure up through your veins until it explodes in your head and fireworks burst behind your squeezed eyes.

Eren watches you carefully, tongue still tasting you, but his eyes are flit upwards to admire your face as you break for him. Your beautiful face, contorted with the pleasure that he gave you, and your beautiful body, visible proof of just how ruined you are.

Poor, poor you; wrecked from his fingers and tongue, painfully naive to just how much worse his cock will tear you apart. You beg for it. Coming down from your orgasm, you sit up weakly, reaching for the waistband of his briefs—the final layer.

“Is this okay?” You ask him.

Eren’s heart thumps violently in his chest, swelling until he’s struggling to swallow. He watches as your hands pause on his hips. He looks over your heaving chest, covered in his own spit, and then to your face, your eyes wide and filled with need as you look up at him.

He gives himself a moment, breathes in deeply through his nose, lets the tension in his muscles dissipate, then brings a gentle hand to your face and holds you gently in his palm.

He smiles, then nods, “Yeah… yeah, it is.”

The final layer is shed, slid down by two pairs of hands. You’re pushed up the bed, head resting back on one of the soft pillows. The dark oak nightstand beside his bed is left with an open drawer as Eren returns to the bed with both his hands full. The puffy sheets give under the weight of a small bottle of lubricant that’s placed beside the two of you, and the mattress gives under the pressure of Eren settling himself before you, with a small, square-shaped, foil package between his fingers.

Kneeling between your legs, with your thighs open spread for him, Eren locks eyes with you as he begins to tear open that pretty little package. Your body burns beneath his gaze, chest and face flushing hot, but between your thighs slickens as your eyes land on the sight of his abdominals twitching to try and keep up his heavy cock. You shiver, skin scattering with goosebumps because he’s beautiful.

Once he’s rolled the condom over his length, Eren reaches beside you to grab a spare pillow. It’s taken in his right hand as he sits back up, and he takes your hip in his other hand, “Can you lift your hips for me?”

You dig your heels into the mattress and lift your body, and Eren takes the space beneath you and fills it with the pillow in his hand. When you lower yourself back down, you’re met with the plush of the pillow, and your hips are tilted just ever so slightly higher up to give him a better angle.

He picks up the lubricant, hands shaking as he drips it into his palm, and then he slowly slathers it over his cock. He hisses quietly under his touch, dick throbbing and lashes fluttering from the sensation of his slippery hand pumping over him. It’s not the lubricant that has his veins sparking, but the knowledge that you’re laying before him stretched out and spread open, ready to be filled with everything he can give you.

“It won’t hurt as much like this, ‘promise,” He says softly, removing his hand from himself and sliding the remaining slick on his hands with the arousal between your legs.

You’re wound up with anticipation, and you gasp at the slide of his fingers over you once more. Your heart beats erratically, both with anxiety and excitement, but the border between the two begins to blur as Eren slides just a little closer; the hard of him pressing against the inside of your thigh and his hands cupping over your knees.

“Talk to me.” He smooths over your knees, the pressure spreads them just a bit more, and the residue of lubricant shines in their wake. He sees himself so close to being inside you, and it makes him shiver.

“I’m okay,” You swallow hard and give him a reassuring nod. You reach out to where his knees are bent beneath your thighs and touch him similarly as he does to you, soothingly.

As Eren shifts a bit closer, you tighten up as you anticipate the blunt head of him pressing against you. But that’s not what you get. With your thighs on either side of his body, resting over his own, Eren gets close enough to you to place his hard cock on your stomach; with his balls pressed against your folds, the base resting on your clit, and the shaft straining up your abdomen.

You furrow your brows in the slightest, confused with his motives. He kneels there unmoving between your legs, only watching the length of him stretch up your stomach as his hands grip your thighs. So, you look with him. Coated with glossy lubricant, he drips onto your stomach, your skin sheening from where it smears across your skin. The pressure on your clit is only noticed when your eyes reach the base of him, and you hope he doesn’t feel the way your insides throb at the sensation.

And then, as you scan your eyes up the length of him, recognizing just how truly big he is, you realize what he’s doing.

He’s sizing you up.

He was sizing you up, seeing how deep he’ll go, seeing how wide he’ll stretch you out before he puts it in, seeing if he’ll fit.

The anticipated tension catches up with you and hits you like a train. Your body tightens up and stiffens because you’re all of a sudden worried that the space between your legs isn’t anatomically wide enough for the girth of him, worried that your cunt isn’t deep enough for his length.

But Eren’s quick to calm you down. With a gentle voice and slow rocking of his hips, sliding his shaft through the split of your folds, he says, “Hey, look at me,” while giving your tense thigh a gentle tap.

With wide eyes, you bring your gaze up from where he rests against your navel and up to him.

“Just look at me. I’ll go real slow, okay? I’ll fuck you so slow, baby.”

His words do more than just ease the tension in your body, at the mention of him fucking you, your hips jerk and join in the sensual sliding of him through you. A tiny moan slips through your lips as he lets out a tight exhale, his jaw clenching and abdomen flexing, hair falling into his eyes as his head grows heavy.

“‘ren?” Your voice is meek, “I wanna see you—wanna see your face.”

It’s a quick flick of his eyes to yours, and then to the hair tie on his wrist before he’s slipping it off and running his fingers through his hair to fix it to the back of his head. Out of haste, it was a little messier than he usually preferred to have; missing the entire base of his neck and leaving a few strands in his face. You both knew it would be a burden to brush out the knot of hair and elastic he had made when you finish, but neither of you seemed to care.

Pulling his hips back, he takes his base in his hand and aligns himself with your center; tip finding where your body splits. He feels you tighten against his sensitive head, and he swallows down a heavy groan.

He’ll fit, he knows he will, but it’ll hurt as always. You seemed to be made for him. No matter the thick of your thighs nor the width of your hips—it was an odd thought that he had—he believed that the build of your pelvis was just wide enough but just tight enough, that he would be the only one who would fill you perfectly.

“This okay?” He asks again, and you almost groan out of pure impatience.

After your quick nod and affirming words, he leans over your body with his left hand planted beside your head. The shift in position has the pressure of his cock pushing against your entrance by accident, and you gasp. Your hand finds his forearm, blunt nails digging into the muscle while your eyes shoot to where you feel him pressing against you.

“Look me in the eyes when I put it in.” He says, but it’s a command rather than a plea. You can hear it in the tone of his voice; that this wasn’t something he was asking of you, but something that he needs from you. So, you bring your eyes up from where they seemed to be stuck where you’re connected and catch them on his.

“There you go,” He whispers, and then the pressure at your cunt increases.

They were right when they spoke about the pain of losing your virginity; a deep ache, a burning stretch. No matter how prepared you were, no matter how thoroughly you were stretched and slicked, the body wasn’t used to being filled like that, so of course, it would hurt. It had you gasping and straining, thighs clamping around his waist, and hand fisting the bedsheets, but despite the ache and the pinch, it was nowhere near as bad as you expected.

The pain was there, but the intensity of it wasn’t. Perhaps it was because you were high off endorphins, your body flooded with hormones that blocked out discomfort, so filled with indescribably positive emotions that you can’t even care to think about how bad the pain could be, but you couldn’t care either way.

Only the head of his cock has begun to slip inside the tightness of your body, but it feels like you’re being split in half. It was so much; so much pressure in your pelvis, so much trying to bully its way in. You could feel your body squeezing up and trying to push him back out, not used to the size of the intrusion, and wanting to act against you.

“Let me in, baby,” Eren murmurs softly, his words easing up your body and turning your insides soft, “That’s it… that’s my girl.”

And his praise only continues to help. Every word that leaves his lips has another ounce of pain decreasing, which allows your body to loosen up just a bit more, which lets Eren slip himself inside you just a little farther. But every slip deeper shoots another dull ache into your veins, and the process has to repeat itself. It’s slow and strenuous as you both try to ease him in, and even after a good few minutes of work, only the head of him has pushed its way inside. The ridge where his shaft turns into his head is where the entrance of your cunt is grasped around tightly.

He stills there, unmoving, abdomen straining to keep his body from falling into yours. It’s a hard task for more reasons than one. The muscles in his body are burning hot and trembling from both the strain he’s using to hold himself up and the effect you have on his body, and then the sweet little whimpers and mewls that slip out of you make it so difficult for him to hold back the urge to bottom out and hear you cry his name.

“Eren,” You say breathlessly, the lines of pain and pleasure in your voice beginning to blur, “I—oh shit—please.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, it’s—yes.”

“Is—” Eren cuts himself off, pulling out slightly, just the head, then pushes it back into where it was, “Is this okay?”

This. This, this, this; the gentle fucking of the tip of his cock into you, slowly, shallowly, just letting you stretch around the curves of his head until your gasps and chokes of pain slowly fade into soft moans and needy whines.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s- It’s good,” You nod your head drunkenly, mind going fuzzy from the growing pleasure in your stomach.

Eren’s jaw slacks and his cock throbs, and the sudden gasp it pulls from you tells him that you had felt him shift inside you. You’re too pretty, too warm, too tight, too wet; even as the condom dulls the full effect of your insides, Eren’s still at his wit’s end. He’s the first to fill you up, he’s the first dick inside you, he’s in the process of taking your fucking virginity, and it’s driving him insane.

“‘gonna give you some more, okay? ‘gonna fill you up real nice,” His voice is weak and strained, but he still exudes the comfort that you need when you feel him push deeper and deeper.

There are a few moments where tears prick your vision as the stretch of your body grows too painful to continue. Eren stops diligently, cooing at you softly, petting your face after his forearms brace to the bed, and slipping a hand between your sweat-slicked bodies to circle your clit to counteract the pain. He asks over and over again if you wished for him to stop, so much so that you would have found it annoying if it wasn’t so endearing, but you decline every time.

You only come to realize that his hips are flush with yours when you’re pulled out of your haze by a deep groan that reaches your ears. Eren’s buried his face into the crook of your neck, his body completely flush with yours to the point where you can feel him shake, and he has to take a moment to breathe because Jesus-fucking-Christ he almost just came.

The tight and wet warmth of you squeezing and holding every inch of him has him fighting off an orgasm. It was beyond pathetic. He could feel his cheeks turning red just thinking about how humiliating it would have been if he would’ve tapped out his first stroke like a damn virgin. You have completely and utterly wrecked him with your only weapon being your existence.

It takes a minute for him to come down, but thankfully that minute wasn’t full of awkwardness. You yourself were trying to wrap your mind around the feeling of having your belly filled until no space was left. When you thought about it before, fantasized about him late at night with your fingers shoved knuckle deep inside you, you had expected the feeling to be similar to that you would experience after eating too much. But it wasn’t that. Even feeling him deep inside you and pushing against spots that you never knew existed, it wasn’t what you could necessarily describe as ‘full’. Sure, you were full, yes, but only because you were vacant before. And now that you are overflowing with purely him, you never want to be empty again.

“You’re… you’re inside me…” You breathe, voice saturated with awe.

Eren lifts off of you quickly yet cautiously at your words, “I’m… yeah, I am. Oh God, fuck, I’m inside you.” He sits back on his calves again, just enough so he can bring his eyes to where he sees himself sitting inside you.

He acts involuntarily, slowly tilting his hips back and forth, watching his cock slip in and out of you. It’s careful and cautious, a gentle easing you open; not moving enough to bring you discomfort, but moving just enough to see the slick of your insides coat a sheen over his length. He was gauging your reactions again, learning when to stop, when to keep going, what feels good, and what bothers you.

“Eren…” You whine out of embarrassment, face burning at the thought of him staring down the most intimate parts of you. But you don’t want him to stop; the gentle pumping inside you was growing more pleasurable with every pass of him through your walls, and it was quickly becoming something you needed more of.

“Talk to me… please.” He’s in a daze, too flooded with differing emotions to try and pick out which one he thought he was supposed to feel. He hopes that your next words will help him sort it all out; he doesn’t want to be ecstatic if you’re in pain, doesn’t want to be aroused if you’re uncomfortable.

You choke on a whine, taking a few gasping breaths before speaking, “‘feels… feel so full. I—oh God,” You cry, squeezing your eyes shut and reaching a shaky hand down to your cunt to feel where his cock splits you open. You feel around the intrusion, mapping out the spread of your folds, the stretch of your entrance, the girth of his body impaling you, realizing just how much you were having to take. “It’s so much.”

“I know, I know, I can see how fucking- fucking stuffed you are.” Eren stammers weakly, his head buzzing and his hands smoothing over the fat of your thighs to try and ground himself. “‘feels good?”

“Mhm,” You whimper, nodding alongside the sweet noise leaving your lips.

You grind your hips against his, both for emphasis and for stimulation, and let yourself get used to having something inside you. Eren gently plays with your clit as you shift him around in your depths, savoring every squeeze of your cunt, every gush of your walls as the pain slowly and gradually subsides itself into nothingness.

Just as he reaches deeper inside you, the pleasure you feel hits deeper as well. It’s something that bursts in your chest and swells up into your throat until every slow stroke of his hips into you has you choking up and crying. It turns your limbs weak and fuzzy, burns you up and boils you from the inside out. It was profound, intoxicating, addicting, and you want him to give you more.

“Kiss me, please. I wanna kiss you,” You beg, reaching up with needy hands to take a hold of his face and coax him down to you.

Eren’s chest swells, and he gives in easily, leaning over your body and dropping to his forearms to softly take your lips in his. It’s a precious kiss, one where all his love pours off his tongue and pools into your mouth for you to swallow down. His love is traded for your whines, ones that are pulled from you as the shift of his body sends him just that much deeper inside you. Your legs tighten around his hips, wrapping around his waist, heels digging into the dimples at the base of his spine, shaking, trembling, and your hand flies between you to press against his stomach to push him out just a little.

Eren pulls from your lips, nose brushing against yours as he asks, “You okay?”

Your fingers twitch against the muscles of his stomach as you try and piece together your words, only eventually spitting out a tiny, “‘s so deep.”

So, Eren pulls out just a bit, holding down a groan that threatens to spill over with every inch of drag of him through the silky walls of your cunt. But that’s when it hits you, the first true and painless stroke. That’s when you realize why the fuck Eren Jaeger has so much sex… because it’s so good. The first moan that he’s pulled from you with his dick alone is absolute music to his ears; it was the first true sign of pleasure that you have ever experienced from having someone else inside you… and it was all caused by him.

“Oh God, baby,” He breathes, “‘so sensitive.”

He’s tainted your sweet and virginal body with every ounce of his being. He’s ruined your tight little cunt and stretched it out for his liking, carved out your insides for a perfect fit of him, made it completely impossible for anyone else to fill you the way he does. He’s wrecked you and fucked you up, rendered you sweaty and shaking and cock-drunk with only a few pumps to your insides. He’s single-handedly obliterated every last individual on Earth that ever had a chance with you.

Eren’s hands are clammy as they grip onto your hips, “Can I—shit, I don’t know how to say this—can I—please.” His voice strains as he loses his words, “I want to- wanna fuck you so bad.”

You tighten around him, insides squeezing down on the hard of his cock until he groans shakily and his eyes flutter shut. Deep in the pit of his stomach, a ball of fire rolls around and swelters, it burns hotter with every passing second, expands with every minute, shifts his organs aside as it grows and burns. It was a fire that you lit the flame to; a fire that together, you pour gasoline on until the flames at its surface flicker blue. It licks at his insides, bites at his groin, blazes so hot that he sweats and pants like a dog. But he doesn’t want the fire to go out, he wants it to burn him alive.

“Yeah, just… gosh, yes, please.” You exhale, all tension leaving your body to be replaced with relief.

And at that, Eren does. Pulling himself out of you slowly, savoring the tight heat of your body, and listening to your soft whines in response to his movements, he brings everything out until only the head of his dick remains engulfed by the warmth of your cunt, and then, he pushes back in.

Your body gives easily, still a bit tight, but so much easier than it had when he was working himself in for the first time. It doesn’t resist his intrusion, doesn’t tighten up at the foreign sensation, it sucks him in and pulls him deeper until his balls are smushed up against the curve of your ass and both of you shudder from the pleasure that wracks your bodies.

And then he does it again, and again, and again; watching your pretty face melt and your body go weak as you’re filled over and over with the fat of his cock. The beautiful moans that follow his every thrust scratch a certain itch in his brain, and every whimper of his name as he wrecks your being fulfills his every need in his life.

There was nothing that either of you needed more than this; not just the sex, not just the pleasure, but the pure and unadulterated vulnerable intimacy that tugs at your heartstrings and pricks tears to your vision. You both could cry; not because it hurt, and not because it was sad, but because you were so filled with happiness that your body couldn’t hold anymore of it inside you so it chose to leak from your being in the form of tears. The sensation, the stimulation, the emotion, and the passion, and the devotion—they all pile on top of each other until they tip themselves over and crash to the ground in an explosion of white light. It’s beautiful.

Your hands dig their fingers into the muscles of his back, blunt nails etching into his skin, piercing his flesh at a microscopic level like you were trying to bury yourself inside him like he is with you. Your thighs squeeze around his waist so hard, tug him so close to your body, that not one inch of skin on your body isn’t covered with the warmth of him. And even then, you grind your hips up against his, wanting closer, wanting his everything.

He alternates between burying his face in the crook of your neck, biting at the thin skin, nipping at your ears, licking at the line of your jaw, and choosing to lift himself up until your foreheads, noses, and lips are brushing against each other; breathing in each other’s air, swallowing down each other’s moans with your lips, looking into each other’s eyes. But he chooses, on a particular switch to where his lips are pressed against your ear, he murmurs:

“You like it?”

And you can hear the way his smirk leaks into his voice; that cocky timbre, so smooth and so composed that for a minute you’re convinced he’s practiced it. But before you could even think about it for even a moment, the tones of his voice slam their effect into your cunt like a train, and you're tightening around him and choking out an answer in between wrecked sobs.

“Yes, it’s—oh fuck—it’s so fucking- so good,” It’s your turn to nuzzle your nose into his neck, breathing in the intoxicatingly deep and musky scent that’s pure Eren and pure sex, “I can’t, I- I need you.”

“I’m right here, I’m… I’m literally as close to you as I can possibly be,” He laughs breathily, lifting his head to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

“No, no, no,” Your head shakes with every word, “‘closer. ‘need you closer.”

Eren can’t say no when your hands are grabbing at his shoulders, when your body is bowing off the bed and into his, when your hips are lifting off the pillow beneath them to try and meet his thrusts and force him a bit deeper.

He can’t stop himself from shifting his weight to one forearm and sliding his other arm beneath your back to lift up your body just a bit to pull you closer to him when you’re pleading for him in such a sweet and needy voice.

And he can’t tell if it’s the slightest change in the position or the gratitude that fills your veins that forces the most beautiful noises from you; perhaps it’s a bit of both. With an arm beneath your body to hug your stomach against his, and a pillow beneath your hips to angle you right, Eren’s given the freedom to pound into that perfect little spot inside you that has your vision going spotty and your head feeling full.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, right there. Eren, please, please don’t stop,” You beg, lashes fluttering shut and eyes rolling back as the tip of his cock ruts into the deepest parts of you over and over and over.

“Right there?” He asks, punctuating his question with a particularly harsh snap of his hips.

“Mhm!”

He wishes he could let out a teasing laugh at your desperation, but every pulse of your walls around the length of him takes another breath out of his lungs, takes the strength out of his arms, and has him releasing you to the mattress as he’s forced to drop down to his elbows again. He curses himself for being unable to continue with the assault on your sweet spot, but you don’t seem to mind, for neither the volume nor frequency of your moans seem to decrease at the shift.

He takes your face in his hands, palms smushing your cheeks and thumbs resting on your chin, “You’re taking me so well,” He praises, running his thumb up to your bottom lip, “It’s like you were made for me—made for my cock.”

You’re convinced that there and then is when you lost your ability to think. You’re absolutely certain that at that moment, Eren had positively fucked you dumb. Even though you tried, tried so hard to let out a little mewl of appreciation, tried so hard to come up with a way to respond, tried so hard to even fucking think, you just couldn’t do it. Your mouth falls open, your eyes squeeze shut so tight that you see colors behind your lids, and your body tightens down on him so hard that for a second he thinks you’re cumming.

But he knows you better than that.

“You like me talking to you, don’t you, baby,” He hums. No questioning lies behind his words, but rather stating the obvious.

You give him a stupid little nod, shutting your mouth and taking your bottom lip between your teeth. He sounds muffled, like someone was holding your head underwater, but he also is the only thing you can hear, like the water clogging your ears was made up of him.

“You like hearing me tell you how good you’re taking me?” He continues, pulling your lip out from your bite, “‘how you’re such a good girl for doing so well for her first time, hm?”

“Yes—I love it, I love it so much,” Tears slip from the corners of your eyes, dripping down your face and leaving glistening streams of nothingness along your skin.

“You’re fucking perfect.”

The winding coil in your stomach has begun to strain, the copper wiring being pulled taught around its wheel. Eren can sense it too, deep in his gut he knows how close you are, and not only that, but he can read it on your body, all the way down to sensing the hairs on your arm stand on end. His ego fucking soars knowing that he is the one you’re going to cum around for the first time, that he brought you there by himself, and tipped you over the edge with only his voice.

“Eren,” You force out, “Eren, I’m—I… I’m gonna cum.” You warn him, voice tight.

“Jesus fuck. C’mon, cum all over me, cum all over my fucking cock,” He thrusts harder, speaking through his teeth.

Your lower stomach flexes, legs lock around his waist, and your nails dig into his shoulders as you feel yourself reaching the top of the rollercoaster, waiting for the moment that the cart flies down the rails.

“‘Ren—”

“Open your eyes, come on. Look at me when you cum,” He pleads, voice shaky, his own orgasm taunting him, but he refuses to let himself release before you do, “Please, baby—fuck.”

So with heavy eyelids and a blurry vision, you crack your eyes open so that as your orgasm hits you like a freight train, the only thing you can see is him. His cheeks are a pretty pink along with the bridge of his nose, and his face is glossed over with perspiration that’s lit aglow by the dim lamp still illuminating the room with a warm ambiance; the baby hairs on his forehead stick to his skin until they’re tinted dark by the dampness of his skin, and pretty violet bruises splotch over his neck and the divots of his collarbones; in his eyes, no more of that deep jade remains wrapped around his pupils, they’ve darkened to black, so deep and dark that you swear you could see yourself in them if you looked close enough.

And that’s all you think about. Him. Even as you release and leak down the base of him, even as your body is ablaze, the only thing that registers in your cock-drunk brain is Eren. His hands holding your face, his body moving in yours, your souls intertwining.

He feels everything as the walls of your cunt throb around the girth of him, the second heartbeat of your body, sucking him in and forcing him out in waves, squeezing from base to tip like you were trying to empty him. He looks into your eyes as you fall apart, at the way they glisten with tears; he looks at your face and the way your brows scrunch up and your lips part as you sing him such a beautiful siren song. And then, as you tug him into your depths, pressing your mouth to his, you swallow him whole, and he can no longer hold back the weight of his release.

You feel it when it happens. Despite being distracted by your own throbbing, you so strongly feel the way the underside of his cock pulses inside you as he cums. You feel his balls draw in tight to his body, and you feel them empty pulse by pulse into the condom, and you could be dreaming, but you swear you feel the warmth of his release even through the thin rubber.

“I feel you—I feel it, Eren, fuck.” You whimper into his mouth.

And even as he’s emptying himself of everything he has into the tiny little tip of the condom, he still asks in a strained voice, “Yeah? ‘feel me cumming?”

His words only draw out your orgasm for longer, sending another wave of euphoria through you, stringing it along until he’s empty, and only then does it settle.

The room is silent, save for the heavy panting of both of you trying to catch your breaths. Your heart thumps heavily in your ears to the point where you can feel every beat behind your eyes. Your bodies still stick together from the mess of sweat and release, skin tacky from the exertion.

Although his arms tremble and weaken, Eren uses the last bit of strength in his body to take your face in his hands and kiss you deeply. It’s a mess of spit and hot breath and his clammy hands sticking to your face, but you couldn’t have asked for anything else.

Eren hisses a small, “Fuck,” as he slips himself out of you, and he clenches his jaw from the overstimulation of taking the soiled condom off.

And then it’s done.

He lays back down beside you, snakes his arms around your waist and tugs your back to his chest, and buries his face into the crook of your neck. You relax in his hold, savoring the warmth of his body and smiling at the soft kiss he presses to your neck.

The rest comes later; for now, you idle.

#the worthy #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger x reader smut #eren smut

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cjsinkythoughts · 3 years

Text

The Conversation

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 7661 (Don’t come at me - you guys asked for it)

Warnings: !FATWS Spoilers!, Cursing, Fluff, Feelings, I Dunno What Else, This One’s Pretty Chill, Except The Ending, But You’ll See When You Get There

A/N: Here it is! I was hesitant about posting it because that means we’re getting closer to the end and I’m such a nostalgic bitch! I’m definitely gonna cry next week when the last episode comes out! Anyways, I’ve got a few things to talk about:

I think this is one of the most important chapters I’ve written and I’m excited to see your reactions to it. It is longer, but you guys asked for that, so you got it! Also, I’m loving the Asks, Comments, and Reblogs. I try to respond to all of them. I have work in a little bit, so I won’t be able to until after, but I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Ask me anything; about my series, the show, any of the movies, personal stuff, I really don’t care. If you’re not comfortable, that’s totally fine! Every like means so much to me!

I know it’s not the end yet - we’ve got one more episode and a list of One Shots to get through - but there’s a definite feeling of this series coming to an end, and I just want to thank you all for the support and love you’ve been giving it! I’ve really enjoyed writing these characters and this story! It’s very, very special to me and I’m glad I’ve been able to share it with you lovely people!

On that note, be kind to yourselves and others! Thank you again for reading! Excuse any mistakes - this isn’t beta’d! Enjoy and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT! (Sorry for the gifs I just love them so much and he’s so pretty and this part is technically two parts so...you get four!)

“Louisiana.” Bucky hummed, looking around the airport.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re not gonna find anything interesting about Louisiana in here, doofus. Let’s call an Uber.”

“An Ooper? What the hell is an Ooper?”

You giggled, shaking your head and grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the luggage carousel. “Uber. It’s like…a taxi service. But there’s an app on your phone to get a driver instead of waiting for one on the street.”

“Oh.” He blinked, tilting his head. “That’s…helpful.”

You laughed again, stopping in front of Carousel 3, where your flight from New York was assigned. You went back to New York to grab a bag with clean clothes and other necessities, along with taking a real shower for once. It was nice to be back in the States, as much as you loved traveling. It’d been a crazy few weeks and you were ready to just relax.

“Do you think there were any problems with Sammy’s present?”

Bucky shook his head. “Nah. Especially considering they know who we are.”

You snickered at his slight grumble. They had had…problems at the other two airports - first the one in Sokovia then JFK in New York - considering Bucky’s entire arm was metal. It’d taken a full hour before they actually let you go, and by that time they had to give you a new plane because yours had left.

“Seriously. Who else has a fucking metal arm and has 1917 listed as their birth year on their Driver’s License?” You giggled again. That was also true. They thought he was messing with them. It wasn’t until you stepped in a few minutes after they asked Bucky to step to the side, seeing Bucky get frustrated, that they realized Bucky wasn’t pulling their legs.

“Well, we’re here now and that’s all that matters.”

He nodded in agreement, watching for your bags, his hand finding yours when he realized how many people there were. “Do you know where he lives? I didn’t even think about it.”

“Yeah, don’t worry. He invited me over once. I declined, but I saved the address.”

“He…invited you over?” Bucky frowned.

You gave him a look. “I’m sure he invited you, too. You just never checked his texts.”

He licked his lips, tilting his head. “Yeah, no, I know, but I mean…why didn’t you go? Weren’t you two just talking about how you wanted to meet his nephews the other day?”

“Yeah, but I had gotten a tip on Wanda at the time and I didn’t want to miss the chance that she was there. He told me it was fine. I still felt really bad. I could tell he was a bit disappointed. I think it was one of the boys’ birthdays. Or something. I don’t remember. Is that bad? Yeah, probably. I really should remember. Maybe I should keep track of birthdays on my calendar or something.”

“Doll.” You looked up to find him giving you a magnificent smile, teeth and all. “You’re rambling.”

“Oh. Am I? Sorry. I didn’t realize.”

He shook his head quickly, squeezing your hand. “Don’t apologize. It’s cute. I’m just not used to you talking so much. You kinda did on the phone sometimes.”

You shrugged, pushing down the heat crawling up your neck at his words. “I rambled a lot to Steve.”

“Oh.”

His face fell, making you scrunch your eyebrows up in confusion, nudging him slightly to grin at him. “It’s nice to have someone to ramble to again, though.” There was that smile again. You were stopped from saying anything more when you noticed some kids pointing and chattering excitedly at a gleaming silver box coming around the corner on the conveyor belt. “There it is.”

He looked over his shoulder, dropping your hand and stepping over to grab it, lifting it effortlessly. You didn’t know what was in it or how heavy it was, but you were sure it felt like a feather to him.

“Alright. Got our bag, sweetheart?” You lifted up the duffle in answer and he jerked his head towards the doors. “Let’s get outta here, then. Call that Booper or whatever.”

“U-B-E-R! Ub-er!” You threw your hands up, following him as he started walking towards the exit. “What’s so hard about it?!”

He just gave you a little smirk over his shoulder.

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

Bucky kept asking the Uber driver questions about his job. The guy was super nice and patient the whole time, a thick southern accent lacing his answers. Southern hospitality was no joke and apparently had no limit as Bucky asked about his experiences, listening intently and telling him his own stories of taxi drivers in NYC.

When you got to Sam’s sister’s house, Bucky, being Bucky, tipped the driver half of what you paid for the ride, thanking him for his time and energy, before getting out.

“You’re so adorable, you know that?” You teased him as you stepped up the porch stairs and knocked on the door.

He rolled his eyes, a tint of pink dusting across his cheeks. “He was nice.”

You hummed at his defense, the smile never leaving your features. After a moment, Bucky raised his fist to knock again. “Jesus Christ! Don’t fucking knock their door down!” You grabbed his wrist and lowered it.

“Sorry. I forget sometimes.” Bucky informed you absentmindedly, tilting his head to peek in the window. “I don’t think anyone’s home.”

“They’re probably at the docks, then.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “The docks?”

You nodded, gesturing for him to follow you. “Yeah. They have a boat, remember? He talked about it last week.”

“Oh right. The one he’s trying to convince his sister not to sell.”

“Yeah.” You confirmed. “I’m pretty sure it’s that way. I don’t know how far, but we can call the Uber back-”

Bucky scrunched up his face and shook his head. “Nah. I don’t wanna bother him again. We can walk.”

You gave him an incredulous look. “It’s literally his job to drive people around.”

“Well, yeah, but what if he’s got other people to drive?”

You lifted his metal knuckles to your lips. “Trust me, Buck, I’m sure he’d rather drive you than anyone else.”

“Thank you?”

Swinging your now linked hands, you gave a firm nod, letting him know it was, in fact, a compliment. “You are so very welcome.”

The walk was a lot longer than you thought it was, and you ended up on Bucky’s back after he kept complaining about how you “shouldn’t be walking this long” and you were “injured” and you “needed rest’”. You’re not sure how a shoulder wound affected your ability to walk, but you relented and let him carry you the rest of the way to stop his whining.

“You forget, you did pull your thigh.”

“That was, like, three weeks ago! Yeesh!”

You finally got to the docks, which were bustling with people. Bucky set you down and raised an eyebrow which you shrugged in reply to, before heading over to where you spotted Sam with a few other older men.

“How do we get it off the truck?” You heard Sam ask, pointing to a large boat engine part in the bed of a beaten up truck. Scoffing as Bucky lifted it up without breaking a sweat, you leaned against the truck. Bucky grunted and set it down, looking at Sam.

“You’re welcome.” What a punk. “Just dropping this off.” Bucky lifted the case and set it where the engine was previously, Sam coming to stand on the opposite side of the truck as you. “You can sign for it and I’ll go.” You snorted, shaking your head, making Bucky shove your shoulder - the uninjured one - playfully. “I called in a favor from the Wakandans.”

Sam looked at you curiously. You shrugged and shook your head. “Don’t look at me, Sammy. He wouldn’t tell me what it is. He’s all hushy hushy about it until you say so.”

Before Sam could reply, there was a squeak and hissing over at the boat where steam was coming from a few pipes.

“Sam!” You knew that was Sarah from pictures Sam showed you. You stayed up by the truck, pulling yourself onto the bed while Sam tried fixing the pipe, Bucky butting in to show him how to do it properly.

“Why didn’t you use the metal arm?”

You saw Bucky lift up said metallic limb. “Well…I don’t always think of it immediately. I’m-I’m right handed.” Letting out a laugh, Bucky turned around and scowled teasingly at you. “And what’re you laughing at?!”

“Nothing!”

“Well then get your ass over here!”

You rolled your eyes, hopping down from the truck as Bucky asked if Sam wanted help with the boat. You leaned against a wooden post, grinning when Sam looked at you.

“I don’t have any plans.”

Sam gave a small smile, jerking his head back. “Yeah.”

You jumped down onto the boat to follow him, looking over your shoulder and stopping with an amused eyebrow raised as Bucky introduced himself to Sarah. “I’m Bucky.”

“Ah…Sarah.”

“Sarah.” Bucky repeated her name, before walking towards you, a grin still on his lips.

“Careful, Barnes. That playboy Steve warned me about is coming out.” You nudged him with a smirk, ignoring the feeling of your stomach dropping.

He rolled his eyes, kissing your head as he passed you and Sam to go where Sam was gesturing. “Don’t worry, Y/N. You’re still my doll.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, falling into step besides you and lowering his voice. “Conversation?”

“Hasn’t happened.” You informed him through clenched teeth as he groaned.

Sam gave you a list of chores that needed to be done to clean up the boat, giving you a quick tour and letting you know where all the tools needed where. You set to work immediately.

Sanding down, replacing old parts, cleaning, polishing and painting over the things that didn’t need replacing. They didn’t let you do any heavy lifting because of your stupid shoulder, but you were still able to help.

Sam had turned on some music for you to listen to, so you danced around the boat while cleaning. Turning your head when you felt a pair of eyes on you, you smiled when Bucky snapped his head back down to the wood he was sanding down.

“Gonna dance, Barnes?”

He looked back over, shaking his head. “Nah. I’m good watching you.”

Rolling your eyes, you got back to work, continuing to bop to the music, fully aware that he was watching you now.

A little while later, you were repainting the edges of the boat orange, when you looked over and noticed Bucky playing around with a paint scraper…sitting right on the edge that you had just finished repainting a few minutes ago.

“Buck!”

He looked over, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back your mischievous grin. Shaking your head, you waved dismissively. “Never mind!”

He gave you a confused sort of pout, before shrugging and continuing to fidget with the tool. It wasn’t until later when he got up to help Sam tear the metal plating off the edge that it came to light with Sam chuckling and raising an eyebrow.

“Sit in something there, Barnes?”

“What?”

Bucky craned his neck back, eyes widening when he saw the orange paint on his ass, contrasting with his jeans. You let out a cackle and he whipped towards you, pointing at you accusingly, although the small uptick of his lips let you know he wasn’t really mad.

“Y/N!”

“No, no, no!” You laughed, sprinting across the deck, shrieking when he grabbed your waist and spun you around. You gasped when he grabbed a paint brush and painted an orange stripe right down the front of your shirt. “James!”

“Justice, sweetheart.” He breathed in your ear with a chuckle.

You shook your head, wiggling out of his hold. “This is a nice shirt!”

“You should’ve thought about that before.” He smirked, crossing his arms. Your eyes caught sight of Sam behind him, who raised an eyebrow and the bucket of paint he was holding. You nodded with a little giggle, making Bucky’s eyes narrow. “What’s so funny over there, do - holy shit!

You guffawed as orange paint dripped down his head, Sam standing innocently behind him with the now empty bucket behind his back. “Samuel!”

“Oops?”

“I’m gonna kill you!”

“Try me old man!”

“Fuck!

“Doll!”

“Oh my God!”

Paint, orange and white since those were the only cans they had out, flew across the deck, paint brushes being used like fencing swords.

You found out too late that wet paint was a little bit slippery and you slid on a huge puddle, sending you, not onto the ground below, but over the side of the edge into the water.

“Doll!”

“Cher, you good?!”

The three of you looked at each other, stunned for a moment, before bursting into fits of laughter and you nodded. “I’m good!”

The boys helped you get back up onto the dock, Sarah appearing with towels she conjured up out of thin air. “Let’s get you into dry clothes. Do you have-?”

“We’ve got some. We got a bag.” You told her with a grin, facing the guys. “You two should clean up some, too. Sammy, you’ve got a little something right there.” You pointed to your cheek, his own having a giant white splotch from his temple to his jaw. “And Buck?” You sniggered, gesturing to the whole of him. “You’ve got a lotta something right there.”

“Ha. Ha.” He looked down. His top was practically tiger print, drenched in orange with white here and there, and his ass still orange as well. His hair, which had been plastered to his forehead, was starting to dry now, and it only made you laugh some more thinking about what a pain it’d be to get it out. For him, at least.

“God. Can’t even have a relaxing day on the boat with you two.” Sam jested once you finished up and joined him and Bucky, who had just finished dumping out some water buckets. Bucky had changed his shirt and it looked like they tried wiping their faces, but Sam still had small lines of white down his face. “How ‘bout a couple of drinks? Surely you can’t ruin that too.”

“Ruin?” You gasped in mock offence. “Sammy! I just made the day more…interesting.”

Sam chuckled, ruffling Bucky’s hair, which still had orange streaks in it. “Let’s go get some beers.”

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

You chatted for a bit, mainly you and Sam with you asking how Sarah and the boys were while Bucky with your legs in his lap, just listening to you two and sipping at his bottle. You had his hand in your own lap, wiping it down with a rag due to the paint that got on it.

“You’re lucky this is vibranium, you know.” You commented off handedly. “If it was your other one, it’d definitely get stained.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Bucky shot back with a teasing grin.

“Sammy’s.”

Sam spluttered. “Wh-what?! You started it!” You laughed, shaking your head.

Falling into a comfortable silence with just the water and birds chirping as your soundtrack, you downed the rest of your drink, which Bucky took as finished. “Well,” you moved your legs to let him stand up. He leaned forwards to clink his bottle against Sam’s and you stood up and stretched. “Gotta catch our flight tomorrow. Get a hotel room for the night.” Sam gave you a look to which you rolled your eyes at as Bucky set down his bottle and grabbed his jacket. “Crash, you know?”

“So you’re just gonna set me up like that, huh?”

“Well I don’t wanna make it weird for your family.”

“Just stay here.” You laughed as Sam babbled on about how nice the people were here, grabbing the jacket Bucky handed to you. It was getting a bit chilly from the breeze on the water and the sun going down. Plus, that water was cold.

“But don’t flirt with my sister.”

You cackled at Bucky’s face, that turned serious, his head shaking. “No.”

“‘Cause if you do I’ll have Carlos cut you up and feed you to the fish.”

“Can’t hold back the dog, Wilson. It’s been stuck in a kennel too long.”

Bucky turned to you, grabbing your jaw and squishing your cheeks together. “You know what? You need to shush. You’ve been snippy all day.”

You just smiled as innocently as you could with your lips being held by his metal fingers. “You’re too fun to mess with.”

He pecked your nose. “As long as I’m the only one you’re messing with. I’ll be right back.” He let you go and spun around, maneuvering around the boat in a way only a trained assassin could do.

“Oh my God, please! Please just put me out of my fucking misery! You’re killing me, cher.”

“What?” You gaped at him.

“Don’t act innocent!” Sam huffed, giving you a pointed look. “If I have to watch you two make googly eyes at you one more fucking day with neither of you doing anything about it-”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh come on, Sammy-”

“Don’t ‘come on, Sammy’ me! And don’t come at me with that ‘he doesn’t like me back’ bullshit. If you think for a second that boy wouldn’t follow you to the depths of the fucking ocean, you’re blind as a bat, woman.”

You shrugged, pushing up the sleeves of Bucky’s too big jacket. “It just…hasn’t come up.”

He deadpanned, shaking his head and standing up. “That’s it. I’m done. You two are driving me insane. I’m gonna lock you in a room until you have the conversation that needs to be had the next time either of you does something stupid.”

“Yikes. That’s gonna be quick.” At his look, your smile dropped and you nodded. “Okay, okay. I’ll…I’ll bring it up later.”

“Tomorrow or nothing.”

“Sam-”

Sam tilted his head, brow creasing. “Is it still Steve? Is that what this is still about? Because he’s gone, and he’s been gone and you need to get over it-”

“No. It’s not…” You sighed. “It clicked the other day. When we were hanging out. Steve left and, yeah, I might always love him, but Bucky…God…I love Bucky, Sam.”

The man grinned proudly. “I’m glad to finally hear you admit it. So what’s the problem?”

“It’s still complicated, right? I mean…he’s his best friend and I’ve never dealt with stuff like this before and-”

Sam’s smile dropped and he groaned again. “Imma head out. I can’t take this. Dumbass and dumberass. I swear to God.” You sniggered a bit as he grumbled, walking towards the ramp to climb off the boat, just as Bucky reappeared.

“Hey-”

“Nope! Not right now, Barnes! I can’t handle it! I can’t!”

Bucky gave you a weird look. “What’d you do?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Nothing.”

“Well, c’mon, doll. Sarah said she’s gonna make gumbo for us, whatever that is.” He held out his hand as you walked over.

“You’re such a city boy.” You teased lightly, taking his hand and letting him help you pull you onto the dock. You shoved the sleeves of his jackets up again since they slipped from the first time. “Let’s go get some dinner. I’m starving.”

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

“We have the couch and a mattress we can pull out, I just have to make Sam get it from the attic-”

“That’s alright. The couch is fine.” Bucky waved dismissively while you nodded in agreement.

Sarah raised an eyebrow at you two. “For both of you?”

You blinked, exchanging a look with Bucky, before shrugging and turning back to her. “Yeah.”

“Don’t fight it, Sarah.” Sam peeked out from the hall. “They’ve got a weird relationship.” You stuck your tongue out at the man while Bucky rolled his eyes, dropping your duffle bag by the couch. “How mature, Y/N.” Sam mimicked your action.

“Uhm…okay. Let me set up the couch for you then.”

Once everything was set up, you and Bucky thanking her for dinner - delicious and you’d never seen Bucky smile so much, the boys having kept him highly entertained throughout the meal - and for letting you crash, Sam and Sarah headed to their rooms, the boys already having been tucked in for the night.

“Are you gonna sleep on the floor?” You asked quietly, sitting down on the couch and doing the things for your night routine you didn’t already do in the bathroom.

“I think I’ll be okay.” He sat besides you. “I’ve been doing fine the past week or so.”

You smiled at him. “That’s good. Alright.” You stood up and stretched. “Let me just make sure everything’s in the bag and ready-”

You yelped when his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest, shifting down to lay against the couch’s arm. “Do it in the morning.” He yawned, looking up at you tiredly. “I wanna go to sleep.”

“Then go to sleep, Buck. I’ll be right back.” He shook his head, his hold tightening as he sunk deeper into the couch.

“No. I fall asleep better with you.”

You rolled your eyes but grinned, settling down with your legs between his, your chin resting on his sternum so you could still look at him. He beamed, but you could see the exhaustion settling in, and he grabbed the blanket Sarah left over the back of the couch and draped it across your back, over both of your legs, before his arms crossed snugly under the covers at the small of your back.

“Dinner was nice tonight. I haven’t had a meal cooked like that in ages.” You hummed.

He nodded in agreement. “I think that’s the first time I’ve sat around a table with a family since the 40′s.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Did you like it?”

“Yeah...kinda makes me wish I had my own.”

“Your own what?”

“Family.”

You bit your lip, shyly avoiding his gaze. “You’re my family, Buck.”

A light kiss was pressed to your forehead, his fingers bringing your gaze back to his. “There’s no one else I’d rather have.” The room lapsed into silence again, the clock ticking on the wall, the low sound of crickets outside.

“You have really pretty eyes.” You mumbled, tilting your head slightly as you studied them. They always held so much emotion in them, especially in contrast to when you first met him as Soldat. They matched the water you fell in, and you wouldn’t mind falling over and over into them.

“Yeah, well, you’re just really pretty inside and out, so I think you’ve got me beat, doll.” He whispered back.

“You know who else is pretty? Sarah.”

He nodded with a hum. “That’s true. But I meant what I said. You’ll always be my doll.”

“So you’re not gonna ask her out?”

He gave you a weird look as you traced his sharp jawline absentmindedly. “Nah, sweetheart. It’s just…some harmless flirting. Except on Sam’s part.”

You gave a soft huff of laughter. “Yeah…he’s gonna strangle you. It is nice to see you like that, though. Flirty. Relaxed. Happy.”

“You make me happy, sweetheart.” He hummed, nosing your temple. “The road trip helped. I’m learning everything from you. Maybe not the flirting, but the carefree part.”

You blinked at him, finger stopping for a moment as you thought. “Oh…”

You felt his fingers dance up your spine, making you shiver slightly. “What I would give to know what’s goin’ on inside that pretty lil’ head’a yours, doll.”

“I just think it’s funny you’re learning how to be carefree from me…when I just started learning how to do it myself.”

“Oh yeah?”

You nodded, your finger continuing its path down his jaw. “I think it started with the goats.”

“The goats?”

You nodded again, resting your cheek on his chest, watching your finger move up from his chin. Once you got to the end of his jaw, you lightly scratched his scruff. “In Wakanda. Our goats.” You weren’t looking at him, so you didn’t see the way he physically melted at your words, his eyes going soft, his lips turning up slightly.

“Our goats, huh?”

But your tired brain wasn’t really processing what he said, instead focusing on the features your finger was now tracing - over his lips, up his nose. “You’re pretty too, Buck. Did you know that? Inside and out.”

He craned his neck to kiss your forehead. “Go to sleep, cuddle bug.”

Nodding, you nuzzled into his chest, finger feeling over the bumps and indents on the dog tags resting near your head. You tried going to sleep, but you kept shifting, your mind not shutting off.

“Hey, sleepyhead, I’m trying to, you know, sleep.”

“Sorry.” You apologized meekly. “I just…I dunno. I can’t.”

“Are you comfortable?” He peeked open and eye to look at you questioningly. You nodded. “Is it too hot? We can take the blanket off. I know I’m a walking furnace-”

You shook your head. “No. I don’t know why. I just can’t sleep.”

He licked his lips thoughtfully, before cradling your head and guiding you back down to his chest. “Lay down, sweetheart. Relax.” He stroked your hair, moving his head down to rub circles in your back muscles, pressing down harder when he felt knots.

You hummed, your eyes closing. “That feels good.”

“Shshsh. Just go to sleep.” His lips pressed against your head once more, lingering a bit longer than they usually do, as you felt yourself drift off. You cuddled his side, throwing a leg over his waist, before nodding off, only barely hearing his words. “Attagirl. There we are.”

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

“Doll?” You felt a shift underneath you and groaned, your eyes barely cracking open. “Hey, sleepyhead…it’s okay. I’m just gonna slip out from under ya, alright? Gonna go help Sammy with somethin’.”

You raised an eyebrow, letting him move you against the cushions as he sat up on the edge of the couch. “Sammy?”

“Yeah.” He bent over and kissed your cheek. You stretched out your limbs, about to rub your eyes, when he stopped you, kissing the inside of your wrists. “No. Not you, doll. Go back to sleep.”

“Bu’...’m gonna help.” You slurred out, looking at him with confused, squinty eyes.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s okay. Rest. You can help when you wake up again. Okay?” You mumbled out an “okay”, bringing the covers up to your chin and snuggling deeper into the cushions. “There ya go, cuddle bug. Good girl.” There was another kiss, one to your temple this time, before you slipped back into unconsciousness.

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

The next time you woke up was because of a clatter in the kitchen. You yawned and sat up, stretching, eyebrows furrowing when you realized Bucky wasn’t with you. It took you a moment to remember your conversation, which you half thought you dreamt.

“Boys!”

“Sorry!”

You chuckled at the shouts, rubbing your eyes. “I am so sorry!” Sarah apologized, looking over at you from the stove. Trying to make the boys breakfast before school. Do you want anything? Eggs? Cereal? Toast?”

“Uh, cereal’s fine.” You stretched out your back again, before throwing back the covers and standing up, a little shakily.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where Sam went, would you?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Uh, I think him and Bucky went to fix something on the boat. I don’t for sure, though.”

Sarah groaned. “He probably went to fix the stupid water pump which doens’t need fixing. Dumbass.”

You chuckled, padding over into the kitchen. “Yeah. I just work with him. I can’t imagine growing up with him.”

“Trust me; some days you want to throw him in a box and send him out to sea. Bowls are in that cupboard.”

You snickered, moving over to grab a bowl from the cupboard she pointed to. “That’s how I feel with Bucky. Sam is less often, but when those two get together…it’s a full zoo.”

She laughed at that, nodding as she got out the milk and a few boxes of cereal for you to choose from, handing you a spoon. “That I believe.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

You started pouring your cereal, watching in slight amusement as she got the boys ready for school. “Bus is here! Get out the door! Bye! Love you! Make sure you take those extra lunches to-!”

“Yeah, mom! We know! Love you too!”

You gave a slight smirk as she huffed, looking around the kitchen at the pans and dishes left out. “Kids, huh?”

She gave you a smile. “Yeah. They’re a handful, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything. How about you? Any thoughts of kids?”

“Me?” Your eyes widened, nearly choking on your food. “Oh God no. Not right now, at least. I don’t even have a solid house right now. My life’s too off the walls for that.”

“And Bucky?”

You raised an eyebrow as she leaned on the counter. “Bucky? What about Bucky?”

“Does he want kids?”

“Uh…I dunno.” You shrugged, clearing your throat as you remembered your talk last night. “Kinda makes me wish I had my own.” You quickly pushed his words aside. “He hasn’t told me.”

“Wait, wait. You two…aren’t together then?”

You blinked, your eyes widening again. “Together? Me and Bucky? No…why? Did Sam say something?”

Her expression morphed into one of disbelief, crossing her arms. “Sam didn’t say anything. You guys did. Are you seriously expecting me to believe you aren’t together?”

“We’re not! I mean - he was flirting with you yesterday-”

“Right, okay. Honey, that’s flirting. And it’s harmless. The way he follows you like a puppy and you look at him like he hung the stars? That’s feelings. And that’s a lot more impactful than flirting.”

You frowned in contemplation. It was really that obvious? You were really that blind? This whole time? You knew Sam knew - but you just figured that’s because he’s been there since it started. And Sharon knew for the same reason. But Sarah? The woman you just met the day prior and had barely had a conversation with?

“It’s, uh…” You chewed on your cheek, swirling your cereal around. “It’s complicated.”

Sarah didn’t look impressed. “Do you like him?”

“I’m kinda in love with him-”

She shrugged, not letting you finish your bashful statement. “Then I don’t see what’s complicated about it.”

And that was that. She turned to clean up breakfast, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You thought it was more complicated than that. I mean…you were in love with your best friend. Who left you. With the guy you had feelings for who just so happened to be your best friend/crush’s best friend. And now you were completely in love with your best friend’s best friend, but your best friend still had a piece of your heart.

But…you loved Bucky. And he was here. And Steve was not. And when you put it that way…you guess it wasn’t so complicated after all.

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

You snickered as you walked up behind Sarah, the woman berating the men for not leaving the water pump along like she asked.

“Hi, Sarah.”

Sam shot Bucky a warning look, who grinned, but you were surprised to see Sarah ignore him, sending you a knowing glance instead, before turning back to Sam. “I told you specifically that the water pump was not the problem, and yet, here you are.”

“Yep, Samuel.”

You chuckled, Bucky shooting you a wink. “Yeah, Samuel.”

Sam narrowed his eyes at you, turning to Sarah. “In our defense, you were supposed to be done long before you woke up.”

You nearly facepalmed at his “defensive” and you were trying so hard to hold back laughing as she told Sam off, sending them away.

“I don’t wanna hear a peep from you.” Sam pointed at you, but that only made your chortles come out, and you didn’t even bother hiding them. “She’s a very mean person.”

“It’s tough love.”

You giggled as they started arguing, slipping an arm around their waists, their arms instinctually coming up to your shoulders.

“Oh my God. A prowess?”

“Yes, Y/N. A prowess.”

“You know, maybe if you someone let me help-”

“Hey, woah! You were tired! I let you sleep! I was being nice!”

“Too late now. I’ll be lucky if Sarah lets me within a hundred feet of it!”

“She got you so good, Sammy!”

“I agree with Buck for once! You’re too snippy right now! And c’mon man! Stop flirting with my sister!”

“It’s my natural charm.”

“Charm? What charm?”

“Ouch, doll! That one hurt!”

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

“Okay.” You stepped out of the bathroom, walking over to the couch and setting the bag down on it. “I’ve got everything packed. We’ve got a little over an hour until we need to head out which gives you two time to go set something up for Sammy and maybe even a bit or training before we leave.”

Bucky frowned. “You’re not gonna come out?”

“I will in a bit. I just got a phone call I need to take.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Government call?”

You gave a mocking smile. “Can you guess what they want to talk about? It’s okay. I’ll survive. It’s only a phone call, so I can always hang up. Pretend I didn’t have good service. I do it all the time.”

“I’m sure you do.” Sam chuckled. “In that case, I’m gonna go grab some stuff and get the shield.” As he walked out, he made sure to mouth at you behind Bucky’s back ‘conversation’ making you swallow thickly. You were planning on talking to Bucky anyways, and with Sam’s insistence…

“Okay, so, I was thinking when we get back-”

“Can I talk to you?”

Bucky stopped digging through the bag, blinking at you in surprise at your sudden burst. “Uh…well, we already are, so yes.” He chuckled, straightening and crossing his arms.

“I wanna have the conversation.”

He was left stunned, once again, his mouth opening and closing and his weight shifting form one foot to the other. “Like…that conversation? R-right now? Are you sure?”

You winced at her nervousness. “Sorry, sorry. I know it’s kinda…I just…I need to talk about it. Now.”

“Okay, okay. No, that’s fine. Don’t apologize. I just wasn’t expecting it.” Bucky cleared his throat. “That’s all.”

“Okay…” You breathed with a small nod. You opened your mouth, but Bucky shook his head.

“I hafta say this first; I didn’t mean to hurt you by telling you about Steve. I-I dunno what I thought. That it’d give you closure or something. I dunno. But it hurt you and I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention.”

“Buck-”

“I was jealous. And guilty. And mad. And upset. I still am. Kinda. I guess. I dunno.” Bucky shook his head, running his hand through his hair and all you could do was gape at him as he started confessing to you. “Remember when we danced? In Madripoor? Doll…I don’t wanna dance ever again if it’s not with you. I fucking love you, Y/N. And not in the way we’ve said it before. I’m in love with you. I have been for-for a while now. I just - you were Steve’s. Steve loved you and you loved Steve and that was that and I was just the broken childhood best friend. But Steve left and he told me to take care of you and I didn’t know what to do with that, because you still love Steve. I think. I dunno. And I didn’t want to break what we have because you’re all I have left of him. You and that stupid shield. You’re my family. My home. I really meant it when I told you that. And that’s why I couldn’t tell you. Because it means too much for me to break what we have because I fell in love with my best friend’s girl. You know?”

He looked at you with pleading eyes, begging you to understand, but your brain was still trying to process what he was telling you.

“Oh God…” He groaned. “And now I just told you everything and you’re looking at me like that wasn’t what you wanted to hear and now I’m thinking this wasn’t the conversation you were thinking it was going to be-”

You were moving across the room before you could stop yourself, pulling him by the teal Henley you knew was comfortable having worn it to bed before when you visited him in New York, and slanting your lips over his.

His breathing hitched and he froze, and for a hot second you thought you made everything worse, but then he was kissing you back and his hands were on your hips and he was pulling you closer and it felt so fucking good you didn’t want to pull back for air.

“Shut up.” You muttered when you finally did pull back, your forehead against his, your eyes clenched shut. “Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up.” You pulled back to look up at him, chests heaving against each other, your eyes prickling. “I’m not good at this. I’m not good at opening up. I only ever was good at it with Steve but Bucky…I’ve been doing it with you. This whole time and I didn’t even realize it until the conversation in the car.”

He reached up to cup your cheeks, wiping away the relieved tears that were falling from the weight you were finally getting off your chest.

“I love you. I’m in love with you. How could I not be? After all that time in Wakanda? I was never Steve’s girl, Bucky. I wanted to be. Dammit, did I wanna be, but I wasn’t. Not really. And he’s gone. But you’re not. And I don’t know why it took me so long to see that. That you’re the one in front of me. You’re the one who held me when I needed it once he left. You’re the one that would listen to my rambles that I’m just realizing was most of our phone calls. You’re not just the broken childhood friend. Don’t ever think that. I don’t pick up the phone at five in the morning after searching for a friend until two for just anyone. Even Steve’s best friend. And I’m such an idiot because I’ve been pushing away my feelings all these years for Steve and then I let them out with you at the wrong time, because I love Steve, Bucky, but I’m not in love with him. Not since I fell in love with you. And I know it doesn’t make sense, but Steve was the first one I cared about and that’s just how I feel and I can try to explain, but-”

His lips crashed onto yours again and you could taste the salty tears that were pouring down your cheeks, but you didn’t care. He was holding you and he was kissing you and it was even more perfect than you thought it’d be.

“You’re adorable when you ramble, but Jesus Christ, shuddup, doll.” He breathed. “Just tell me you love me. Tell me you love me just a fraction of how much I love you.”

You looked up into those ocean eyes, your own shining with earnest affection. “James Buchanan Barnes. I love you.”

“That’s all I need to know.” He murmured against your lips, holding your head against his, still wiping away your tears. It felt like with each one that fell, you felt lighter and lighter. Like they were taking away every fear and anxiety you held within you for the past six months.

“Alright! I was thinking we could just set up in these trees out here - holy shit! Is it done? Did you do it? Did I miss it? Has the conversation been had?”

Bucky chuckled as you giggled. “He has the worst timing.” The last two words were loud enough so Sam could hear, although the man heard the whole sentence.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes!” Sam cheered. “Halle-fucking-lujah! Finally! I was that close to locking you two in the attic.”

You shook your head at Sam’s personal celebration, drowning the rest of his words out as you looked at Bucky, who swept his thumb over your cheek catching one last tear, before pecking your lips.

“I finally get to kiss where I really want to.” He spoke softly, kissing your lips again. “Are you mine, doll?”

“I thought you said I’d always be your doll.” You answered cheekily. He grinned, kissing you again, pulling you against him by the hips.

“Okay, okay! That’s enough! We get it! You’re in love, finally, but I don’t wanna see it anymore! Now will you come help me with this shit?”

Bucky left one more lingering kiss on your lips, before you pushed him away reluctantly. “I’ll be right out.”

He nodded, moving over to help Sam carry the things he’d gathered.

You watched them put it all up from the window, gnawing on your cheek as you spun your phone in your hands. Coming to a decision, you tossed your phone in the duffle bag and walked out with it just as the boys finished.

“That was a quick phone call.” Sam raised an eyebrow.

You shrugged. “Didn’t call them. If they really need me, they’ll find me.”

Bucky grinned as you set the bag down under a tree, pecking your lips when you got close enough for him to grab by the waist to hold you against him. You rolled your eyes, shoving him playfully away and giggling as Sam let out a groan.

“Alright. Let’s see what you’ve got, Sammy.”

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Bucky knew he needed the tough love talk Sam was giving him. He needed to hear it. Because, deep down, he had known it all along, he just refused to believe it. He tried doing it. Making amends. He knew he wasn’t though. And of course he knew immediately who that one person would be.

“And hey.” Bucky looked at him. “Let me tell you what. Telling my girl all that you told her? That’s a good start. I’m proud of you. Both of you. You’re already happier. I can see it in your eyes.”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head as he thought of the gorgeous woman he nearly let slip through his fingers. He looked over to the house, where she was inside somewhere getting ready after suddenly deciding she needed to shower before they left. “I was stupid.”

“Yeah you were. You both were. I’m so relieved it’s over.” Sam nudged him. “Treat her right, Buck. She deserves it.”

“I know…I just hope I can.”

Sam shook his head. “Uh-uh. Don’t do that. You were just starting to use that cyborg brain of yours! She chose you. And before you say anything,” Sam cut Bucky off from speaking as he opened his mouth to object. “She chose you before Steve left. It just took her dumbass this long to realize it.”

Bucky nodded, a small smile on his face. “Yeah…okay…” Before he could say anything, the goddess herself stepped out, jogging over, looking absolutely amazing in her jeans and his t-shirt. “Good talk.”

Sam laughed at his quick ending of the conversation as she came up besides them. “Talking about me?” She asked cheekily, eyes shining. Bucky couldn’t help but take her under his arm, pecking her lips. Now that he could, he didn’t think he could stop. He was addicted to say the least.

Throwing Bucky a wink, Sam shrugged. “Just all the things that get on our nerves.”

“Ha ha.” She rolled her eyes. “We better get going.”

Bucky and Sam clapped hands. “You know Karli won’t quit.”

Bucky smiled. “Ah. You call us when you have a lead and we’ll be there.”

Y/N stepped forwards to give Sam a hug. “Anytime, Sammy.”

“Eh. Anytime between noon and midnight.” Bucky corrected. “Or noon and ten. Noon and five…you better just call at noon to be safe.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Sure, sure.”

“Not necessarily as a team.” Bucky continued, grabbing the bag, getting Y/N back in her spot at his side under his arm.

“Nope!”

“We’re not that good.”

“Definitely not.”

“We’re professionals.”

“Definitely.”

“And, uh, we’re partners.”

Sam snapped, pointing at him. “Coworkers.”

“But we’re also a couple of guys with a couple mutual friends.”

“Ones now gone and you’re dating the other.”

“So we’re a couple of guys…with a badass to help out.”

“I can live with that.”

“Perfect.”

“Oh my God.” Y/N let out that laugh Bucky could never get enough of, shaking her head at the two of them. “You forgot dumbasses.”

Sam shook his head. “Nuh-uh. That’s your couple name.”

“Dumbasses?”

“Oh yeah.” The three of them came to a stop, Bucky and his girl - God he loved confirming it now - facing Sam. “Thanks for the help, guys. Meant a lot.”

Bucky patted his shoulder. “Of course.”

Y/N shot him a wink. “Until we meet again, Sammy.”

“Until then, cher.”

Bucky couldn’t stop his grin as she wrapped her arms around his waist, the two of them starting to walk to the main road where she already ordered an Uber. He looked down at her, kissing her lips for the nth time in the past hour.

“I wish I didn’t wait so long,” he told her seriously. “But I’d wait a thousands more centuries if it meant I get to call you mine.”

She giggled, shaking her head. “You’re such a sap! But…” she moved up to kiss him and his heart stuttered. He knew he had a goofy grin on when she pulled back, but he couldn’t help it. Especially when she laughed again. “I have to agree with you on that, Buckaroo.”

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yoonia · 2 years

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slow dancing ● chapter vii

➬ Title | Slow Dancing: a mini series

➬ Summary | When your countdown appeared on your wrist right on the morning of your eighteenth birthday, you had thought that perhaps the universe was on your side, especially since the final seconds were already ticking so soon. You just never expected to have your first meeting with your soulmate to be the day when you had to let him go. But hope was not lost when you still found love without the bond, and Jungkook showed you that it was possible to find happiness beyond the system that was written for you. Except that the universe doesn’t seem to have enough of its game, when your past sacrifice comes back hitting you straight in the face, just when you had believed that you had written off the perfect ending to your bittersweet tale.

↳ Pairings | Jungkook x reader / Namjoon x reader

↳ Genre | Soulmate!au, Second Chances!au, Angst, Eventual Smut

➥ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; for sexual tension, making out scene, kissing, explicit (kinda?) sexual scene, implied first time sex, unprotected sex.

➥ Word count | 12k words

➥ Chapter List | Glossary | ⤎ Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ⇢

➥ Masterlist

➥ Author’s note | Finally, a long chapter! I had to stop myself from splitting this one into two chapters because I didn’t want to ruin the context when this part seems to hold a lot of things that are important to the story. Thank you for your patience with this one, I hope you’ll enjoy reading this chapter :)

chapter vii. then we fall

Speak now or forever hold your peace.

You have heard this line many times before spoken in some of those Western movies that you have watched in the past, mostly happening in the wedding scenes, where some random hero would then jump to their feet and say something that would later send the entire plot into motion. You have no recollection of hearing these words anywhere or anytime in real life, to ever hear them used to force someone to speak the truth or to spill any life-altering secrets in the eyes of the public that might turn someone’s entire world tilting off its axis.

In all honesty, you had never truly known what these words truly meant or what they could do. Not until now, as you recount them to yourself, repeating the line in your head as many times as you need to until the words finally sink in.

Speak now.

Or forever hold your silence.

And forever keep the person you truly love in the dark about your circumstances and how your lives are going to change.

At first, you had planned to talk to Jungkook and reveal everything before the new year comes, as the thought of starting the new year with lies had made you feel like a terrible person. But your work and Jungkook’s busy schedule had forced you to push the entire problem to the back of your mind, then New Year’s Eve came and went, followed by the trips to visit both of your families for the New Year ceremony and the weekend you spent reuniting with your extended family. The events just kept on lining up from one to another, leaving you no chance to find the perfect time to talk and be completely honest with him about your soulmate.

And now that you have returned to Seoul, with no more obstacles coming in your way until your work schedules would start taking over your life again, it seems like you would no longer have any excuse to put this off any longer. You have no idea how he would react, but you certainly cannot imagine keeping this secret for the rest of your lives together. You have already kept this secret for far too long already as it is.

And with Jungkook returning to work right the moment you came back from your trip, the possibility of you crossing paths with Namjoon in the future will only grow bigger, and the chances of the secret unfolding itself to Jungkook—and most possibly getting him hurt even more because of it—will surely grow stronger.

Which is why I need to tell him tonight.

Glancing at the clock hanging on the wall while you are busy fixing up tonight’s dinner, you silently pray that everything is going to go well tonight. At least, you have hopes that by making his favourite dish tonight, it will make it easier for you to smooth things out before you would have to reveal everything. From the outside, you might seem calm, keeping it together while you are handling everything in the kitchen. Inside, however, you are a complete mess.

The moment you are done, you begin to pace around in your wait. Minutes pass by, and Jungkook has yet to walk through the front door when he would usually be home around this hour. He rarely stays late without letting you know about it and is never one to stay the night at the studio like his other co-workers, so you cannot help it when in your wait, your mind immediately launches into wondering about all the things that might have happened to keep him away. The longer you wait, the more nervous you become. Your stomach coils with uncertainty and dread that you cannot seem to shake off.

What if something had gone wrong? What if he had somehow found out and decided not to come home? How have you never thought of this possibility before?

You shake your head, refusing to accept the possibility of it happening, yet the foreboding feeling continues to creep inside you, growing worse with each passing second that you are waiting for him to come home. Soon enough, somewhere between the continuous pacing back and forth, you begin to realise that the unsettling feeling is not coming from him being late or for worrying about the reason why, but from the fact that you are dreading the moment you are supposed to talk to him.

You have been nervous about it for the longest time, and now that you are about to tell him the whole truth, possibly jeopardising everything that you had built together with him for years, the feeling becomes unbearable to deal with.

And the wait is only making it even worse.

Just when you are about to give up, the phone starts vibrating in your hand, and his text message appears on the screen. Though the words that you receive from him aren’t exactly making it possible for you to feel relieved yet.

Jungkook: Baby, something’s come up. I might be home late tonight

Holding your breath, you carefully text back a reply,

Me: what’s wrong, baby?

It doesn’t take long for Jungkook to reply back to you.

Jungkook: Nothing’s wrong, it’s just work. We have to go through another mixing session for the last track

Jungkook: the head producer found something missing with the last recording so we’re redoing the recording

His answer finally draws a relieved sigh out of you. You are quick to feel calm now that you have heard from him, though you still cannot shake the disappointment of having your plans ruined for the night.

Me: I’m so sorry, baby

Me: have you eaten yet? I made dinner :(

Jungkook: Shit. I’m sorry.

Jungkook: no, I’ve been in the studio all night. Will order something later.

Me: No, don’t you dare. You’ll get sick again like the last time you ordered that Jajangmyeon for late dinner

Jungkook: oh, right. Maybe I can order something else?

Dropping down on the nearest chair that you can find, you bite your lips and ponder for a moment as an idea comes through your head.

Me: What if I just drop the meal at your studio tonight?

Jungkook: really? I don’t want to trouble you, baby

Jungkook: but if you can keep me company while I eat, then it’ll be fine

Sucking a deep breath, you begin to question the options.

Will it be fine, though?

Will he be there?

Shaking your head, you decide that there is no turning back. You don’t need to have another reason to put this off any longer. Even if you might miss out on a chance to talk to him privately in case his co-workers are there with him tonight, at least you will still get a chance to see him and feel better for seeing that he is okay.

Me: I’ll pack things up quickly and Uber my way to you

Jungkook: Fuck, I’m a lucky man. I’ll be waiting <3

You have been to this place a bunch of times before that the security guy at the lobby recognises you the moment you step through the front door. He only greets you with a cheerful smile before giving you the entrance access to come up on Jungkook’s floor.

“Sending out dinner for the big man?” the security guy teases you as he glances down at the bag you are holding, making you laugh.

“The perks of having a busy fiancé,” you answer him jokingly with a shrug, while the man nods at you after guiding you to the elevator lobby.

“He’s up in the studio. He’s been at it for hours, the second elevator will take you straight up.”

“Thank you!”

This late in the evening, despite knowing that there are probably still others up there working in different studios, the ride up towards his floor feels so quiet. Too quiet, even, that you can almost hear the sound of your palpitating heart echoing against the walls inside the moving elevator. You are glad that you have nobody else riding up with you, however, because there is no way anyone would miss the way you are practically shaking from head to toe out of nerves. If only you don’t have your fingers wrapped around the bag filled with boxes of food, practically clutching it against you, you know that you would be fidgeting and pulling your hands together by now.

Take a deep breath, you remind yourself as the elevator slows on his floor, and you step out carefully in fear that you would stumble, keeping your footsteps light as you walk down the hallway to find his studio.

The studio that Jungkook has always used isn’t the biggest or the fanciest one on this floor, and he wasn’t originally given his own personal space until recently, when he managed to prove himself worthy with the success of the tracks that he released not too long after he joined the company. Your body moves on autopilot as you march down the long hallway, finding his studio right at the end, marked with the animated bunny sticker plastered on the glass door. After you had contacted him that you were on your Uber ride with his dinner, he had told you to just come right in, regardless of the possibility of him being too busy to notice. That is why the moment you find the door left slightly ajar, you simply knock on it gently a few times and push it wider without any question.

Except that the moment you step through the door, the person you find standing in the middle of the room isn’t your fiancé, but somebody else whose eyes immediately grow wide at your presence before he steels his gaze on you.

“Hello,” he greets you with his deep voice. The voice that stirs the insides of your stomach, making your gut swirl and your mind spin like crazy that you have to grip tightly on the door handle to stop yourself from swaying on your feet.

Snapping out of it, you raise your chin and force yourself to look into his eyes. “I thought—” you try to speak, stopping short when your voice comes out as nothing but a gasp. Clearing your throat, you avoid his gaze to find your voice again. “Jungkook said you haven’t been around.”

Namjoon’s face remains unreadable and distant as he nods, and for some reason, you hate not being able to know what he is thinking about. “I was out of town, yes. But I got back a couple of days before New Year’s Eve.”

“Right,” you choke out your answer and nod. “I should probably go. I shouldn’t be here.”

Hearing this, Namjoon tilts his head and asks you curiously, “Why shouldn’t you? Maybe you should stay. Jungkook wouldn’t be gone for long.” You dare yourself to look into his eyes just then, noticing how his eyes darken when he easily says, “Or maybe we can talk while we’re both here.”

You wish that you could laugh or scoff at his offer, but it is hard to do so when your words seem to get caught in your throat and your body is doing all the silly things that you cannot handle—like fluttering for no reason from hearing his voice alone. “Talk? About what?” you finally ask him. You had intended to sound bitter, and yet your voice only softens when you speak.

Perhaps that is why his gaze softens just a notch—so does his voice—when he speaks again, “You know what we should be talking about. It’s been years overdue, don’t you think?”

This time, you manage to scoff at him. “Am I the one to blame for that?”

“No, absolutely not,” he says as he looks at you with a mix of regret and a bit of a humorous look in his eyes. Though he quickly changes his expression when he asks, “But we can’t keep going on pretending like nothing is happening, right?”

You have nothing to say to respond to him because he is right. And you hate that he is right. As much as you want to move on and forget everything, to keep on living while acting like meeting him had never happened, the circumstances that you are both in would never allow you to.

Not when Jungkook is involved.

Resigning with a sigh, you enter the room slowly and close the door behind you, secluding both of you inside so that whatever you are about to say to each other would never leave this place. “Fine. Let’s talk,” you tell him as you place the bag filled with your home-cooked dinner on the table and cross your arms over your chest, using them as a protective shield.

Lowering his head, Namjoon rubs his chin as he takes a moment to think. For a moment, you feel a sense of relief for seeing that you are not the only one who is left speechless and at a loss at this. But then he looks up, only to have his gaze falling on your wrist. A flash of recognition comes into his eyes when he sees your soulmate mark.

The mark that is sneakily showing itself as the long sleeves of your sweater is pulled back when you absentmindedly lift your left hand to touch your hair out of nerves.

Right at that moment, a glint of anger rises from him, shown by the way his jaw is clenching tightly, when he realises that you had tried to cover the initials of his name with a drawing of a leaf that would have seen completely out of place if someone had looked closer.

“Does Jungkook know?” he asks while scanning through your face, and a knowing look passes through his eyes to what he finds in your eyes. “You haven’t told him, have you?”

Falling silent, you look away from him briefly. There is no need for him to elaborate on his question. He realises that Jungkook has yet to figure out that it was his initials written on your wrist. Pressing your lips together, you hide the shame that is trying to crawl all over your face before admitting, “No, I haven’t.”

Again, Namjoon answers you with a nod. “I had suspected that would be the case. Jungkook has always been quite upfront when it comes to voicing his thoughts and seeking answers, always speaking his mind when he needs to, and yet he hasn’t mentioned anything about the connection we share when I have no doubt that he had gotten a good look at your soulmate mark.”

Just then, you run your gaze down to his wrist, finding him doing the same as what you have been doing by covering his tattoo with the sleeve of his shirt. And yet you can still see the red petals peeking from the unbuttoned cuffs, as if the tattoo is silently mocking you with its existence. Seeing him here, standing in the middle of Jungkook’s studio, you can suddenly picture them working together and sitting side by side, and your heart drops.

“Have he seen your mark, then?” you find yourself asking, suddenly feeling like an idiot for not even considering the possibility of Jungkook seeing his mark and recognising it as the identical twin to your tattoo.

At your question, Namjoon looks down and lifts his arm, allowing you to see his soulmate mark more clearly before he slowly fixes his cuffs to cover them. “No, I’ve been covering it since the tattoo appeared. He had noticed that I have the tattoo, though. But I don’t think he has ever had the chance to have a good look at it to recognise it yet.”

Even if you are not quite sure if that is true, knowing how perceptive Jungkook could be, you still accept his answer by nodding your head slowly.

“We were supposed to meet that night years ago, back in college,” Namjoon calmly says, though you can still sense the underlying question in his words.

“The only thing that changed that night was having my timer stopping and this—mark, appearing on my wrist after seeing you in that house,” you tell him while waving your left arm, flashing the tattoo to his eyes. Then you look straight into his eyes and add, “After I heard everything you said. Every word, every promise, the lengthy explanation you gave to your friend about why you didn’t want to have a soulmate and why it didn’t matter if fate wanted you to welcome someone into your life when you had something else in mind.”

Namjoon swallows hard. “So, you were there—” he says, sighing deeply as he lowers his head. “That explains everything.”

His voice is low as he mutters those words, but you can still hear it. You tilt your head at him questioningly when he looks at you again, not sure what he had meant by it. As if he knows what you are silently asking him, he calmly explains everything to you.

“My timer did stop that night, right when it reached zero seconds. But it simply froze up and the soulmate mark didn’t show up until that night when I saw you at Bovine.”

Frowning, your eyes find his wrist again as you imagine how he could have had a different experience to yours with the mark. “How is that possible?”

Laughing bitterly, Namjoon shakes his head and shrugs. “The only theory that I can make out of it is that it happened because I didn’t see you.”

You look at him and scoff. “I’ve figured as much. You were too preoccupied at the time to notice me there, after all,” you tell him, before pressing your lips together to hold back the words that almost come slipping out of you when you are suddenly taken back to that night, the events from then begin unfolding inside your head once again.

Too busy rejecting me. Too engrossed in welcoming another girl into your arms when the one you were supposed to be waiting for was standing merely a few feet away.

“Why didn’t you just show up and come up to me?” he suddenly asks you, though there is a strain in his voice when he says them. “You could’ve let me know that you were there.”

With an incredulous laugh coming out of you, you respond to him with, “Show up to do what, exactly? To humiliate myself by approaching you when you had clearly just flat out rejected me? Did you want me to beg? As if I would just walk up to you after you embarrassed me right in front of all those strangers who were listening to your rant about how much you hated the thought of accepting a soulmate and while you were busy shoving your tongue into some other girl’s mouth!”

“I didn’t know you were there!” he snaps, and it pushes you further into your rage.

“Your timer showed you that we were meeting each other! What did you expect, that fate would randomly decide to change its mind and cancel everything because you didn’t want it to happen yet?”

Namjoon runs his fingers through his hair with a frustrated groan. Just when you expect him to yell even harder at you, he releases a deep sigh and looks at you in the eyes. “I admit my mistake. I own up to it. I was an idiot and I’m sorry that you had to witness all of that,” he says, somehow finding his calm, not knowing how his deep voice continues to rise the odd flutters in your chest that you wish you could brush off just so you can think more clearly. “I regret that it had been the reason why you and Jungkook met each other that night. But as much as I refused to have faith in the universe back then, I would like to believe that there is a reason why our paths must cross once again and why we are meeting each other again this way after so long has passed.”

His words shouldn’t affect you in any way. You had told yourself that you would be strong enough to fight it, but deep down, you find some truth in everything that he just said to you. It is not enough to sway your heart, though it still has your head spinning. And yet that is not the reason why you are feeling wary and on the edge.

You had only experienced meeting him in person twice before tonight.

The first one being in that frat house, with him standing in the kitchen while you were hidden in the shades just outside of the doorway. The second one was at the dinner, on the same night you had accepted your lover’s proposal, unknowingly doing so right in front of your ‘true’ soulmate, just like how he had unknowingly spoken his words of rejection right to your face.

This would be the first time you are standing in the same exact room as he is. To be in this close proximity that you can breathe in a whiff of his cologne and feel the rumbling in your chest that comes from his deep voice. Everything else seems muted as you listen to his voice until the only thing that you can sense is his presence.

As he is speaking to you, almost immediately, you feel as if you are under compulsion, lured and entranced by the sound of his voice that you unconsciously take a step closer to him, and then another, and another, until you are less than an arm’s length away from each other.

“What are you doing to me?” you ask him with a gasp, barely catching yourself just when you are about to take another step towards him.

With a grim look on his face and an odd glint showing in his eyes, Namjoon easily answers you with, “It’s the soulmate bond pulling us towards each other.”

You press your lips together, frowning when you are annoyed at yourself for not being able to fight this. Annoyed to see that he barely shows any reaction at all. “I don’t see you moving.”

He grits his teeth, and his eyes grow darker when he says, “You’re not looking close enough.”

Looking down between you both, you finally realise that you are not the only one that has been moving. Just like how you had unconsciously moved further away from the door, Namjoon no longer stands close to the empty seats in front of Jungkook’s computer. Just like you, he had moved a few steps away and much closer to you, and the only thing keeping him together is the tight clench of his fists on either side of his body which seem to be shaking as he holds himself back.

Snapping out of it, you jump a step backwards with a gasp. “This means nothing. You know that, right?”

With a scoff leaving his mouth, Namjoon sneers at you and says, “The soulmate marks are showing otherwise. The way our bodies are reacting to this also proves it. Everything that is happening now only shows that we’re the intended pair.”

His words make you laugh in disbelief. “Seriously? Well, it meant nothing to you back then, so why does it matter now? I’m with Jungkook now, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“He stole you from me!” he suddenly says, nearly shouting as the volume of his voice rises in anger, which only ignites your own.

“You rejected me!” you snap at him. Pointing your finger at him, you continue to voice your frustration, giving him the reality check that he seems to be ignoring. “You made the choice. I moved on. I took what was given to me and never looked back. If you decide that you want something different now, then it’s on you. Whatever fate wanted for us ended when you wanted nothing from it and it doesn’t change just because we finally meet each other because I’ve made my choice.”

Namjoon falls silent instead of responding to you. The silence simply grows thicker just as the tension rises, but you somehow feel like the weight that you have been carrying has been passed on.

“If that’s all you have to say and if there’s nothing more to talk about, then I think I should leave. I’ll let Jungkook know that I’ve already dropped his dinner here,” you tell him with a sigh, barely looking his way before you turn away to leave.

Just as you are about to reach for the door, Namjoon stops you by questioning, “What happens if he finds out?”

With a quick inhale of breath, you look over your shoulder to answer. “I won’t hide anything from him. He will know everything about our—predicament. I will tell him everything that he needs to know. If I can’t do it tonight, then I will eventually find a way to let him know,” you say to him while looking at him in the eyes, keeping your voice firm and calm when you add, “And he will understand that I am not leaving.”

Namjoon clenches his jaw. “Is that right? Then I guess we’ll see what happens then.”

You say nothing else to him just then, choosing to turn away and open the door to leave, only to stop with a gasp when you find your lover standing right on the other side of the doorway with his eyes opened wide and his hand reaching out as if he was just about to enter the studio.

“Jungkook—”

Jungkook had no idea what to expect when he returned to the studio.

It wasn’t that he had deliberately left the room when he knew you were coming. He just couldn’t exactly refuse when his producer had asked him to come and check the archive files in another studio before they could continue their mixing process tonight. He had thought that he would only be leaving for a short while, thinking that he should finish up what he could so that he could wait for you without any disruption. He hadn’t expected that he would be away for so long, and it shouldn’t have taken him by surprise to find that you had arrived while he was still out.

The only thing that he was not expecting to find was to see that Namjoon had been in the studio to wait for him as well.

He still has no idea what happened while he was gone, but he knows that something must have gone down. All the years he spent being together with you had allowed him to learn how to read your moods and to see the signs when something is wrong—from the way your shoulders would tense when you are holding back your emotions, to the way he can feel your rage rolling out of you even when you fake a smile and pretend that things are okay.

It was easy for him to see how upset you were when you were stepping out of the studio, barely able to avoid colliding against him when he was just about to enter at the same time, though he cannot even begin to think of what could have been the reason for you to be on the edge or if it had anything to do with Namjoon being in the studio when you came in.

And now, he can feel the tension in the room growing so thick that Jungkook can imagine himself cutting through it with a knife just to be able to breathe. Namjoon had excused himself earlier, only for Jungkook to stop him from leaving. He has no idea why he did it, other than the fact that he had always wanted his good friend and his fiancé to get along. But now, as he is sitting together with you by his side on the small couch at the corner of the studio to enjoy the dinner that you had made for him, sharing a few dishes with Namjoon who is sitting across from him, he can feel the tension coming stronger from you, and he begins to question if he had made a mistake of inviting his friend to stay.

“…glad I decided to add in some extra rice just in case you needed more since I know you always get hungry while you’re working, so we can share with your friend,” your voice snaps him back to the present, and he quickly smiles at you, feeling grateful that you had gone through so much trouble in cooking for him and to bring them all the way here, though the way you seem so nervous when you were speaking doesn’t sit well with him.

He chalks it off by thinking that perhaps it is all due to Namjoon being here, which is the reason why he has been trying his best to lighten things up so that everyone will feel more comfortable around each other.

“This is all so good, babe. You’ve gone through so much trouble for this. Thank you,” he says to you while he looks over everything that you had set up for him. He is surprised to see that you have cooked so much that he begins to wonder if he had missed out on something that you may have wanted to celebrate tonight. But then he looks over to notice that you had barely eaten enough when you had let him and Namjoon enjoy the meal more. “Are you sure you’re eating enough? You should eat more. You shouldn’t worry about us, we can get something else later if we need some snacks.”

“It’s fine. I ate a little before coming here,” you answer him with a small grin, and for some reason, Jungkook can feel that you are lying. He silently wonders if it has anything to do with how uncomfortable you seem that you can barely sit still.

As if you are on the verge of running.

“There’s still more at home, so I can eat later while I wait for you to come home if I want to,” you answer him, barely glancing at Namjoon as you offer them to finish the remaining dishes.

Thinking that you are simply nervous around his friend, still not familiar with Namjoon’s presence, he simply lets things go. The dinner continues with light chats shared between the three of you and slowly, the tension begins to dwindle even though you are still keeping your answers short and courteous whenever Jungkook tries to get you and Namjoon to talk and open up more.

Before Jungkook realises it, the dinner ends too soon. You don’t even waste time and start cleaning up the mess, packing up the empty boxes of food and the utensils that you had brought him before you quietly pack up your purse and put on your jacket again. “I should probably go home and get out of your way so you can continue working.”

Surprised to see you rushing to leave, Jungkook quickly grabs your hand to stop you. “Are you sure? It’s late. I know that watching me work might get boring, but maybe we can get home together?”

Looking up at him, you only give him a small smile. “I don’t want to be on your way. I can order an Uber to take me home. It’s fine.”

“Why don’t I call my driver to take you instead?” Namjoon suddenly speaks, surprising both you and Jungkook with his offer, while Jungkook can feel you once again growing tense once he speaks. Though your odd reaction becomes the last thing in his mind when he finds himself feeling uneasy about something else. He had been wondering why Namjoon has been more curious and attentive about you, and this attention doesn’t exactly sit well in his gut. As if the man can sense that Jungkook is somewhat feeling uncomfortable about the offer, Namjoon turns to him then and explains, “I won’t be needing the driver until I’m done here, so might as well have him get your fiancé home safely, don’t you think?”

“That won’t be necessary. But thank you for the offer,” you quickly refuse before Jungkook can even ask if you would be interested in it or to even question himself if he is okay with Namjoon offering so much for you. Without saying anything else, you rise from your seat, nodding at Namjoon as you say to him in a tense voice, “It was nice seeing you again.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Jungkook tells you as you quickly turn away before Namjoon could respond. Jungkook follows you to the door, rushing as he calls out to his friend on his way out, “Be right back.”

“Take your time,” Namjoon says in return. From the corner of his eyes, Jungkook can swear in his life that he sees his friend’s shoulders slumping in relief the moment you walk out the door, though the man’s eyes seem to refuse to look away from you.

Neither of you says a thing as you walk down the hallway together, though Jungkook keeps your hand in his, refusing to let go of any contact when you somehow feel so distant. The elevator lobby is empty at this time at night, and Jungkook takes the chance to pull you to him when you stop walking, pressing you against his chest as his lips descend onto yours. He cannot understand what is happening to him, but all of a sudden, he is overwhelmed with the urge to claim you, to connect with you, and to show you how deeply he cares for you, and he shows it all through his kiss.

To his relief, you instantly melt into the kiss. Your whole body simply relaxes against him while your free hand quickly finds the front of his jacket to grab onto as you push forward and deepen the kiss. His hand finds your hair, clutching a handful of it in his palm as he slips his tongue between your lips. He can feel your body shuddering upon contact, and he is relieved that you are still reacting that way to his touch. He can feel it under his palm when he reaches his other hand down the small of your back. Soon, he can also sense how the kiss is filled with deep emotions coming from you. He feels it vibrating against his chest when your heartbeat begins to pace quickly, and how your kiss grows more desperate with each passing second.

It takes a lot of effort for him to pull away from the kiss. His heart feels heavy at the thought of letting you go from his hold and allowing you to leave, but he is starting to feel the heat rising in his body. The heat that he would normally welcome wholeheartedly if it had been somewhere private where he could push you against the wall and take you until you are left breathless and until every bit of uneasiness that you both share will fade away into nothing. All he wants to do is to feel the strong bond that he shares with you to calm his restless heart and break down the wall that he feels is standing between you and him tonight.

He looks at your face, seeing how flushed you look and how your breath has grown ragged when you pull away, and Jungkook’s chest swells with pride at the sight, knowing that he is the one who had done this to you. Swallowing the desire that has been burning inside him, he takes this moment as much as he could. Thinking to himself that if he can only have this at the moment to savour, then he will take everything.

For now. Until later when he has the chance to gain more when he is alone with you.

Your eyes are glowing with pure love and desire when you look at him, and Jungkook resists the urge to pull you back into his arms. He is quiet when you place your palm on his cheeks, cupping his face as you take him in. “What time are you coming home?” you ask him as you brush a finger across his jaw, and he tilts his head to savour your touch as much as he can.

“Soon, I hope. Is there something bothering you? You seem like you have a lot going on inside that pretty little head of yours,” he asks you with his eyes on your face, studying you closely to read your emotions. He is surprised when he finds nothing, though there is a flicker of uncertainty appearing in your eyes for a moment before it fades when you smile at him.

“Everything is fine. I just wanted to talk to you about something,” you whisper softly, and Jungkook curses inwardly when your words confirm his thoughts earlier about you needing to have some time alone with him. “But I think it can wait. I don’t want you to lose focus over it.”

Gritting his teeth, Jungkook holds back from forcing you to speak. As much as he wants to know whatever it is that seems to be bothering you, he knows that there is no possible way that he can get you to talk about it here. “We’ll talk once I’m home. Okay?”

“Okay,” you answer him with a small voice, before you lean forward, once again taking his mouth in yours into another deep kiss that has his chest growing warm. Sadly, you pull away too soon, just before he could change his mind and cut the night short so he could come home with you. Leaning his forehead against yours, he sighs when you brush a finger across his swollen lips. “I love you. You know that, right?”

Jungkook smiles. “I know, baby,” he says, before he pulls back to kiss your temple. “I love you too.”

The elevator arrives on the floor right at that moment, and you slowly pull away. The moment he loses contact with your skin, his whole body trembles with a cold shiver running down his spine. A sense of dread fills his chest out of nowhere. He has no idea what is happening, but for some reason, it pains him to let you go.

“I’ll see you back home,” you mutter to him before you disappear inside the elevator.

Long after you are gone, Jungkook remains standing there, staring at the closed elevator doors as if you are still standing on the other side, even if he knows that you are probably already on your way home. He seems rooted to the spot, unable to shake the feeling that you are somehow fading away, that the dreams that he is building together with you are slowly falling apart, and that your words felt more like goodbye.

Jungkook was wrong.

The tension in the studio still lingers even once you are gone, even if there is nothing left here but the remnants of your presence felt through the fading warmth on the couch and the scent of home-cooked meal still faintly wafting in the air around him.

He barely managed to return to the studio after you left, but he forced himself to go back so he could finish his work and return home to you. As always, Namjoon stayed behind to help him with his project, taking the producer’s place in guiding him in the mixing process so he can speed things up. But things felt different after you were gone, when the comfort of his friend’s company seemed to have shifted and the only thing he felt was the awkward silence lingering around them as they tried to work together.

And yet he tried his best to put his attention on his work. Things had gone pretty well for a while after he managed to put things at the back of his mind. They talked about the music he has been working on like they usually would, and Jungkook was able to ignore the uneasiness that had been weighing him down until he was finally done with it.

“Should we call it a night? You’re not planning to stay the night here, right?” Namjoon’s voice fills the studio just as Jungkook stops the music from playing on his computer.

Jungkook presses his fingers on his temple. His head has been pounding for the past hour, both from working non-stop and for having to push back all the thoughts that have been circling inside his mind, and hearing Namjoon speak only seems to make things worse. He bites the insides of his cheeks to hold back from saying a thing and chooses to nod instead.

“Might be a good idea,” he says after a while, glancing at the time showing on his monitor to see that it is already past midnight. Shaking his head, he realises that you have probably gone to sleep and he probably wouldn’t have the answers that he needed tonight. “I should get home. ______’s probably asleep now, but I don’t want to make her worry, in case she wakes up to find that I’m not home yet.”

Once again, Jungkook catches a glimpse of contempt coming from Namjoon the moment he mentions your name. Something flashes in Namjoon’s eyes, an emotion that he cannot identify but at least he is quick to catch it this time before Namjoon manages to hide it the way he always does.

Clearing his throat, the man turns to Jungkook, completely oblivious to how the other has been studying him closely while he was lost in his own thoughts. “You don’t drive here, do you? Why don’t I drop you off on my way home? I still have my driver on standby and it’ll make his wait worth it if we have him drive both of us home.”

Jungkook shakes his head and chuckles softly. “You’ve done a lot for me already.”

Namjoon waves him off. “It’s nothing. You know that it’s a pleasure of mine to help.”

“Whatever you say then,” Jungkook says as he leans forward to shut his computer off. “Let me get ready to leave and clean up while you call your driver.”

Nodding, Namjoon leaves and steps out of the studio for a moment to grab his things at his office while Jungkook saves up his work and shuts everything down. It takes about another five to six minutes for Jungkook to finish cleaning up the studio and gathering all the things that he had brought with him to work. Once he is done and ready to go, he feels so physically and mentally drained that he let himself fall back on the couch.

He is still resting there with his head laid back on the backrest when Namjoon steps back into the studio, his folded suit and his suitcase in his right hand while he has his left hand raised to hold up his phone against his ear. Jungkook can see that he is not the only one who is exhausted, when he can see the tired lines on Namjoon’s face when the man walks in, too distracted with his phone call to the driver to notice the deep gaze that is following him as Jungkook keeps studying him from the distance.

For once, Jungkook is seeing for the first time how worn-out his friend seems. For as long as he had known Namjoon, the man has always been able to handle himself, even when he was at his lowest condition and on any harder days. This time, the weariness is written all over Namjoon’s face. His eyes seem unfocused even as he speaks to the driver with his instructions to pick both of them up at the front of the building, as if he is too exhausted to even think about his appearance or how he is acting at the moment.

Too exhausted to notice that the unbuttoned cuff of his sleeve has fallen a few inches down from his wrist, when he would always be ready to cover that part of the skin on any given day.

At first, Jungkook pays no attention to it. But just when Namjoon ends the phone call, merely seconds before he lowers his arm and lets his sleeve fall back down to cover his wrist, Jungkook finally understands what he has been looking at. In his shock, Jungkook finds himself unable to move. He can even barely breathe when it feels like there is a painful punch straight to his gut to push all the air in his chest out. It is a moment for him to process what he is seeing. Though, in his silence, he finds himself piecing everything together until things finally dawn on him.

“The driver will be here in about ten minutes, so we can probably get down to wait for him in the lobby in five,” Namjoon says with a tired voice, still not paying attention to Jungkook as he places his phone into his pocket and starts to absentmindedly button up his sleeves.

Jungkook finds it hard to listen to anything else that Namjoon is saying when his gut keeps on churning. All so suddenly, when he can finally ground himself again and once his head stops spinning, he finds his voice to say, “You know what? I changed my mind. I think I’d rather call an Uber or something.”

Namjoon raises his head to look at him questioningly, frowning deeper when he sees Jungkook already packing up his things and getting ready to leave. “Are you sure? It’s not really a long drive back to your place, right? I’m sure my driver won’t mind if—”

“I’m sure,” Jungkook quickly says, cutting him off and rushing towards the door. But then he stops himself, gritting his teeth for a moment as he gathers his thoughts. Stopping at the doorway, Jungkook turns to his friend, barely keeping his voice steady when he asks, “Before I go, can I ask you for a little favour?”

Namjoon looks at him curiously before asking, “What is it?”

Jungkook falls silent for a moment when he cannot seem to make up his mind. His voice seems to get caught in his throat, or perhaps his chest feels too constricted to speak that it takes a lot of effort for him to finally get the words out.

But then he straightens up, and he steels himself with the knowledge that he cannot simply walk away without knowing the truth. He looks at Namjoon straight in the eyes, not saying anything for a beat of a moment, until Namjoon’s gaze softens with a knowing look. As if his friend knows what he is about to say.

“May I take a closer look at your soulmate mark?” Jungkook finally asks his friend, doing the best he can to fight the pain that comes with each word leaving his mouth. “Because if your mark is identical to what my fiancé has on her, then I would like to see it with my own two eyes.”

You have no recollection of ever falling asleep.

The last thing you remember was waiting for Jungkook to come home, spending the night pacing restlessly until it was late near midnight when you finally sat down on the couch and turned the television on to keep you company while you continued to wait. You must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next time you open your eyes, you find yourself being lifted off the ground, held up safely by the two familiar strong arms and the fading sweet scent of your lover’s cologne engulfing you before you feel the soft plush of the mattress beneath you when you are being laid down on the bed.

You shift on top of the sheets and stretch out as your eyes flutter open, before looking up with your bleary eyes to see Jungkook looking down on you with a warm gaze in his eyes. “You’re home,” you whisper to him, sighing when he reaches down to press his palm gently on your cheek.

“Sshh—go back to sleep, baby. Sorry if I woke you up,” he whispers as he gently presses his lips on your temple.

“Come sleep with me,” you whine softly to him while barely able to keep your eyes open, drawing a soft chuckle from him.

“I will. Just sleep now. I’ll be here in the morning,” he says, though his voice is already fading when you are slowly drifting away. The last thing that you can vaguely hear before you surrender completely into sleep is the sound of his voice, murmuring softly to your ear as he presses a gentle kiss on your lips, “I love you. Always.”

His words follow you into your dreams, where you find yourself back in the same bedroom all those years ago, on the very same night you met him for the first time. In your hazy mind, you see yourself lying on his old bed, still as messy as to how you have always remembered it, and his eyes are still as warm and gentle as how you have memorised him from that night.

It feels as if you are transported back in time when you can even breathe in the same scents that had engulfed you that night—his old perfume, the fresh scent of softener covering his sheets, and the faint scent of shampoo coming from his hair as the strands fall into a curtain when he dips his head to trail down your body with his gentle kisses.

For some reason, you can feel everything. Every gentle touch of his fingers on your skin, every kiss, each brush of his hips and chest as he is moving on top of you.

“I’m so glad that I found you,” you hear his voice fading in and out like an echo in your dreams, even if you can still feel the warmth of his body pressing on yours, his broad chest sinking onto yours as he is slipping inside you, spreading your sensitive walls with his hard shaft and sending multiple sparks all over your body that has your body arching on the bed and your voice faintly screaming out his name.

His gentle caress soothes you until you can feel nothing else but pleasure, and between your blissful moans, you reach out to him, touching his face as you begin to rock your hips against him, welcoming him deep inside you where he belongs. “Take me. Make love to me. Make me yours.”

The smile that appears on him melts your heart, while your whole body erupts as he ignites the flame inside you when he does exactly what you had asked him to. As he moves his hips, reaching deeper and taking you harder, every thought fades away, and every sense you have is filled with his presence.

“Are you still here? Still not thinking about running away?” you hear him whisper to you just when he sends you tethering on the edge of your climax, already so close to reaching the peak of your bliss, and yet still rooted to the ground when his piercing gaze becomes the anchor that pins you down to him.

“I’m not going anywhere. I never will,” you find yourself speaking. You can hear your voice, even though it comes out like a fading echo, moving further and further away into the void instead of lingering in the space between you.

But Jungkook continues to make love to you, oblivious to how you feel like you are floating in space even while you are pressed against him and withering in his arms, clueless to how each rising pleasure that you feel only brings the painful pinch inside your chest grow tighter, and he has no idea how you can barely see his face now as you succumb to your climax, when his face grows blurry in your eyes as they are filled with tears.

“Jungkook—!” you cry out to him just as you are engulfed with the waves of your orgasm, and you can faintly hear him chanting your name as he erupts into his own.

He continues to hold you, soothing you until you come down from bliss. Except that just as your pleasure begins to fade, it seems to bring everything else along with it. Everything, including the sight of his pretty face. “Jungkook? What’s happening?” you keep asking him, though your voice sounds so faint, so small, so far away, and your chest is immediately filled with fear.

The smile that he gives you as he looks at you doesn’t affect you the way it should. When it usually heals any uncertainty that you might be feeling or settles your heart until you can feel all safe and secured once more, this time, his smile brings only sadness. Soon, the feeling of comfort, pleasure, and love that have been engulfing you merely moments ago begin to fade away, dissolving together with the sight of him, taking away his touch, his presence, his love.

All that is left for you at the end of your dream is the emptiness that you had once feared to have. Nothing but the remnants of his warmth and the fading sound of his voice that lingers before he disappears completely into nothingness—

“…love…always…”

The warm sunlight greets you from the windows across the room when you open your eyes, marking the start of the morning.

While it feels like you had been asleep for a long time, your whole body feels weary, and your chest feels hollow after the odd dream that you had just awakened from. Reaching next to you, you find that the crumpled sheets beside you have grown cold, letting you know that Jungkook had left the bed for quite some time. But before you have any chance to feel disappointed at his absence, you inhale a deep breath and the delicate scent of coffee wafts through the air, calling for you.

Smiling at the thought of your lover preparing breakfast for you out there, you toss the blanket off of you and rush to the bathroom to freshen up before you can see him.

Moments after you are done, you find Jungkook on the kitchen counter, sipping on his hot latte while he has his empty gaze looking across the room. You are surprised to find that he is fully dressed, but you choose not to question it when he senses your presence and turns to you with a smile on his face.

“I smelled coffee,” you say to him as you walk over, greeting him with a morning kiss. You had meant it to be a short and quick one before you can grab your own cup of caffeine, but Jungkook puts down his coffee mug and reaches around you, pulling you to him so he can kiss you longer, taking your lips into a lingering kiss before he finally lets you go.

When Jungkook finally releases you from his hold and pulls away from the kiss, he seems to be doing so with a heavy heart. You can sense his hesitance when he leans his forehead against yours while keeping you close, so you cup his face gently in your hands and look into his eyes to see what is troubling him.

“Is everything okay?” you carefully question him, drawing a rueful smile on his face.

“It will be,” he says after a beat of silence where he takes you in, watching your face closely with the smile lingering on his face. Finally, he gently guides you to the empty stool beside him and gestures at the plate of food and steaming coffee that he had prepared for you. “Why don’t you sit down and have breakfast with me?”

You pull away from him reluctantly and take the empty seat, breathing in the food—pancakes with syrup on top and freshly cut fruits—and the small mug of coffee. Smiling at his sweet effort, you murmur a soft 'thank you' to him and plant a kiss on his cheek before devouring your meal. You feel hyperaware of his intense gaze on you, letting you know that he is watching you closely the entire time while you are wholeheartedly enjoying your breakfast. Feeling uneasy about it, you start chatting with him, complimenting his simple cooking between each bite while teasing him about being sweet with you.

You turn to him when he barely reacts, looking at him questioningly when all he does is watch you with a smile on his face. “Why are you dressed? Are we going somewhere?” you tilt your head to scan him from head to toe, before frowning slightly. “Unless you’re going back to work already?”

Instead of answering your questions directly, Jungkook simply shakes his head and gives a quick peck on your lips to ease your mind a little. “How was your sleep?” he asks, changing the topic completely. You should be asking why he is doing it, but the way his hand is rubbing gently on your waist and the warm look in his eyes are too distracting that you simply brush it off.

But then you are reminded of your dream, how the memory of your first night with him returned to you only for everything to fade and fall apart. Your body shudders in dread as you recall parts of that awful dream, and you instinctively reach out to grab his hand, needing contact with your lover to feel your bond with him when you remember how it felt like it was taken away right the moment before you woke up.

“You moved me to the bed. Thank you,” you whisper to him while brushing your fingers on his skin. Jungkook looks down as he entwines his fingers through yours, smiling warmly at the sight before looking at your face again.

“You were sleeping on the sofa when I got in. It didn’t seem comfortable and you looked so tired so I figured it would be better to move you somewhere safe and cozy. I thought you would have a better rest sleeping in our bed.”

Thinking about last night, a sense of guilt quickly fills your chest. Especially when you are reminded that you had not exactly succeeded in talking to him when Namjoon’s presence sort of trampled over your plans. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I was waiting for you,” you say to him as you turn and tighten your hand on his.

“I know, baby. It’s okay,” he says as he reaches up with his free hand to run a finger across your lips, nearly distracting you with his touch. “I’m sorry for coming in so late.”

Taking a deep breath, you gather the courage to speak. “I was waiting for you to come home so that we could talk. Jungkook, there’s something you need to—”

Before you can finish saying anything, Jungkook presses a finger on your lips to stop you. Usually, you would take this gesture as a way of him teasing you whenever you would start talking too much and all he wants to do is to enjoy silence. But your uneasiness only escalates the moment your eyes meet his, seeing no sense of humour in his gaze that seems to grow deeper and darker when he looks at you.

Jungkook stays silent for a moment, taking you in before exhaling a deep sigh. “You know that I love you, right? I love you so much in a way that I know I can never experience the same kind of love ever again,” he suddenly says, and you grow tense against him when you feel him shuddering against you in his deep inhale of breath, and the dread you feel only grows even worse when his eyes begin to shine with unshed tears. “I never once, in my whole life, had ever thought that I could feel the kind of happiness that I feel when I’m with you.”

“Me too,” you whisper, choking on your words while feeling entirely clueless about what is happening.

When Jungkook breathes out another sigh, his whole body trembles with it. Slowly, as he begins to speak, the smile that he has been wearing ever since the moment you woke up begins to wilt, and you can slowly see your nightmare becoming reality. “But I also know that what we have—our love is unconventional, something that is completely unheard of, and we made it happen there for a while.”

Something is wrong. You keep telling yourself this and the pinch in your chest grows tighter, while the pain grows deeper. Deep down, you have a strong feeling that you might know what he is about to say, but you refuse to accept it. Not until he says it out loud.

“Jungkook—what?” you can barely ask him, still too choked up to say anything else. “What are you saying?”

With his palm pressing on your cheek and his other hand holding yours to keep it from shaking, Jungkook looks into your eyes. “I know everything, baby,” he whispers, giving you a rueful smile before leaning in, pressing his forehead on yours. “That you’ve finally met him. Your soulmate. You should’ve said something so that—”

Inhaling sharply, you finally understand what he is trying to say.

He knows.

You pull away and grab his hands tightly. “I was going to tell you, last night, but Jungkook—” you begin to explain yourself, but your heart drops the moment you see the defeated look in Jungkook’s eyes. The look that shows you that he had given up. Desperate to fight for your love, your grab both of his hands and force him to look at you. “Listen to me, it doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t have to. You said it yourself that what we have is real. Our love is real.”

When Jungkook opens his mouth to answer, you can already tell that all he is ever going to do is deny everything and be stubborn about it. If there is one thing that you have learned about him from all the years you spent with him, is that once Jungkook has put his thoughts on something, it would be hard to change his mind. Meanwhile, you are still too stunned to figure out what to say, and you are running out of ideas on how to fix things. The only thing you can do is jump out of your seat and wrap your arms around him, before capturing his lips in yours, shutting him up completely with your kiss.

Jungkook seems hesitant at first, but you breathe a sigh of relief when he makes no move to push you away. He tentatively returns the kiss, sighing softly before he takes you in his arms and takes over. His mouth moves fluidly against yours, his tongue slips out against the seam of your lips before he pushes in, letting your tongues dance together and making you shiver upon contact.

You had initiated the kiss to show him that there is nothing he should worry about, to show him the bond that you have is still as strong as before and you can stay strong as long as you put your mind to it. But as Jungkook puts his desperation into the kiss, when the tight hold he has around you feels more like his last attempt to feel any contact with you and to savour your presence for the last time, you can no longer deny feeling the finality in every touch he gives, in every brush of his kiss.

When everything tells you that this is final. The end.

When you melt into the kiss, it is not for the desire that comes coursing through you or the heat that comes from his touch, but it comes from your broken heart, for realising that this is him saying goodbye. The moment you come apart from the kiss, you find yourself unable to breathe. The pain feels too much, and it becomes harder when you start sobbing when you look at him again.

“Jungkook—” you try to beg him as you clutch the front of his shirt, stopping him from moving away. But before you have the chance to say anything to get him to change his mind or to convince him that nothing is going to change, Jungkook moves a step away, and your gaze falls over his shoulder to see something that makes your heart drops.

Right there, merely a few steps away from the front door of your apartment, you see a couple of travel bags piled up together against the walls. His bags.

“You’ve packed up your things? Y-you’re leaving?” you ask him with a whisper, barely able to get your voice out when your whole body is trembling with pain coursing through you. “But…why?”

Jungkook cups your face gently in his palms, as if he is trying to calm you down. Except there is nothing in his touch that could stop the tears falling down your face, nor does it help you to breathe easier.

“Baby, listen—” he gently begs you until you look away from his things and turn to look at him again. Though his face becomes a blur when your tears keep flowing out. “I love you, so much, but don’t you think that you are given a second chance to be with your soulmate and that you should give it a try?”

“No…no…no, please…,” you keep begging him while shaking your head, and the pain in his eyes deepen. It clears that Jungkook hates seeing you like this, and yet you hate knowing that it still isn’t enough to make him sway.

“I just want you to be happy. I’m giving you space to experience that,” he starts pleading with you, but you refuse to hear it.

“But I am happy! I’m happy with you, why can’t you see that?”

Hearing your words, Jungkook gives you a sad smile that breaks your heart even more when it makes you feel like you are losing the fight. “I see it, baby. Hell, I feel it too. But we both know that it wouldn’t be the same. The soulmate bond will forever surpass what we have,” Jungkook says while looking straight into your eyes, as if he believes every word he says to you, as if nothing is going to stop him from stepping out that door. Not even you. “We’ve seen it before, so many times. This is your second chance, baby. I have no right to take that away from you.”

No. But he also has no right to take away that choice from you.

Sobbing in his arms, you wish that you could say those words to him. But the words refuse to come out, dying in your tongue the moment you see the determined look in his eyes. The look that doesn’t change even when he can clearly see that you are hurting from his words, as if you are the only one in pain when the tight bond tethering both of your souls together is slowly torn into pieces when he finally lets you go.

You have no idea how you got here.

You should have known that it was a terrible idea to Google where he lives, and even worse when you decided to order the Uber to take you across the city to get here. You probably shouldn’t have left the apartment at all. Not like this. Not when you cannot even make any coherent sentences out of your mouth when your mind is still a jumbled mess. Not when you can barely walk.

You cannot even remember why your legs feel so heavy or why your knees are completely sore that it makes it hard for you to walk straight. It probably happened somewhere between the moment you fell down to the ground when you had to watch Jungkook walk out the door—leaving you behind with a breaking heart while he kept his eyes looking away from you—to the long hours you spent crying out your pain and feeling so powerless that you couldn’t bring yourself to come back up.

It feels like you are going in circles, stuck in a nightmare that you cannot get out of. The moment Jungkook’s absence sunk in, the emotions that came rolling out of you were unstoppable, and it was too much for you to handle. You wanted to blame somebody, to rip something out until it was torn to pieces, and yet you were too powerless to move when it felt like everything inside you had been ripped out of you until there was nothing left.

It must have been what had pushed you to find him, even if everything else starting from the moment you walked out of your home had become nothing but a blur.

At least nobody is stopping you from barging through the front door to the fancy building that makes you feel completely out of place. And it only takes one quick glimpse at the soulmate mark on your wrist for the man in an all-black suit who welcomes you at the door to take you to the elevator and escort you all the way up to the top floor.

Even now, as you are standing right in front of the expensive wooden doors shielding you from him, everything has yet to make sense. Until he finally steps out of the door of his penthouse, looking all stoic and calm as if he hadn’t done anything to turn your entire world upside down.

Namjoon calmly walks closer to you as the suited man slinks away, only for you to shove him on the chest with everything you have until he falls a step backwards.

“You told him!”

“_______,” Namjoon calmly says while raising his hands out towards you, still keeping himself composed even as you are yelling at him and continuously shoving him away while you are in a sobbing mess.

“Why? Why did you have to tell him?”

“I already told you, he would’ve found out eventually. And you had agreed that he had to know. I didn’t do it on purpose, I promise. He saw the soulmate mark while I wasn’t looking and—”

“But not this way!” you yell at him, before your energy deflates entirely and you fall powerless right in front of him. “You—” you choke out when a sob escapes you. “You don’t understand.”

Namjoon reaches out to you when you continue to cry. With his gentle hands on your arms, he slowly helps you up and holds you up against his chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, and you can faintly see the guilt that is written all over his face appearing beyond your teary eyes. With his arm around your waist to keep you from falling, he uses the other hand to gently wipe your tears away, not caring how fresh ones would only keep falling right after. “Please forgive me, ____, but Jungkook needed to know the truth. I couldn’t lie to him.”

“He’s gone,” you cry into his chest as he holds you in his arms. He keeps whispering soothing words to you while he slowly brings you with him into his home. “He left.”

The sound of the door clicking behind you barely registers to you until you feel him leaning against the closed door while he keeps holding you to him, anchoring you when he can feel you dissipating in your pain. For a moment, Namjoon says nothing, giving you a chance to cry your heart out. Only once your cries and constant sobs begin to subside is when he finally speaks, murmuring softly to you, “Maybe it’s a good thing.”

At first, you are not entirely sure if you had heard him correctly. With a gasp, you pull away to look at him more clearly, asking him with a whisper, “W-what?”

Namjoon looks down at your face then, wearing a grim look on his face when he suddenly says, “Perhaps it is a good thing that he is gone. Have you forgotten? You were supposed to be mine. Always have been.”

❥ Commissioned by @namgishope

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

BLACK&WHITE (part 4)

A/N: i've had a horrible ass day so it would mean the world to me if you could come talk to me after you read the part so i can finally have something good today 🥺

PAIRING: long hair college!Harry X Mitch’s little sister!Reader

WARNING: adult content

WORD COUNT: 4.4k

SERIES MASTERLIST

You’re convinced you traveled back in time. You’re fourteen again and Mitch is giving you a lecture about how you can’t date anyone until you’re at least eighteen. Only this time you’re not sitting on the floor of your old room but your dorm room.

Bonnie left with a clearly made up excuse when she opened the door and found your brother standing there, fuming, smoke emitting from his ears as he marched into the room, ready to scream your head off.

Now you’re sitting on your bed, Mitch towering above you as he tells you about horror stories of girls that were murdered after meeting men from the internet. He goes into so much detail, you’re convinced he’s been hooked on true crime videos lately for sure.

“…and you’re basically offering yourself to them on a silver platter, accepting to meet them God knows where?! Did anyone else know you’d be there? What if you go missing? What if—“

“Mitch, for fuck’s sake, would you at least breathe?” you growl rolling your eyes. Unlike when you were fourteen, you want to stand up for yourself this time.

“And would you sometimes just think?” he snaps back, your eyebrows rising at his words.

“Excuse me, but I do think. I think about how I want to find someone I can be with and the only way to do that is to meet guys, don’t you think?”

“But not from that shitty app! Why can’t you just… run into someone in a coffee shop or something?”

“Because ninety percent of the time that only happens in movies,” you grumble under your breath. “How did you even find out about it?” you wrinkle your nose.

“Erik told me and I was just about to fucking blow up right then and there.”

Sighing you pinch the bridge of your nose as you stand up from the bed.

“Alright, I promise to cancel the date. But you can’t stop me from dating anymore, Mitch.”

“I’m not trying to stop you!” he protests, but it’s not quite convincing. “I’m just… Just trying to watch out for you, Y/N.”

“And I get that, but… you won’t be able to protect me forever. I need to experience things on my own way.”

Exhaling long through his nose you see as his figure relaxes a bit, letting go of the anger he’s been harboring. He has to accept that you’re not a child anymore and though you’re thankful for everything he has done for you, he needs to let go of your hand.

“It makes me feel so fucking old, knowing that… you’re dating,” he admits with a small chuckle.

“You kinda old, yeah,” you tease him, earning a deadly look before you start laughing. “I promise I’ll find a better way to date, okay? I didn’t even like that app anyway.”

“And I promise that… I will try to be less of a psycho,” he mumbles under his breath before you pull him into a hug.

Since your afternoon freed up, Mitch offers to take you to the movies and buy nachos like you always did when you were younger. It’s been a long time since the two of you spent time together with no one else around. Not that you mind Sarah often tags along or you meet up with more of his friends joining the party, but sometimes it’s nice to be just the two of you.

Later he is meeting with Sarah and you need to run a quick errand to the grocery shop so your ways part, promising to meet up again soon, at last in the weekend. You can’t stop thinking about how Mitch could find out about your date. Not that you mind it that much that you couldn’t go, your brother almost did you a favor with telling you not to go.

Mitch said he heard it from Erik, but who told him? Could it be Ruth? You didn’t tell her, but Bonnie knew about it so maybe she did. It’s the hand of fate that when you’re nearing the dorm you see Erik and two other buys crossing the lawn and you know you can’t pass on the opportunity to ask him.

“Erik! Wait!” you call out for him, jogging over to them.

“Y/N, hey! What’s up?” he smiles, hiding his hands in his jersey’s pockets.

“I wanted to ask you something,” you start, eyes wandering over to the two other guys. Erik luckily gets what you want, so he tells the guys to wait for him at the car, giving you some privacy.

“What can I do for you?”

“So, my brother said he found out about my alleged date from you. Wanted to ask how exactly you knew about that,” you chuckle lightly, feeling a bit nervous and awkward to be talking about this with Erik. You’re not quite too close, so you’d never thought you’d be talking about anything similar with him, but here you are.

“Oh,” he breathes out, a guilty expression appearing on his face. “I-I just…”

“Erik, please!” you beg him, desperate to know the truth.

“Alright, I really don’t want to get myself into drama, so if this blows up, please just leave me out, okay?”

“Promise. I won’t even bring up your name.” Erik nods, pressing his lips together into a thin line before he looks around as if anyone could hear him, but it’s safe, it’s just the two of you.

“Harry paid me twenty bucks to tell Mitch about it. But I don’t know why or how he knew.”

Your lips part and eyebrows shoot up at the information you just learned. Harry? He is behind this mess? This doesn’t make sense, it’s almost like… as if Harry was trying to sabotage your date, but why would he?

Well, you have one idea, but if you make yourself believe that and it turns out not to be true it would just break your heart, so you need to find out the reason behind his actions.

“Thanks, Erik. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you out of it,” you smile back at the boy who nods before jogging away to catch up with his friends as you already have the outline of a plan how to get back to Harry for his little trick.

“Hey man,” Mitch greets Harry who’s sitting at the kitchen island, finishing up a task sheet. He look sup, playing his pen down, the bun he put his hair into bouncing with the motion.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Mitch walks over to the fridge and grabs one of the food boxes filled with the prepped meal Sarah keeps leaving for him throughout the week. It’s amazing how she takes care of him, another thing Harry envies in their relationship.

“Not much, went to the movies with Y/N today.”

“Oh,” is all Harry answers. Does this mean they went instead of Y/N’s date? Did his plan work out? “Cool, how is she?” he asks, pretending like he didn’t just see you yesterday.

“I had to have a talk with her today because she is now on Tinder!” Mitch growls, putting the box into the microwave and starting it.

“Is she now?” he hums with an innocent look.

“She is nuts! There are so many creeps on that app, and she was already about to go on a date!”

“So you talked her down?”

“Someone needs to have common sense in the family,” he grumbles. “But we did have a chat about dating in general.”

“Really? What about it?”

“Well, she pointed out that I might have been a bit too strict with her,” he admits with a sigh. “So I’ll try to stay out of her business. As long as she is not meeting men off of the internet,” he adds.

“So she’ll keep dating, huh?”

“I mean, she can’t stay single for her whole life,” he sighs in defeat.

There’s that feeling again, this stinging feeling in Harry’s chest when he thinks about you with another man. It just feels wrong, no one is good enough to be blessed by the privilege to know you like that, to touch you like that.

“Hey,” Mitch gets his attention, snapping him back from his thoughts about you. “Thanks for keeping your word.”

“About what?”

“Y/N,” he simply answers before taking his food from the microwave and walking out of the kitchen.

Harry has never felt guiltier.

You: Harry?? You there??

Harry: I’m here, what’s wrong??

You: I need help, can you come and get me?

Harry: Are you alright? What happened?

You: I’m on a date with this guy from Tinder but he is being so rude and I don’t want to leave alone, I’m afraid he’ll follow me.

Harry: Where are you? I’m leaving now.

Harry will take your head. It’s official. What did you mean that you’re out on a Tinder date? After you promised Mitch you would get off that cursed app? Are you really seeking to make your brother go nuts, along with Harry as well?

This is not what he planned for his Thursday evening. He just came back from another run when your texts arrived, fresh out of the shower and ready to just hang out with the boys in the house and call it a night at a reasonable time. Instead of that, now he is racing to the bar you told him you’re at and he can only hope nothing happens to you before he gets there. He’ll save you, get rid of the creepy guy you met and then he’s gonna murder you for going through with the Tinder dates anyway.

He parks the car in a frenzy, barely even remembering to lock it before he storms into the place. Thursday evenings are not quite like the weekends, but there are definitely more people than on a Monday. Entering the bar Harry stops, his eyes running over the booths and table, looking for your familiar face. His frustration just grows when he can’t find you anywhere, but only because he wasn’t looking for you to sit around on your own. When he spots you at the bar perched up on a stool, laughing around with the bartender girl, his jaw drops right away.

That dress is way too short and tight for you to be out there just like this, to have men see you in a way Harry wants only to himself. He is a selfish man and he knows he has no right to claim you in any way, but he just can’t help the instinct. As he crosses the place he can’t take his eyes off of you and he is already stripping himself out of his zip-up hoodie, determined to hide you from the greedy stares around the place. Because you might have not noticed, but Harry surely did how some of the men around you keep looking your way, eyeing you without shame.

But what also doesn’t flies over him is that you’re completely alone, not at all looking like you’re stressed or have a date you’re trying to get rid of.

“Y/N, what the fuck is going on?” he grits through his teeth, throwing his hoodie over your shoulders as he stands close, running his gaze around to see if he has to fight anyone for shooting you inappropriate looks.

“Oh, you’re here!” you beam with fake innocence as you give him a puzzled look for the hoodie. “I’m not cold, thanks,” you tell him, shrugging it off, but he is quick to fix it back to you.

“Are you fucking nuts? You’re basically naked, keep the hoodie on!” he shrieks and you can’t help but laugh.

“Chill, it’s fine, or you have a problem with me being naked?” you challenge him clicking your tongue. His cheeks turn a light pink shade rather quickly as he opens his mouth but then closes it again, not sure how to answer that.

“What? That’s not—I was just… Y/N what’s going on here?” he sighs. “Where’s your date?” Looking around he sees no one who appears to be with you, it’s clear you’re here alone.

“There was no date,” you simply answer, confusing him even more.

“Then what were those texts about?!”

“Just wanted to talk to you.”

“And you had to pretend like you were in trouble? Y/N, what the fuck? I was so worried, you wrote that you were afraid!” Pinching the bridge of his nose he takes a few deep breaths to collect himself and calm down. He is not trying to bite your head off your neck, but he has just no idea what’s going on, though he is about to find out very soon. “Y/N, you don’t need to play games to get me to talk to you.”

“Yeah? So then you’ll tell me truthfully why you made Erik tell my brother that I was going on a date?” you retort with a straight face, watching his expression go from shocked to guilty and then to panicked as he tries to figure out how to save his ass, but there’s no space for any more lies now.

“Who told you?”

“That doesn’t concern you. Now, will you answer my question? Because from where I’m seeing the situation, you’re trying to sabotage me behind my back. Why is that?”

“Y/N, it’s not what you think it is. But can we just… go somewhere else?” he pleads, playing a hand to your lower back, but you shake his touch off of yourself as you slide off the stool and throw his hoodie back at him.

“Stop babying me, Harry. You’re not my chaperon or some shit! Just tell me why you did it!”

“I’m not telling you shit while there are at least a dozen men in here wanting to fuck you senseless in this dress that barely even covers your ass,” he snaps back, getting right into your face so close to you, it makes you gasp. You want to stand your ground, but you’ve been actually feeling awkward sitting on the stool, waiting for him.

If you’re being honest, you chose the dress to rile him up in case your guesses about why he did what he did would turn out to be true and it seems like it got just the right reaction out of him, because you can almost see steam coming from his ears.

Grabbing your coat from the stool beside where you’ve been sitting you simply walk around Harry and head out as you put it on, knowing well he is following you right behind. The crispy night air feels refreshing against your heated skin as you walk just a few meters away from the entrance before turning around to face Harry who’s been sulking after you with a hard face.

“Now tell me the truth, Harry. Because I’m done playing around.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you, okay? I was just worried about you, but I felt like I would be stepping over boundaries if I were to tell you not to go to that date.” He rubs his face with his hand, avoiding to look at you and it’s a tell he is not telling you the truth.

“That’s bullshit, Harry. Because then you wouldn’t have made Erik go to Mitch, you would have just told him yourself.”

“I couldn’t do that,” he shakes his head vigorously.

“And why not?”

“Can’t tell you.”

“Yes you can! And I want you to tell me!” you snap, running short on your patience. “I’m done being treated like a child and being lied to!”

“I’m not treating you like a child, Y/N. You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he protests, but it’s still not enough for you.

“Then why did you do it? And why didn’t you go to Mitch instead of bringing Erik into your little games? And don’t even fucking think about lying to me, because—“

“I couldn’t go to Mitch because he told me to stay away from you!” he suddenly snaps, the truth erupting from him with no barriers. “He told me I’m no good for you and he is fucking right, but I couldn’t stay away from you, because you’re all I can think about!”

“What?” you breathe out in complete shock. Even though part of you was expecting this, or more like hoping for it, it’s still hard for you to comprehend his words.

“I tried, okay? I tried to stay away from you, but I can’t. And the thought of you with another guy was just fucking unbearable so I had to do something. But if I went to Mitch he would have found out that I broke my promise and kept in touch with you.”

“Harry…”

“I’m so fucking confused, because I know I shouldn’t feel this way about you, but I can’t help it. You’re Mitch’s sister, I watched you grow up but in a way it just draws me even more to you, knowing things not many know about you, having a history with you… and when I saw you at that party, I fucking knew I was gone for you. It took just one look a-and you just took over my whole head, I can’t get you out of my mind, I want to talk to you all the time, I want to be around you, I want to keep you safe and make sure you’re alright, even though I shouldn’t be around you. I made a promise, but I don’t know if I can keep it and—“

You shut him up smashing against him, your lips pressing onto his hard. You heard enough. More than enough to know that this has got to be the turning point despite the guilt Harry has been fighting when it comes to you.

Cupping his face in your hands you keep him in place in case he wants to pull back which he doesn’t, but he stands frozen for a long moment, before letting his desire take over control and finally break.

His hands grab onto your waist, pulling you against him as his lips finally start to move, a heavenly feeling you never thought you’d ever experience, but here you are, kissing Harry Fucking Styles. You press yourself against him, the two of you tumbling around a bit until your back hits a cold brick wall in the alleyway next to the building. His lips devour you, sucking and biting on you in a way no one did before and kissing has officially gotten a whole new meaning. His taste is intoxicating, his tongue melting against yours as you let a moan slip through your lips, right into his mouth just when his hands move down your body, groping your ass so your hips press up against his tight.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he breathes out, but his actions are saying something else as he kisses down your jawline and throat, your fingers carding through his hair, completely messing up his bun, but he still looks so perfect it’s unfair.

“Shut the fuck up,” you grunt, pulling his face back up so you can kiss him again, hard and needy, but he eagerly gives you anything you want.

He pushes your knees apart with his leg, his thigh coming between yours, pressing against your throbbing core and you can’t help but moan as you involuntarily grind against his leg.

“Fuck,” he gasps, fingers digging into your ass as he keeps coming back for more and more kisses.

“Harry, I want you.” The words come out as a desperate plea and if he wasn’t holding you up, pressing against the wall, you’d completely fall to your knees right in front of him.

“Y/N, I—“

“Please don’t say no,” you whine, tugging gently on his hair and that surely makes him lose his mind as you kiss him again, not giving him a chance to pull back. No matter how hard you’re trying to hold yourself, back, you still roll your hips, grinding against his leg to somehow ease the need you feel for him and your relief.

“Fucking hell, as if I could deny anything from you, Y/N,” he groans before pushing his hips forward and you gasp at the feeling of his erection pressing against you through the damned clothes you two are wearing. “Come on, grind on my thigh. Make yourself cum.”

You cry out, but start moving anyway, your core rubbing against his thigh, one of his hands coming to your lower back as he guides you in your motions, his lips busying yours, muffling your moans. You’re still out in public and though the alleyway is dark enough that people passing by don’t notice you, your moaning could easily give you away and draw attention to what’s happening.

“Harry…” His name comes out as a desperate plea, your body is going through the motions without even processing that you’re just about to cum because you’re riding Harry’s thigh on the street. The excitement, the lust, it’s all too much for your senses, but there’s no stopping now.

“You are so fucking beautiful, you’re making me lose my mind,” he breathes out, kissing wherever he can reach you, your lips, nose, cheeks, down your throat as his hands dig into your flesh through the fabric of your coat and the tight dress that has ridden up your thighs completely.

“Oh my God—“ you choke out when you pick up the pace of your hips, Harry pushes his leg further against you, desperate to see you come apart, he is intoxicated on the sight in front of him.

You grab onto his face, pulling his lips against yours, kissing him hard, lips smashing, teeth crashing, it’s such a mess, but you love every second of it. Harry’s hair falls out of the bun, his locks coming down to cover your face as he leans down kissing you with so much need and passion.

“Harry!” you cry out when you feel the relief washing over you in waves, your breath caught in your throat as you snap your head back against the brick wall.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, I could watch you cum forever,” he moans, a hand coming up to cup your face, his thumb brushing along the line of your bottom lip as you’re gasping for air.

The moments pass by and you finally come back from your heaven, realizing where you are and what really just happened. You totally just rode Harry Styles’ thigh out on the street after he admitted that he can’t stop thinking about you.

He slowly pulls back, retreating his leg from between yours and you quickly fix your dress before someone sees you. His gaze changes from lustful and burning to guilty in just a blink of an eye, but you’re not letting him push you away after what just happened.

“Hey, look at me,” you softly plead him, cupping his face in your hands before running one through his hair to push his unruly locks out of his face. Unwillingly, but he meets your gaze, his jaw clenching. “Don’t be hard on yourself, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“This… shouldn’t have happened,” he whispers, shaking his head, a pained expression contorting his face.

“Says who? Stop letting others have a say in what you want and do!” You sigh, growing frustrated that even after what happened he is convincing himself he did something wrong. “Harry, please—“

“Come on, I’m taking you home,” he simply tells you, stepping back from you and it’s more painful than a slap across the face. You’re losing him just minutes after you thought you finally broke down the walls.

You get in his car without a word spoken, Harry is obviously avoiding to even look at you, making you feel like absolutely nothing and you’re fighting your tears on the way back to the dorm. But then you kick yourself in the ass and realize that you have to give it a try and can’t just let him walk away from you like this.

He parks in front of the building, but instead of getting out you turn to face him.

“So that’s it? You let you come loose just this one time and now you’ll pretend like it didn’t happen?”

“It’s… it’s the best for the both of us, Y/N.”

“Stop making decisions for me! I’m able to tell what’s good for me and what’s not. And you should do the same. You’re letting other people decide whether you’ve changed or you’re still the same person you used to be, but that’s the biggest mistake you could make.”

He keeps just staring ahead of him knowing that looking at you would break him. Nothing ever felt this hard in his life, fighting with himself over what’s good and what’s bad.

“Harry…” you breathe out and reach up you cup his face in your palm, turning his face so he finally looks you in the eyes. He is so torn, so beat up over something that should feel easy and light. “You remember when I told you that nothing and no one is just black and white?” you ask softly, running your thumb along the soft skin under his eye.

“Yeah,” he whispers nodding.

“I lied. There is something I see clear and it’s simply black and white, nothing to decide on or question.”

He doesn’t ask what it is, but you know the shaky breath he lets out means just that. He looks beautiful, even with the pained expression all over his face, the way his hair frames his perfectly structured face, those beautiful green eyes, the curve of his lips that were kissing you not so long ago… God, this man is gonna be the death of you.

“It’s us, Harry. You and I. There’s no question about us for me, Harry, because I want you, I’ve wanted you for a long time,” you admit with a soft chuckle, feeling a bit anxious to come clean about the feelings you’ve been harboring about him. “It’s simple, it’s black and white, clear as daylight. I want you, Harry.”

He sucks on his breath, clearly on the fence as he tries to figure out whether he should listen to everyone and everything that’s told him to stay away from you or just go after his own gut and feelings, doing what makes him happy and he is so close to throwing away all his doubts... You lean closer, noses almost brushing against each other as you whisper your next words.

“Do you want me?”

NEXT PART

Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!

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