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projectionistwrites · 1 year

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FOR SCIENCE | SUBJECT 2

In which the Moon Knight alter system presents a unique opportunity to settle the nature versus nurture debate, once and for all...

Marc Spector x afab!psychologist!reader (11.0k+)

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni) WARNINGS: fetishization of mental disorders (DID), psychoanalysis, potentially unethical scientific practices, SMUT (dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral (f! and m!receiving), unprotected p in v sex, squirting, creampie, bondage, intense edging, reader is very mean, facesitting/riding, 69ing, praise kink, dirty talk, use of the stoplight system) NOTES: time for everyone’s favorite babygirl. again, i really hope i did marc’s character justice. also, you can’t tell me marc wouldn’t look so pretty crying for you. i kinda went feral on this one. <3 DISCLAIMER: although i’m incredibly knowledgeable about psychology, i am NOT a professional. all psychoanalyses made throughout the course of this storyline are entirely my own, based on my own interpretations of the characters. in a similar vein, i am also not an expert on DID specifically (although i am well-read on mental disorders and diagnoses), so i apologize for any incorrect terminology or misrepresentation. don’t hesitate to call me out if i say something wrong!

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CASE STUDY: MARC SPECTOR

ROLE IN COGNITIVE SYSTEM: Host / Apparently Normal Part

ATTACHMENT STYLE: Fearful

CHARACTERISTICS: cocksure, standoffish, pensive, calculating; resilient to a fault; views himself as irredeemable in the face of his past, unworthy of forgiveness or compassion; must be in control of every situation in order to feel secure.

SPLIT FROM HOST: N/A

TRAUMA RESPONSE: tendency to run when facing emotionally distressing situations

SEXUAL PRESENTATION: dominant, assertive, deliberate, practiced, indulgent; derives majority of satisfaction from his ability to draw pleasure from his partner; cognitive blockages that are reminiscent of self-sabotage (undeserving of release or pleasure).

“You’re early, Doc.”

Marc teased—he was leaning against the doorframe with a smug smirk on his face, successfully blocking your entrance into his flat. You felt your face heat up beneath his devious gaze.

“I know.”

Your words were softer than you’d intended them to be, more hesitant—Marc’s eyes narrowed at your wavery response.

He wordlessly stepped to the side, allowing you to finally slip past him and into the threshold of the apartment. You paused in the entrance as the door clicked shut behind Marc. He narrowly avoided colliding into your form as he turned, his arms jutting out to brace himself against you to prevent either of you from stumbling. His hands gripped your biceps, his chest pressed against your back. Your body tensed under his touch, and he let out a low chuckle, slipping past you and further into the space.

“Jesus, you’re touchy today. Everything okay?”

He leaned back against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his chest as he studied you. The movement was so easy, so casual and relaxed, as if this was just like any other time you’d hung out at his place—as if you weren’t there just to get into his pants. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks as you glanced down at your worn sneakers. It felt...different, this time. With Steven, you knew there would be a learning curve for both of you. You knew that, to some extent, you would be the one calling the shots, making Steven feel safe and comfortable. But now...you were intimidated. And ashamed to admit it.

You must’ve been quiet a beat too long, because the next second, Marc was in front of you, standing toe-to-toe. When you didn’t meet his eyes, his left hand came to nudge your chin upward, forcing your gaze upon him. You gulped, but his dark eyes were softened with concern.

“Hey. You gotta talk to me, Y/N. What’s on your mind?”

You blew out a breath.

“No, it’s nothing, I’m just—”

“—nervous?”

Marc finished for you, and you squeezed your eyes shut in an effort to prevent yourself from seeing the satisfied look on his perfect face.

“Yes, Marc, laugh it up. I’m nervous.”

“Hey, I didn’t even—”

“Yeah, but you were gonna.”

You snapped with a glare, but you felt guilt punch through your gut when a look of hurt crested Marc's features. You sighed.

“Shit, Marc, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“I am, too, you know.”

You blinked once, then twice.

“You’re...what?”

He rolled his eyes, huffing out a bitter, humorless laugh, as if he thought you were toying with him. When he saw the genuine confusion on your face, he threw his head back with a groan.

“You’re really gonna make me say it, huh?”

Your eyes narrowed, but when you finally realized what he meant, you felt a small smile creep onto your face.

“Wait—you’re nervous?”

Marc shrugged sheepishly, and you could see a bit of color rise to his cheeks—was he blushing?

“You’re telling me—Marc Spector is nervous?”

“Yeah, and who’s laughing it up, now?”

He quirked a brow, giving you an accusatory look, and you giggled at him, the tension melting away from your body easily.

“I’m not laughing at you, Marc, I’m just—why would you be nervous? Especially around me?”

He shook his head at you incredulously, taking a few steps closer. You felt your back press up against the door behind you, successfully trapping you in Marc's vicinity.

“S’that so hard to believe? A pretty girl like you, coming over to study how I am in bed—even if it’s just for science?”

Marc wiggled his brows theatrically, and you laughed again, shaking your head. Still, there was blood pumping loud in your ears as he spoke, and you could feel electricity crackle in the air between you, charged with energy.

“Yeah, for science. But—you have pretty girls over all the time to see how you are in bed.”

“Yeah, but s’never been you, has it?”

The words were barely audible, muttered lowly beneath his breath, but you felt your jaw slacken at his quiet confession. Your eyes flitted up to his, and there was that cheeky, self-satisfied grin on his face again—fuck, he was too handsome, you just wanted to—

“Can I just fuckin’ kiss you, already?”

He was close, now, his warm exhales mingling with your own. His brown eyes glittered onyx as he drank you in, lips parted just slightly, the tip of his nose barely brushing your own. You felt faint, the proximity dizzying as temptation sank its teeth into your flesh. With the faintest nod of your head, Marc took the plunge.

You’d never had a kiss quite like this one before. Of course, Steven’s was great, but it was exactly what you’d expected—a desperate clash of teeth and tongue, the two of you battling your insecurities to fall into a steady rhythm. But this—this was fucking special. Marc’s hand slipped behind your head to thread through your hair, his other arm looping around your waist to pull you flush against him. You were frankly surprised at the tenderness with which his lips found yours, starting with a barely-there brush of his mouth. It was sweet, and raw, intimate, and you felt his lashes flutter against your cheek when he pulled away too soon.

You were breathless, your face following his as he drew back, desperate to maintain the contact. He chuckled at this, but remained close, eyes finding yours again.

“Still nervous?”

He asked, his voice low and gravelly. His eyes seemed darker as he smirked down at you, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. Your eyes flitted down to his mouth, your breath catching in your lungs at the sight. Something resembling a squeak involuntarily escaped your throat.

“Marc. Please.”

You whined, big doe-eyes glimmering, and Marc scrunched his face up as though he was in pain, eyes squeezed shut tight as he groaned. He rested his forehead against yours.

“Shit. You really gonna make it that easy for me, baby?”

He practically hissed, and a breathy laugh blew past your lips. Marc captured your mouth with his again, harder this time, the hand that was in your hair reached up to brace himself against the door above your head, successfully caging you in. You hummed against him as his tongue passed through the seam of your lips, sinking into you further. Your desperate hands reached up and clawed at his chest, gripping the navy blue fabric of his cotton t-shirt in your fingers as you held him close. He pressed himself into you, and you could feel the hardness of his bulge flush against your lower abdomen. A moan escaped you at the feeling of his arousal, your body instinctually thrusting into his hold. You could feel him smile into the kiss.

“Yeah? You feel what you do to me, huh, baby?”

He teased against your lips, and you tossed your head back, thudding against the door behind you. You looked down your nose at him, through your lashes, panting slightly, your hands still twisted in the material of his shirt.

“Fuck, Marc, want you so bad, just—”

Your words died on your breath when his arms abruptly slid beneath your butt and hoisted you upwards, your legs wrapping around his waist and your arms around his neck. One of his large hands stayed firmly squeezing the flesh of your ass, the other roamed the length of your back as he pressed his lips against yours again, turning to walk you further into the apartment.

“Jesus, this is gonna be fun.”

He mumbled at your eagerness and responsiveness, your hands threading through his brown curls as he brought you towards the bed, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. You gasped when he threw you back onto the mattress abruptly, your body bouncing once at the contact, causing you to giggle. But then Marc was stalking over your body, hovering above your body with a predatory look in his eyes. He licked his lips as you blinked up at him.

“Gonna take my time with you, pretty girl. Gonna absolutely ruin you.”

You impatiently pulled his face back to yours, and he didn’t resist, kissing you back with equal fervor and desire as your own, but the moment you lifted your hips to seek friction from his body, he pulled away, tutting at you condescendingly.

“Ah, ah, ah. Relax, baby. Don’t torture yourself.”

He smirked, fingers dancing across the skin of your stomach beneath the hem of your shirt. You reacted immediately, lifting your arms above your head to allow him to pull it from your body.

“Look at you—so obedient.”

His patronizing tone normally would’ve pissed you off, but there was something about the look in Marc's eyes—completely enraptured with you, ready to give you the world—that made you want to do whatever he said. He reached behind your body to undo your bra, fingers nimbly unhooking the clasps as he yanked it off of you, his face immediately sinking into your cleavage. He groaned, lips frantically attaching themselves to the flesh between your breasts, wandering across the expanse of the newly-exposed skin and wherever they could reach.

“Oh, baby. Got such pretty tits.”

He growled, teeth playfully sinking into the skin at the top of your right breast, earning a yelp from your mouth as he quickly soothed the sting with a swipe of his tongue, smirking up at you. The heat of his mouth was enough to briefly distract you from his wandering hands, but then he was yanking your pants down your legs in one fell swoop, leaving you bare save for the plain pink cotton panties you’d worn today—they weren’t particularly sexy, as you had been trying to prevent your apparel from serving as a confounding variable, but Marc still looked like he wanted to devour you.

His rough hands ran up the plush skin of your thighs, over your hips before squeezing at your tits, making your back arch up and off the bed. A dark chuckle sounded from above you.

“So eager.”

He hummed, pressing a kiss to your mouth, and you felt his hands travel down your body again, teasingly fondling at the waistband of your underwear as you sighed. You let your own hands travel beneath his shirt, running your hands along the warmth of his toned abdomen, coaxing him out of the material. You were happily surprised when he honored your silent request, allowing you to pull the shirt over his head and toss it to the side. His expression flickered for a moment as you admired him, his eyes briefly shining with a certain warmth that you couldn’t decipher. He pressed his lips to yours, a soft, sweet kiss, but when he pulled away, the wicked gleam in his eye had returned.

“Gonna make you feel good, baby. You want me to touch you?”

Your nod was frantic, your head pressed back into the pillows as you forced your body to stay still beneath him, even as you desperately wanted to rut up against his jean-clad thighs.

“Yeah, you do, huh? Bein’ such a good girl for me, baby—you gonna keep behavin’ yourself? Gonna let me take care a’ you?”

You whined, desperation starting to pulse through your limbs, making you want to squirm.

“Yes, Marc, yes, just—please—”

He shushed you, his lips pressing hotly beneath your jaw before continuing down the column of your neck, down your sternum, across your breasts, and finally stopping above your navel. He hummed into your skin, the vibrations causing a chill to pass over your spine, goosebumps rising in their wake. He lifted his hands to spread your legs further apart, granting him the space to lay between them so he was face-to-face with your clothed core.

“Fuck, baby—soakin’ for me already.”

You could feel his hot breath against the cool, damp material of your panties, and you jolted when his fingers lightly pressed against the wet spot, the pads of his digits just barely swiping over your folds. Your toes curled and legs tensed, trying hard to withstand Marc's slow, relentless teasing. He seemed to be enjoying it, a dark chuckle escaping his mouth at your reaction.

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

He requested lowly, hands pressed against your inner thighs to hold them apart in front of him. You tried to make your voice steady.

“Marc, please, just—”

His fingers harshly curled into the flesh of your thighs, creating divots in the soft skin as you flinched. He gave you a warning glare.

“You never struck me as the bratty type. C’mon, baby—tell me what you want.”

“You, Marc, fuck—want you so bad. Always wanted you.”

You flinched at your own confession, but Marc responded with a throaty growl.

“Oh, yeah? Thought this was just for research, hm?”

You felt his nose brush against the crotch of your panties, and you whimpered, your hips lifting of their own accord. Marc’s hands gripped your waist tightly and slammed your ass back into the mattress, pressing you down firmly.

“That’s enough.”

He warned, suddenly strict, and you swallowed, trying hard to resist the urge to sink your hands in his hair and force him towards where you needed him most.

“Fuckin’ greedy little thing. I’ll give you whatever you want, pretty girl—just wanna hear you say it.”

You bit your lip defiantly, feigning confusion at his request, and he growled again, teeth sinking into the flesh of your hip right above the waistband of your panties. You jumped at the sensation, letting out a sharp cry, and you felt the vibration of his chuckle through your skin.

“Go on, Y/N. Tell me the truth. Tell me how bad you want me.”

Your resolve shattered.

“Want you so bad, Marc. Wanted you since the day I met you. Wanted you to bend me over the desk in my office, wanted—wanted to get on my knees for you right there on the bus. Got off to the thought of you fucking me so many times, Marc, shit, please, would you just—”

He practically ripped the panties from your body as his mouth finally surged forward to steal a taste of your sopping cunt. You yelped in surprise when his tongue swiped through your folds, and Marc wasted no time in sinking two fingers into your throbbing entrance, already beginning a relentless pace within you.

“Oooh, FUCK, Marc—”

You exclaimed, hips thrusting upward at the sudden stimulation, and Marc’s strong arm reached up to press down on your stomach, forcing your movements to halt.

“Sit fuckin’ still—want you to cum all over my fingers, baby.”

He muttered against your clit, lips wrapping around the bud to suck harshly. Your orgasm was rapidly approaching already, the pleasure mounting and mounting with each sudden thrust of Marc’s thick fingers, each move deliberate and practiced. You were mewling beneath him, back arched harshly as he continued his pace, dark eyes watching as your face contorted into a look of pleasure.

“That’s it, baby, can feel you squeezin’ my fingers, fuck—you gonna cum for me?”

Your climax peaked easily and you let out a long sigh as you let the waves of pleasure overcome your senses, only acutely aware of Marc’s gentle praises being muttered against your throbbing cunt as your became pliant beneath him.

Your muscles began to loosen after your sudden and intense orgasm, but the sensation didn’t last for long—Marc wasn't stopping. His tongue had replaced his fingers, thrusting in and out of your dripping pussy, his nose nudging at your clit in a move he must’ve learned from Steven, the cheeky bastard...

“Fuck, Marc, shit, I can’t—”

You couldn’t stop yourself from squirming, but he held you down securely, not allowing you to pull away from the intense stimulation he was still offering.

“Color.”

The sound was muffled, mixed in with the sinful slurping noises he was making, and your cloudy mind took a few moments to process his request, but as his fingers pressed harder into the divot of your hipbone, you threw your head back to respond. Stoplight.

“Green, Marc, but—God, fuck, s’too much, I can’t—”

“You can, and you will.”

Your eyes met his from his position buried in your mound, and the sight of his hungry eyes and the tone of his demand were enough to send you rapidly toppling over the edge yet again. The high-pitched wail that you let out was shameful, but Marc didn’t pause, watching you closely as you came apart on his tongue yet again.

As you came back down to Earth, he finally offered you a moment of reprieve, coming up for air to press a bruising kiss to your lips. The tangy taste of your arousal on his lips made your face flush hot.

“Taste so sweet for me, baby. Gonna give me another?"

You hummed, mind still foggy with bliss, but then his fingers were ghosting over your swollen clit, swiping carefully in circular motions on your tender flesh. Your head lifted to press into his shoulder, and he chuckled wickedly, increasing his pressure as you writhed beneath him.

“That’s it, baby, doin’ so well.”

He praised, hot lips pressed to your ear, and you could feel heat pool in your lower belly, red and hot and seething. Your lip was pulled between your teeth, hard enough that you could taste the metallic tinge of blood on your tongue as Marc sped up his pace. Your fingers wrapped around his arm, trying to pull him away, but his muscles flexed beneath your hold, and the overstimulation quickly made way for yet another stuttering orgasm, your cunt clenching around nothing as your teeth sank into the flesh of Marc’s shoulder, body twitching uncontrollably. You heard him hiss from the bite to his skin, but it quickly evolved into a groan as he turned his head to the side, littering your jaw with open-mouthed kisses as sweat dappled your face.

“There we go. Good girl, baby. Good girl.”

He cooed, finally pulling his hand away from your core. He lifted his slick-coated fingers and pressed them to your lips, and you absent-mindedly obeyed, sucking his digits into your mouth and lapping up the residual arousal from his knuckles. He hummed in approval, your face utterly fucked-out and eyes hazy. He pressed a soft kiss to your nose before sitting upright above you, his hands making quick work of his belt buckle as he pushed his jeans and boxers down simultaneously.

“Think you’re ready for my cock, pretty girl?”

Your legs were still quaking with aftershocks, your thighs sticky with wetness from your prior orgasms and Marc’s saliva. Still, even with exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs, the sight of Marc’s cock standing at full height, ruddy and weeping, was enough to inspire a nod of your head.

“Want you—fuck, Marc, want you inside me, please.”

“Sound so pretty when you beg for me, baby.”

Marc crept forward on his knees, stroking his cock with practiced precision as he slid between your split legs. You felt the head of his member slide experimentally through your folds, nudging at your clit. You bristled, the heat of his hardened length jostling your shot nerves. You nearly cried at the contact, hips pressing into the mattress and away from the pressure, but then the tip notched at your entrance and you wanted nothing more for him to sink into you. Before he pressed further, though, he slipped fingers beneath your chin, turning your head to look at him. Your lip was quivering with want.

“Color?”

He rumbled, brown eyes gentle, and your ass lifted upwards, trying to force his cock further into your awaiting channel, but Marc pulled away completely, drawing a long whine of protest from your chest.

“Easy, baby. Say the word, and I’ll fuck you just how you want. But I need to hear it.”

You swallowed, fingers sinking into his curls, and your voice was hoarse when you spoke.

“Green, Marc. Fuck me, please.”

Your swollen folds made way for his thick length as it sank into you quickly, bottoming out in one swift thrust as Marc groaned throatily.

“Oh, fuck.”

He growled, eyes squeezed shut tight at the sensation of your tight walls fluttering around him. His balls pressed firmly up against your ass, and Marc reached down to grip one of your ankles, hoisting your leg high above your head so the front of your thigh was to your chest. He offered a slow roll of his hips, his cock nestling tightly into you as he snapped them forward.

“Oh, fuck, yes, baby—so fuckin’ tight.”

His pace started to build, and soon he reached for your other leg to hold it above your head, effectively folding you in half. The new angle allowed him to reach even deeper within you, the head of his cock prodding at something devastating. You were moaning shamelessly, now, incapable of forming coherent words at this point as Marc continued to pound into you, his teeth bared as his hips pistonned forward.

“Always wanted to fuck you like this, baby. Knew you’d make the prettiest noises for me, knew you’d let me do whatever I wanted to you. You gonna gimme another one, baby? Gonna cum on my cock?”

A sob ripped through you at his words, your hips thrusting upwards to meet his strokes. He had one hand wrapped around each ankle, braced over your head as he railed you into the mattress, the bedframe creaking under the strain. You felt your stomach coiling yet again, but your body was resisting, so overstrung and sensitive that your muscles felt like they were on fire. Still, Marc’s pace was relentless, and you couldn’t stave off the overwhelming need for release as you started to fall apart.

The groan that Marc offered was animalistic as your pussy clenched down on him, hard, throbbing rhythmically as you surrendered yourself to the onslaught of shockwaves that pulsed through your core. You felt faint, weightless, the crux of heat in your center exploding.

“Oh, fuck me, baby, oh my God, did you just—”

His words dissolved into a growl as he pounded into you harder, and it was only as you slowly regained your bearings that you could feel the slickness coating your thighs and Marc’s abdomen—you’d squirted all over his cock.

“Jesus, not gonna last much longer, baby, so fuckin’ good.”

His head was bowed, curls falling into his eyes as he rammed into you, balls slapping against your asscheeks with each thrust. Punched-out moans passed through your lips surreptitiously as you tried to maintain your focus, although your consciousness was slipping away.

Marc’s left hand released your leg and you felt his fingers swirl over your clit again.

“Gonna cum for you, baby, but you gotta gimme one more, first.”

You sobbed, body lurching off the bed as if you were possessed, your knee curling over his shoulder.

“Oh, fuck, Marc, I can’t, s’too much, please, just want you to—”

“Not gonna cum until you do.”

He spoke through gritted teeth, a hardened determination glinting within his crazed eyes. You drank him in—sweat dripping from his curls, nostrils flared, lips pulled up in a snarl, veins in his neck straining beneath the skin with his effort. His pace abruptly switched, his rapid thrusting replaced with a few slow, deep, and fucking bone-rattling plunges within you, the sound of his skin roughly slapping yours filling your ears. The change in tempo was too much, you were spiraling, and with a guttural cry of his name, you felt a blissful numbness erupt from within. Marc threw his head back as you clenched around him once more.

“Oh, fuck, baby, yes, yes, so fuckin’ good, God—”

You watched through half-lidded eyes as he pulled out of you hurriedly, hand reaching down to jerk his cock rapidly as he finally allowed himself to reach his release.

“Fuck, gonna cum all over you, baby, yeah, you ready? You want my cum?”

You nodded, whining greedily, your legs settling down on either side of him as you raised your hips towards him so you could feel his knuckles brush over your pubic bone with each rapid stroke of his cock. The desperation in your eyes is what hurled him over the edge.

“Fuckin’ take it, baby, I’m cummin’ for you, oh, fuck—”

His spend spilled all across your mound, spraying upwards over your stomach and some droplets even landing themselves atop your tits as he continued to jack himself off above you, deep grunts passing through his parted lips with each spurt of cum that he coaxed out. He was panting heavily, watching his white seed ooze across your skin and down his knuckles as he finally slowed the pace of his hand, squeezing one final drop of pearly liquid from the tip as he groaned, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours to catch his breath. You hummed, unable to open your tired eyes, but the intimacy of the action was welcomed as his lips just barely brushed over your own, a silent ‘thank you’ in the aftermath of an intense moment of passion.

You didn’t think it was possible to feel simultaneously weightless but so heavy at the same time, your limbs sinking into the damp sheets beneath you as you attempted to catch your breath. Marc nestled his face into the crook of your neck—an action vaguely reminiscent of Steven’s habit of nuzzling into you—and you felt him take a slow, deep inhale against your clammy skin, his warm breath fanning out along your collarbone.

You tried to stay awake when you felt his body peel itself from atop yours, but he returned moments later with a cool damp cloth to wipe away the evidence of both of your orgasms. You whined when the cold came in contact with the swollen, sensitive folds of your cunt before he moved up to wipe away his own release—Marc easily shushed you, pressing soft kisses against the skin after he wiped each spot clean. When he was finished, he haphazardly tossed the towel aside, crawling up towards you yet again.

Marc liked to be smothered. If you could take any one thing away from this moment, that’s what you saw—he laid down beside you, flat on his back, before rolling you over on top of him, your face pressed up against his pecs as your body settled between his legs. You hummed at the new position, his arms curling protectively around you, fingers of his right hand playing with your knotted hair. Your ear was pressed up against his chest and you listened to the steady rhythmic thumping of his heart, and you easily could’ve fallen asleep in an instant. Still, you wanted to enjoy the tenderness of the moment for a bit longer.

“You okay?”

Marc finally asked, and the vibrations from his throat reverberated down through his ribcage for you to feel. You breathed in long and deep, the feeling of his soft, warm skin comforting and familiar.

“’M great.”

You whispered, tilting your head slightly to look up at him. There was a small adoring smile on his abused lips, his brown eyes sweeping over your face in a way that only Marc could do—calculating, observant, as if he was looking straight through you. Sometimes, his unusual skill for reading people made you uneasy, but now, you felt completely relaxed beneath his scrutinizing gaze. It would be hard not to, when his eyes glowed as if you’d hung the stars in the sky just for him.

“…was that okay?”

Marc rephrased, and it was only then that you caught on to the insecurity he so desperately tried to mask. The crease between his brows betrayed him, making his concern for you evident. You smiled up at him reassuringly.

“Marc, it was great. You were great. You are great.”

Maybe it was the post-orgasmic bliss that had you feeling sappy, the endorphins boosting you higher into your serenity. The look on Marc’s face was heart-wrenching—the gratitude that shone in his beaming smile, the glow of his face as it lit up with pride, the—dare I say—love, in his eyes, as he gazed upon you.

A comfortable silence settled between you, and the hand that was resting against your back reached down to pull the duvet up and over the both of you, cocooning you in its warmth. You let yourself settle further into Marc’s welcoming embrace, eyes fluttering shut as you let your exhaustion take you. You quickly spoke before you found yourself dozing off.

“So…what’s your typical post-sex ritual look like after this, hm?”

You questioned, lifting your chin slightly to see his face. His eyes blinked open to look at you, and he frowned, pursing his lips.

“Believe it or not…with most of my, uh, hookups, I—uh, I have the tendency to leave in the middle of the night so I’m not there when the girl wakes up—gotta leave ’em wanting more, y’know?”

You laughed breathily at that, but hoped to hide how crestfallen his admission made you feel.

“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll try to sneak out after you fall asleep—”

His arms tightened their grip around you, and there was a sort of pleading look in his big brown eyes as he shook his head.

“No, you don’t have to do that, really, I just thought you should—”

“It’s really okay, Marc, I don’t mind.”

You assured with a shy smile, but he shook his head more firmly this time.

“No. You aren’t just a hookup, and you aren’t just some girl.”

Your lips parted in a silent gasp, eyes searching within his to try to gauge his thoughts. He seemed genuine, insistent. Your heart practically melted in your chest.

“But, I don’t—”

“Please, just stay?”

He hadn’t meant for it to come out as a question, and certainly hadn’t meant to plead—this was more vulnerability than he’d ever displayed to you before, something you’d ached to see for as long as you’d known him. For him to open up to you, to trust you, to finally let you in.

You mustered up whatever strength you had left to lift yourself up and press a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. You gazed up at him through tired eyes, face aglow from his apparent affections.

You didn’t give him a verbal response—you didn’t need to. Instead, you settled back in against him, curling your head into his shoulder, pressing your face against the warm skin at the side of his neck. Sleep came easy for both of you—Marc felt lighter having finally let his impermeable facade yield to you, even if just for a second.

Tomorrow, you intended to convince him to drop his guard completely.

POINTS OF CONTENTION: - relinquishing control - embracing uncertainty - asking for help

TREATMENT: - practice submission - express vulnerability - communicate needs

You briefly got déjà vu when Marc opened the door to his apartment for you, a familiar cheeky smirk adorning his handsome features. This time, however, your expression matched his own as you stood on your tiptoes to plant a peck on his lips, pushing past him and into the flat as if you owned the place. He was startled at your forwardness, and he would be lying if he said your surge of confidence didn’t make him slightly uneasy—what had gotten into you?

“Back for more?”

He managed to quip, quirking a brow at you as he shut the door behind him. You approached Gus’ fish tank and tapped the glass a few times to get his attention, leaning over to watch him swim around aimlessly for a few seconds—it gave Marc a perfect view of your ass through your yoga pants as you bent down, and he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared unabashedly.

“I can see your reflection in the glass, you asshole.”

You jabbed, a teasing smile lighting up your face as you met his gaze in the mirrored tank, but he didn’t stop his shameless ogling—instead, he watched you with darkened eyes, a wicked grin on his lips.

“At least I don’t have to hide the fact that I stare at your ass every time I see you, anymore.”

Your brows lifted at his confession, and you carefully straightened up, turning to face him at an agonizingly slow pace. Your hands found your hips as you studied him with an amused expression. You stood across from him in challenge.

“So you admit that you’ve checked me out? Even before this little experiment?”

Marc fought hard to keep the smirk off of his face as he crossed his arms over his chest, sizing you up carefully to gauge your seriousness. You were clearly teasing him, but he offered a subject change nonetheless in an effort to avoid the fact that he just admitted he’d been eye-fucking you since the day you’d met.

Instead, his eyes flickered down to the small black paper bag that you had set by your feet, his brow raising in question.

“I see you brought props with you, this time?”

He closed the gap between you with two large strides, bending down to snatch the shopping bag from your feet before you could protest. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he peered inside, but his eyes widened when he realized what you’d brought.

“Jesus, Y/N. You dirty, dirty girl.”

His fingers reached in to pull out a pair of black silky restraints—it didn’t go unnoticed by Marc that the receipt was in the bag and the fabric still had a tag fastened to it. You must’ve bought them just for this occasion.

The expression on his face was practically carnal as he smirked at you, but something about the look in your eyes made him hesitate. You looked up at him shyly, reaching forward to thumb at the fabric before settling your hand into his open palm atop the silk.

“They’re not for me.”

Four words, and Marc was stunned into silence. His face fell, eyes wide as they studied you, expression bemused and slightly fearful. You swore you could actually see his face drain of color.

“We don’t have to, Marc, I promise—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just spring this on you out of the blue, I’m sure it’s not something you’d normally—well, I mean, not that I know what you’re into and everything, but I just thought it might be—”

“Slow down, baby, it’s okay. I just—took me by surprise, s’all. Wasn’t—wasn’t expecting it.”

You looked up at him thoughtfully, now hyperaware of the trepidation in his features. He avoided your eyes.

“Come on.”

You grabbed his wrist softly and guided him over to the bed, sitting down on the edge and gesturing him to follow suit. He sat down beside you and carefully turned to lay out the two black restraints on the mattress behind him. Then, he turned back to you, eyes gentle. You reached over to pull his hands into your lap.

“Marc.”

You started softly, and his eyes flitted to you nervously, an uneasy lopsided smile on his face.

“Listen to me. We really, really don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable. I know it’s—it requires a lot of trust, and—well, I don’t know.”

You fell silent, unsure of what to say or how to proceed. Marc was giving you that familiar calculating stare, taking you in and analyzing every breath you took. You grew impatient with his lack of response.

“Aren’t you gonna say anything?”

There was an apprehensive edge to your tone, your eyes round and full of worry, afraid to offend him or make him uncomfortable. You could see the gears turning in his head as he pondered.

“And this... of anything in the world you could possibly want to do with me, to me... this is the one thing you’d choose?”

You carefully nodded your head, squeezing his hands in your own.

“I think—I think this could be good for you. If—if you’re up for it, of course. No pressure.”

He hummed at your reply, before he turned to you with a small smile.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

You blinked once, then twice, surprised at his easy response.

“Wha—really? Are you sure?”

“I trust you.”

Maybe those words were just that—words. But you couldn’t help feel your eyes grow glassy as the gravity of his admission weighed on you, your heart soaring in your chest as you smiled widely at him, eyes crinkling at the corners. The glow radiating from your face made Marc’s shoulders roll back with pride—he would do anything just to see you smile at him like that.

Apparently, that really did mean anything.

You leaned over and kissed him deeply, hand sliding to cup his face as he pulled you against him, sliding you atop his lap easily as he sucked at your bottom lip.

You settled down onto his thighs, your core easing over his hardening bulge as you pressed your front into him, your pebbling nipples brushing against his chest as you kissed him feverishly. His hands held a bruising grip on your hips as you grinded against him, feeling his hold tighten with every brush of your clothed core over his growing erection.

He hummed when you pushed on his shoulders, coaxing him to lay back against the mattress as you pulled his shirt over his head easily. You guided him towards the headboard as you continued to kiss him, settling him carefully onto the pillows in the center of the bed. You drew your head back quickly, your breath catching in your throat as you drank him in—his dark umber curls a stark contrast to the white downy pillows beneath his head, his brown eyes darkening as he watched you with half-lidded eyes, spit-soaked lips parted. You’d never seen a prettier sight—and you knew how to make it even more enticing.

Your fingers traced up his chest and danced across his shoulders. You kissed him to distract from you sneaky movements as you reached behind yourself to retrieve the pair of restraints that had been discarded earlier. You let your nails skate across his nipples, causing him to hiss, before you gently pried his hands off of your hips. You grabbed each wrist carefully, intently watching his reaction as you guided them over the top of his head and towards the headboard.

You grinded down against his cock once more in an effort to relax his body—he groaned quietly, and you reached for one of the restraints, pulling his left arm straight out to the side and carefully winding the fabric around the bedpost before reaching to fasten it around his wrist. You watched his jaw ripple as you carefully looped the silk over his skin, tightening it just slightly to prevent his hand from slipping out. You tugged at the fabric lightly, testing its resistance, before you leaned back down to peck his lips.

“That okay?”

You asked carefully, nose brushing against his, and he squeezed his eyes shut, tugging against the binding before offering you a soft nod. You smiled at him graciously before repeating the action on his right arm, successfully rendering him incapacitated beneath you, his arms spread wide on either side of his body. You allowed yourself to draw back once more, the sight of him splayed out atop the mattress, completely at your mercy, caused a wave of arousal to rush straight between your legs. He must’ve felt the clenching of your thighs from where they caged his hips in, because he let out a breathy laugh.

“You like this, don’t you?”

His voice was low and hoarse, and you kissed him again, nodding against his lips.

“Yeah, Marc, I do. So pretty for me.”

You felt the warm huff of air that he let out at your praise, and you knew he secretly loved your verbal affirmations, even if he’d never admit it to you. You offered him one last kiss before slowly dragging your face back—his head followed your backwards movement, chasing the feel of your mouth against his, but he jostled at the feeling of his movement being restricted. His eyes opened suddenly at the sensation, as if he was surprised to find the restraints actually lived up to their name. You couldn’t help the tiny grin on your lips as he accustomed himself to his limited range of movement—you could feel the tightness in his muscles, his biceps flexing and tensing as he mindlessly fought to gain control back.

“Easy—you’re okay, I’m right here.”

You soothed, running your hands up his torso as his abdominal muscles contracted beneath your fingers. There was sweat beading at his hairline, his jaw grinding rhythmically as he finally opened his eyes to look up at you, forcing himself to inhale a steady breath in an effort to calm himself down. Your fingers rubbed at the tension in his shoulders and you felt him soften under your touch, becoming pliant beneath you as he allowed himself to settle back into the mattress, finally coming to terms with his current situation. You rewarded him with a kiss, leaning yourself forward so your front was pressed to his.

“Before we start, I need you to promise me something.”

His eyes followed you when you sat back upright, and he nodded for you to continue. You breathed.

“Marc. You have to swear to me that you will use the safe word if you need to.”

He rolled his eyes in response, but you squeezed your thighs together in response, putting an uncomfortable pressure against his hips. He glared at you, but you gave him a stern look.

“I’m serious, Marc. I don’t want you to think—to not use it just because you want to make me happy, or because you wanna seem like a big tough guy. You do make me happy, and I know you’re tough, regardless of whether or not you choose to tell me to stop. Okay?”

He could hear the sincerity in your tone, the genuine concern lacing your words. He swallowed. He wasn't going to lie and say it wouldn’t be hard for him to safeword—he didn’t like admitting defeat, showing weakness or cracking under the pressure. But this wasn’t some mission or fistfight with an adversary, he reminded himself—this was you. He was safe, and he trusted you, and he was supposed to enjoy this. Finally, he nodded at you, and you mumbled out a ‘thank you’ before pulling yourself off of him completely.

He watched you like a hawk, eyes trained on you intently, analyzing your every move in anticipation. You carefully reached for his waistband, and he obliged, lifting his hips from the bed to allow you to undress him. You pulled his briefs down in the same motion, discarding Marc’s final two articles of clothing and leaving him bare before you.

His cock was at full mast, resting atop his navel as he drew in slow, deliberate breaths, trying not to feel bashful beneath your scrutinizing gaze. You were still trying to fathom the fact that you had this Adonis of a man splayed out in front of you, completely surrendering himself to you.

He really had no idea what he’d gotten himself into.

“Color?”

You asked, kneeling back on your heels from your position beside him, one hand resting on his abs, just above where the head of his cock was patiently waiting. He breathed out a chuckle.

“You haven’t even done anything yet.”

You raised a brow, and at your persistence, he offered a roll of his eyes.

“Green.”

“Good.”

You smiled, fingers sliding down from his stomach to ghost over the tender skin of his shaft, causing a shiver to crawl up his spine. You were careful to take note of just how his body reacted to each ministration—the way his breath hitched when you finally wrapped your hand around the base, the barely-audible grunt when your thumb swiped the bead of precum from his slit.

You removed your hand briefly just to spit into your palm before you were back on him, beginning a slow and gentle pace of stroking him. He hummed at the motion, his heels digging into the mattress as he threw his head back into the pillows, fingers wrapped around each restraint tightly to give himself something to grip. Your other hand reached over to fondle his balls, and his hips jerked just slightly at the added stimulation.

“S’that feel good, baby?”

You purred, your hand gradually picking up speed as your jerked him. He groaned lowly, nodding at your question.

“Shit, yeah.”

You smirked, carefully shifting so you were kneeling in between his legs, lowering yourself down to lay on your stomach. He watched you closely, bracing himself as you leant forward and suckled one of his heavy balls into your mouth, your other hand continuing its steady pace.

You hummed around his sack and he grunted, abdominal muscles flexing as you popped it out of your mouth and traded it for his other bulb, tongue swirling around the flesh and listening to his small moans of pleasure.

He was trying to stay quiet, you noticed. You didn’t press him on the issue—you knew he wouldn’t be quiet for much longer.

You pushed yourself up and licked a long stripe from base to tip, tongue flicking over his frenulum which caused his hips to quake. You offered a few kitten licks to his slit, tasting the salty precum as you continued to stroke him steadily.

“Fuck, baby—just like that.”

He whispered, eyes squeezed shut at the sensations. He was holding himself back—you wanted him to fall apart.

You carefully drew the head of his cock past your lips, bobbing your head up and down over just the tip, matching your pace to that of your hand. He growled, and your eyes flitted up to watch his biceps strain as he tugged on his bindings, desperately wanting to bury his fingers in your hair. You sank your head lower, taking him deeper, lewd choking noises escaping your lips as you swallowed him down. His hips were weakly thrusting upward, now, his feet planted into the mattress to seek leverage in a sorry effort to fuck into the heat of your mouth. You didn’t stop him—you let him cling to the sliver of control he was desperately seeking, removing your hand to sink your head down completely, allowing him to thrust his cock into the back of your throat with his shallow movements.

“Oh, fuck, baby, fuck.”

He moaned, and you could see the muscles of his stomach clenching as you reached to fondle his balls again. You were breathing in carefully through your nose as he continued to abuse your throat, his length sliding in and out of your mouth sloppily. One sharp thrust caused you to gag and he let out a deep groan from somewhere in his ribcage—you could feel his balls tightening up, thighs flexing.

“Yes, baby, gonna cum in that pretty little mouth, yes—”

You sat up abruptly with a gasp, pulling your body from his completely as his limbs involuntarily jerked beneath you, his back arching at the sudden loss of contact. He yelped, and you could see veins bulging in his arms as he harshly pulled against the restraints.

“Jesus fuck!”

He cried out, hips falling back down into the mattress, defeated. You sat silently, watching as he tried to catch his breath. He blinked the bleariness from his eyes to fix his stare on you—there was a somewhat sadistic shine in your gaze as you met his eyes challengingly. When you didn’t back down, you were surprised when he let out a bark of a laugh.

“So this is your game, sweetheart? You gonna edge me? Really?”

He was trying to intimidate you—you could see right through him. He was mocking you, hoping to berate you into submission, into backing down. It wouldn’t work.

When you didn’t respond, he shook his head lightly, feigning composure as he lazily closed his eyes.

“Go on—have your fun.”

He offered, a small smile on his lips. You felt anger briefly flare up inside you, but you quelled it down with logic—you were in control, right now. You had all the power.

It didn’t matter how disciplined Marc’s psyche was—his body betrayed him. It told the truth. Your hand reached back up towards his shaft, and his cock jumped beneath your touch, thighs tensing just slightly. You bit your lip to prevent yourself from giggling with satisfaction—Marc’s face was set into a look of quiet concentration, lips pulled into a straight line.

You started again, the same way you had before, with your spit-soaked hand slowly escalating until your lips joined in. His noises were subdued—they came from deep within his chest, escaping through barely parted lips only when he was powerless to stop them. He writhed beneath you, responsive to your touch, and when the telltale signs of his approaching orgasm began revealing themselves again, you ceased your movement.

“FUCK!”

He yelled, back arching off the bed as he attempted to curl into a sitting position, but he was snapped back into complacency by the fabric bound to his wrists. There were veins bulging in his neck as he seethed, sweat beginning to bead along his hairline. You blinked up at him innocently as he glared at you, eyes dark and filled with disdain.

“So fuckin’ pleased with yourself, huh, baby? This what you wanted? To rile me up? God, if I wasn’t tied up right now, I’d—”

“You’d what?”

He blinked at your interruption, your voice showcasing your defiance.

“What’re you gonna do, Marc? Nothing. You’re not gonna do anything. You’re gonna sit back, and fucking take it, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

His jaw clenched down tightly, his face practically trembling with rage. His nostrils flared as he stared at you, trying to win the silent battle between you, in complete denial of the fact that you were completely in control. He wasn’t backing down, unwilling to admit that he was powerless—so you reached forward and scratched your nails down the length of his shaft. He shouted in protest, hips jolting backwards to retreat from the uncomfortable sensation, and he growled lowly in his throat before sagging back into the mattress—his eyes were still on you, but his lips were sealed shut.

“That’s what I thought.”

You antagonized, leaning down to take his cock back into your mouth. It was taking increasingly smaller increments of time to get him to the edge, and you continued—once, then twice more. On the third round, he’d nearly lost it, but you squeezed around the base of his cock tightly to force the orgasm to dissipate as it peaked.

“You fuckin’ bitch.”

He snapped, and the words seemed to surprise him just as much as they surprised you. A heat of the moment utterance, offered in a second of desperation—but he didn’t take it back. Maybe you should feel hurt—instead, you felt pride swell inside you as you stared down at him wickedly.

“Such mean words from a guy who can’t even see me through his tears.”

It was true—there were tears streaming down either side of his face, eyes red and puffy as he fought viciously against your torture. He shook his head at you, overwhelmed with anger, but he couldn’t hold back the sob that practically pulled itself from his lungs when you gave a single lick up his shaft.

“Oh, fuck you, fuck—”

“You can cum whenever you want, Marc. I’m not stopping you.”

You tone was even and steady, expression blank as you studied him. His brows furrowed, his eyes suspicious as his breathing slowed again. You smiled coyly at him, innocently, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips—he didn’t kiss you back. He just watched you as you carefully resumed your position between his legs, waiting to hear your stipulation.

“You just have to beg for it.”

Marc’s venomous laugh was replaced with a long whine as you took his cock in your hands once more, stroking him a few times before simply holding him there. He sneered at you.

“I don’t beg.”

“Then you don’t cum.”

You shrugged easily, releasing his throbbing member from your grasp and allowing it to drop back down against his stomach. You could see every muscle in his body fighting for release—his heels digging into the mattress, his arms continuously straining against their restraints. You tutted at him condescendingly, your eyes mocking sympathy as you stood from the bed. He studied you carefully as you began to remove your clothes until your were completely naked. You rejoined him on the bed, loving the way his eyes turned ravenous as he admired your body.

“If you wanna torture yourself, Marc, that’s your choice.”

You purred, crawling up until you were straddling him. You watched the way his breath hitched when you were hovering over his cock, and you felt it jump beneath your cunt—but instead of dropping down, you crept further upwards until you were straddling his ribcage. He looked at you, confused.

“So what are you gonna do?”

His voice was gravelly and hoarse, raw from the moans you had been pulling from him. You leaned down and shoved your tongue into his mouth—he whimpered at the intimacy, but you pulled away soon after.

“I’m gonna ride your face, and you’re gonna be a good boy and make me cum on your tongue.”

The whine that he let out was carnal—you’d never heard anything like it in your life, and Marc might’ve been embarrassed if it weren’t for the painful arousal that was burning a hole through the bottom of his stomach. He tilted his head back as you began to position yourself over him, lips already parting in anticipation of tasting you, but you paused, your eyes turning gentle. Your hand reached down to stroke through his damp hair, and he pressed his head into your touch.

“Color?”

You whispered, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat at he swallowed. He breathed in once, then twice, before meeting your eyes again.

“Green.”

You settled your knees on either side of his head, your folds already soaking from your time toying with Marc—you shuddered at the feeling of his warm breath on your awaiting cunt, and with trembling thighs, you slowly and carefully lowered yourself onto his mouth.

You lurched forward at his eagerness, his tongue immediately breaching your entrance and slurping up the arousal that was flooding your pussy. You yelped in surprise, arms reaching forward to grip the headboard as you tried to keep most of your weight off of him, allowing your face to just barely skate over his features.

He mumbled something into your core, and you lifted yourself from him in concern, worried that you'd hurt him.

“What?”

You asked for clarification, brows furrowed, but when you met his eyes from between your legs, they were dark and gleaming savagely.

“I said, sit the fuck down.”

He growled again, and you could feel the headboard bend as he strained against the fabric on his wrists, obviously wanting to grab your waist and pull you down onto his mouth with full force. You let out a breathy laugh before you eased your way back onto him, allowing yourself to relax more against his face. The thick muscle of his tongue immediately began fucking into you and it wasn’t long before you were grinding against his face, his nose rubbing up against your bundle of nerves and his mouth savoring your juices. Your head was thrown back in ecstasy, and Marc watched you from his position between your legs as you came apart on his tongue, quiet cries of his name leaving your lips as your rode out your high on his mouth.

Marc greedily lapped up all you had to offer, and he almost whined in disapproval when you began picking yourself up off of him—but then you were turning around, and he got a perfect view of your perfect ass as you slowly settled your cunt back down to his mouth and—

Fuck. He nearly cried into your pussy when he felt your lips attach themselves to his cock, and he jostled against you, hips jolting upwards of their own volition. He squeezed his eyes shut and tipped his head back, trying to fight the orgasm that he was already teetering on the edge of. You hand came up and squeezed tightly around the base of his cock, helping stave off his climax.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”

You hissed, and Marc gulped before diving straight back into you cunt, his lips wrapping around your puffy clit as he suckled it into his mouth and flicked over it with his tongue. You moaned, you fingers beginning to stroke his cock again. When you turned your attention back to his length, however, his mouth immediately stopped its movement. You sank against him, rolling your eyes in theatrical annoyance.

“Jesus, you really can’t multitask, can you?”

“Y/N.”

He spoke your name lowly and with a warning edge, and you craned your neck to look at him—his head was peaking out from behind your asscheek, eyes desperately searching yours. You could see he was struggling to maintain his composure, but he kept his voice level and steady.

“I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop.”

He voice cracked at the very end of his statement, but you appreciated his honesty with you. You swiftly removed your hand from where it was wrapped around him and he let out a long sigh, steeling himself before attaching himself to your clit once more.

Your second orgasm came easily, creeping up and washing over you without warning as Marc continued to lavish your clit with his tongue, the obscene noises he was making only adding to your arousal. He slowed his movements as you came down from your high, lapping at your release as you slowly pulled you cunt away from his mouth. You pulled yourself off of him completely, kneeling at his side and pressing a sweet, gentle kiss against his lips. His face was coated in your slick and his eyes were alight with a sort of lovesickness, as if he’d completely forgotten the torture you’d been putting him through simply because he got to watch you fall apart on his tongue. You pressed your forehead against his for a moment before you swung your leg over his hip, finally settling yourself where he needed you most.

Anticipation flickered in his dark brown eyes, his body tensing beneath you as you reached between your legs to stroke his cock, using your dripping arousal as lube to give him a few tentative strokes. He hissed, his hips jumping at the touch, but he immediately froze when you pressed the head into your entrance. He held his breath.

“I’m gonna ride you now, okay?”

You asked, although it was less of a question and more of a statement. He nodded vigorously, eyes squeezed shut and head turned to the side as he braced himself for the feeling of your hot channel swallowing him whole.

“Marc.”

You probed softly, and he winked one eye open, looking up at you where you were paused, right in the moment before sheer bliss. You eyed him warily.

“Color?”

He smiled softly up at you, more relaxed than he’d been this whole interaction—finally, finally relinquishing his control and allowing you to take the reins.

“Green.”

The duet of moans that filled the room was intoxicating as you slowly eased yourself down onto his rock-hard length, the stretch offering a sting that was just painful enough to be pleasurable. Marc’s head was thrown back into the pillows as he began to ramble incomprehensibly.

“Oh, God, oh, fuck yes, so fuckin’ good, fuck—”

You braced yourself by planting your arms against his sturdy chest, raising up your hips until just the tip remained before slamming yourself back down, burying him to the hilt within you. A wrecked sob sounded from his mouth.

“Oh, fuck, God, I can’t—”

You settled into a steady pace, angling your hips backwards just slightly so his cock rutted up against that place deep inside you that sent you reeling. You keened, grinding back and forth against him as he moaned wantonly, knuckles turning white as he pulled on the restraints with every ounce of his strength. You orgasm was rapidly approaching, and with each careful plunge of his cock into you, you felt the coil tightening.

“Fuck, Marc, gonna cum on your cock, baby.”

You whimpered, throwing your head back as your walls clenched down around him. You must’ve blacked out for a moment, your vision going bright white as pleasure speared through you—when you regained your bearings and sensation over your limbs, your ears were blessed with a sound you weren’t sure you’d get to hear.

Marc was falling apart.

“Please, oh, God, Y/N, baby, please let me cum for you, I can’t—can’t hold it anymore, please, please, please, baby, please let me cum, pleasepleasepleaseplease—”

There were sobs ripping themselves from his lips as tears flooded his eyes and streamed down his cheeks, the muscles of his abdomen clenched so tightly you thought he might sprain something. The fluttering of your tight walls against him was unbearable, truly torturous—he couldn’t do it anymore.

His eyes blinked open to watch you as your hands crept up the length of his strained arms, fingers deftly untying the knots that held him hostage to the bed. His arms fell limp at his sides when released from their hold, and he looked up at you with wide eyes, glassy with tears.

You pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Been so good for me, baby. Go ahead and take what you want, Marc, it’s yours. Cum for me.”

Something snapped inside of him. A vein throbbed in his forehead as his hands flew to your hips, planting you firmly against him as he began to thrust up into you at a rapid pace, his hips slamming against your thighs loudly and roughly. You yelped in surprise at his sudden burst of energy, and he was staring intently at the place where his cock was splitting you open, hips relentlessly pistonning upwards into you as he slammed your body down against him to meet each thrust.

You didn’t expect to cum again, but the harsh drag of his cock inside of you as his hands grounded you firmly sent you hurling across the edge, your cunt clamping down on his aching length as you pulled him across the threshold with you.

“Oh fuck, yes, yes, gonna fill you up, baby, cummin’ so hard, fuuuck—”

Each harsh pump upwards was punctuated with a grunt as he spilled inside of you, his cock pumping you full of his white hot seed as he continued pounding into you relentlessly. Even as you came down from the climax that had blindsided you, and even after he’d completely emptied himself inside of your slick walls, he continued rutting up into you, his face contorted in a look of pain and determination as he gritted his teeth.

“Woah, Marc, hey, hey, slow down—”

You urged, reached to wrap your fingers around his wrists from where they were still firmly attached to your waist, the wet sounds of his cock still pumping in and out of you filling the room. His eyes finally looked up to you, the haziness clearing as your worried face settled on him.

“It’s okay, Marc, you’re okay.”

You assured, and he finally let your full weight rest down onto him, his body slowly rolling to a halt as the aftershocks of his intense pleasure pulsed through his limbs, blood pumping loudly in his ears. He was breathing heavily, his heart beating against his ribcage harshly, but his eyes watched you as you smiled down at him, reaching forward to cup his jaw in one hand as the other ran through his sweaty hair.

“There we go. There you are. There’s my handsome boy.”

All at once, he collapsed into a fit of sobs again, sitting up to pull you against his chest impossibly tight as he wrapped his arms around you. You felt your heart break as you coddled him, one hand stroking the back of his head and the other rubbing soothing patterns into the bare skin of his back. Years and years of internalized vulnerability spilled out of him in your embrace, and you held him there until his stuttering cries turned into shaky exhales, his face buried in the crook of his neck. He fell back into the pillows, pulling you down on top of him and keeping you snugly pulled against his body.

His cock was still nestled deep inside of you, and you could feel Marc’s cum leaking out and creating a stickiness between your thighs and atop his hips. When you shifted to move, he tightened his hold, his breath wavering just slightly.

“Please, don’t. Just—stay with me. Like this. For just awhile longer. Please.”

He whispered against your temple, begging for this brief moment of reprieve, of absolution, of solace. You sank into his chest, breathing in his heady scent and allowing yourself to indulge in the intimacy of this moment, too—a moment of comfort, of safety, of resolve.

Marc had one final thought before sleep overtook him.

Is this what being okay feels like?

TAGLIST: @kezibear143 @gingermous @josephquinncore @steven-grants-world @am-3-thyst @fanofverymanythings @vaneyvfs @theboggyman @belladri @roserfz27 @nowayhomerry @justanotherkpopstanlol @bagsy-not-it @elles-mind-palace @pimosworld @winterbiip @moonmoonboys @icuminurbutt @spxctorsslxt @fandomqueen74 @freerangesweets @wumpsquill @wordacadabra @lunaleah @hornkneeforbucky @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

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devilstruly · 2 months

Text

DETANGLED

pairing - sakusa kiyoomi x fem. reader (with any hair type that isn't pin straight)

summarization - you are frustrated when you meet with your best friend and he's tired of you speaking badly about yourself

includes - mutual pining, dogs shipping their owners, rich boy kiyoomi, sexual tension (+ anything i might've missed)

a/n - please accept my sincerest apologies bc this is incredibly self indulgent 😭😭. i wrote this on a bad hair day and i just kept thinking about kiyoomi and his pretty hair. also both he and reader have dogs. kinda short, not my best work. again apologies

A cold wind blows through the streets, sending a part of Sakusa's coat flying behind him. The man inevitably shivers as he buries his nose deeper into the knitted scarf and balls his gloved hands into fists.

Above his head, the sky is a very soft shade of gray, with the clouds so thickly condensed into a barrier for the sunlight. Across the dog playground a loud bark can be heard, the sound feeling all too familiar to the man.

He smiles softly beneath his mask when he sees the energetic doberman, happily approaching his friend. And soon enough, the owner joins Sakusa's side as well.

'Hi!' You greet him with a smile when you take your place on the man's right, with your back leaning against the metal fence.

'About time.' Sakusa's remark earns him an eye roll and he can't help gloating a little on the inside.

'Listen I almost had a mental breakdown over my hair you should be lucky I even got here.'

With a huff you cross your arms over your chest, blowing away a stray hair that disrupted your view. To your surprise however, Sakusa turns to face you, eyes roaming over the strands formed into a very messy updo.

'I told you before, your hair looks fine. You're stressing over nothing. Again.'

'It's not nothing!' You protested. 'I just wish I could make it look prettier. Like get the curls to be defined or something so it's not just a blob.' Your reasoning was followed by another eyeroll, this time accompanied by a small pout.

Sakusa looked in the direction of the two black dogs again and stood quiet for a couple of seconds before he called his pet over. The black shepard rushed over happily, with your doberman trailing behind him.

Once they were seated before the two of you, the man crouched down and secured the leash before turning towards you.

'Let's go.'

'Where?' You questioned while mirroring Sakusa's previous actions and following him through the gate of the playground.

'Just follow me.’ Was the only thing he let be revealed before switching the topic of the conversation. 'How was your day?'

Sakusa navigates the busy streets expertly while he keeps up the conversation with you, before his steps come to a halt in front of a store. It's a pet friendly one, of course it is, because even though you're not aware of it, he plans on spending at least forty-five minutes inside.

Brows slightly raised in curiosity, you trail behind him, only to nearly head face first into his broad back when he stops.

'Gah! Warn a woman next time?'

He promptly ignores you and instead reaches out to touch the front strands that fell out of your bun.

'Hm.'

Feeling slightly exposed by his soft touch and the proximity, you do your best at avoiding direct eye contact, which he fortunately doesn't seem notice.

'I think these would work best for your hair type.'

His arm stretches out and places two bottles in the basket he picked up on the way in, before continuing.

'You use the shampoo twice, only on the roots, and the conditioner once, just the ends.'

You can only manage a small nod, feeling kind of clueless with him leading you through the store like this.

'I should've made a list...oh well...these will do.'

He shoves another load of products in the basket and at this point you've given up on trying to be of use, giving him free reign instead.

Once the two of you are in line, you instinctively reach for your wallet, assesing the items in the man's hands.

'What do you think you're doing?'

His voice is as smooth and gentle as ever, and his dark eyes fix on yours so intensely that you want to slap yourself for all the inappropriate thoughts that run through your mind.

'You're not seriously thinking of paying for all of this!'

'I brought you here, it's only fair.'

'Kiyo-'

'End of discussion.'

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!#sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #hq sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x you #sakusa x you #sakusa x y/n

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luvverslair · 2 months

Note

i saw that your requests were open so i was wondering if you could write about tf141 + the los vaqueros relationship with a medevac/medic reader. the reader would be independent and head strong but very empathetic and caring when it comes to their teammates (especially when they’re injured or reckless). thank you 🩷

hi !! thank you so much for your request, this is so cute i’d also to to apologize as i’ve never written for Rodolfo but I tried my best !! either way i hope you enjoy this was so fun to write !!

Price: Price would adore you, he was the kind of person who loved getting taken care of, when Laswell had insisted they get a medic. When Price first met you, he had gotten banged up on the field, as he walked into you clinic you introduced yourself as Y/n. You immediately got to patching him up, he asked if you needed any help but you strongly answered “No” which he liked, he liked that you were kind and would ask him what happened to him listeningto him ventbut never dumbed your self down for him or anyone do that matter. he definitely started not dreading getting injured as much with the promise he would see you.

Ghost: Ghost had always been the one to say he was “Fine” or his injuries weren't “That bad” when in truth they were, so he hadn't yet met you until he had to. He got severely injured while on a mission and was dragged by Price to your clinic, when he stepped inside you helped him by strongly commanding Price on where to sit him down and what to do while you grabbed supplies, Ghost found this interesting, who knew the medic would be bossing the captain around? But none when you started working on him you began asking him What happened and you began to losen up and even said “Im sorry that happened…” to which he responded “It’s okay love not you fault, thanks for patching me up” and after that day he came to visit you more frequently, while he would still keep small injures to himself he began to become more open with you.

Soap: Johnny knew you were coming in as the new medic the second he overheard Laswell talking about it, he had gone to your clinic on your first day to greet you not expecting you to be so, gorgeous? he immediately started playfully flirting with you as he introduced himself you introduced yourself then shut his attics down by saying “Well thanks for…this but if there’s nothing wrong with you I have stuff to do.” He sighed leaving your clinic, he would greet you everytime you passed each other to which you would respond but never indulged in his corny pick up lines. That was until one day he came in with a pretty bad wound, as you saw him walk into your clinic you sighed saying “Soap im deep in paper work right now I don’t have time for…” as you looked his direction examining him once again you realized his injury, you helped him on the table, once you started patching him up you sighed before saying “Sorry for being rude earlier I had no idea you were hurt” he smiled at you before saying “Oh do you only like me when i’m bleeding out do ya?” you gave him a glare before he said “I’m just kiddin around lass, it’s quite alright” you smiled at him mentally deciding maybe you would give him a chance.

Gaz: When you first met Gaz, you didn’t really pay any mind to him, he would come in and out of the clinic for stuff. Up until now it was all minor injuries things like scratches, cuts nothing major, he would also thank you and be in his mary way, you would hear his fellow teammates joking with him outside and from what you could gather he had somewhat of a “crush” on you. You found he sweet but payed it no mind as you were to busy to deal with things like that. That was up until today when he had came to you very sick, he had a very fever and could barley keep his head up, you began grabbing medicine as you asked him sternly “Why didn’t you come in earlier? this could be serious Gaz.” to which he mutter out “M sorry I didn’t wanna bother you…” your face soften as you walked up to him handing him the medicine and a glass of water while holding a cool rag to his head, after a few moments you finally spoke out “Your never a bother, Gaz, Just promise me next tell you come in when you start to feel sick?” he looked up at you before smiling back “Promise.”

Alejandro: You had met Alejandro when a helicopter had taken you over to a battlefield, he had been fighting along side Price and the others and had been severely wounded, when you got over to him you began working on him, he was making sly flirtatious conversation with you to which you shushed him as so you could focus. After you fixed him up enough to make it back to a hospital he was taken by helicopter to one. You didn’t see him for a few days after until he stopped by your office knocking to caught your attention, You looked up at him saying “Hey, how are you feeling you healing up ok?” to which he smirked back at you replying “Oh yeah i’ll be fine, just wanted to come by to thank you for helping me out there probably would’ve died if it wasn’t for you” you scoffed back saying “I’m sure you would’ve been alright, but no problem try and stay safer next time hm?” he turned around and while he was walking out he said “Will do, doc”

Rodolfo: Rudy had been dragged into you clinic by Alejandro after he suffered a nasty stab wound, you began inspecting the wound before turning to Alejandro and saying “Could ya give me some space i can feel you breaking down my neck, I promise i’ll take care of him.” Alejandro put his hands in the air in a sign of defeat as he left the clinic, Rudy laughed while saying “You know how to tell someone off I see eh?” you scoffed back replying “I guess you could say that…how’s your wound feeling? I’m almost done patching you up and I gave you a shot for the pain but if you need anything just say.” He looked at you inspecting you for a moment before saying “ll be fine, thank you for helping me out.” you responded back “No problem just get some rest will ya” he smirked back at you saying “Will do, Doc”

ahh this was so fun to write !! I don’t know if I did your request justice and I feel like i could’ve done better but I hope you enjoy !! thank you again for requesting and feel free to leave any and all feedback.

luv, luvver

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bananami · 2 years

Text

husband material

a/n: I make no apologies, I made fun of Gojo a lot but I can't help making fun of the characters I kin ok...as you can tell I am unwell and clearly in love with one Nanami Kento. Please enjoy this purely self indulgent one shot that is just me ranting about how Nanami is the perfect man. n e ways- cw: some language and it eludes to sexual content, so you know the drill

"If you had to choose any sorcerer, who would it be?"

"Any sorcerer to what?"

"Like to date. If you had to choose," Gojo was leaning over the couch in the Jujutsu High lounge, wearing a smirk like he was confident in what your answer would be, "who would it be? And why is it me?"

You let out a laugh that's more mocking than genuine. "It would definitely not be you."

Gojo's jaw drops, like he can't believe it. For a very long time he's quiet - very unlike him - in utter disbelief. It had been a joke, but he was your best friend. If not him, then who? He needs to know.

Again, he asks. "So...who then?"

"Easy. Nanami."

"Nanami?!"

"Nanami."

"Why?"

"You're telling me you wouldn't date Nanami if given the opportunity?" You put your cellphone, giving up on the game you were playing seeing as Gojo was not going to let this go.

"That's not what I said." Gojo plops himself down at the opposite end of the couch, looking eager and ready for any new gossip he could wring out of you. "But I can't date myself, so therefore I would pick the next best option."

"He's definitely the best option."

"Respectfully disagree."

"That's fine." You shoot back. "Everyone is entitled to their wrong opinions. Especially you."

Gojo is once again silent. Until. "I hate you."

You can't help the chuckle that escapes.

"Why?!"

"Why what?"

"Don't be coy. Why Nanami?"

"I'm sorry," you give him a genuinely confused expression, "have you met the man? He's incredibly good looking, financially stable-"

"I'm also those things."

"Emotionally competent enough to hold a relationship for longer than three weeks-"

"That's...yeah ok, that's-"

"Is the type of man who gets along with both of your parents, so much so that they ask you every week when you're on the phone with them why the two of you aren't married or at the very least engaged yet-"

"This is getting very oddly specific."

"Radiates an aura that subtly screams 'I have a huge dick but I don't brag about it'"

"Clearly you've thought a lot about this."

"Somehow explains things without mansplaining them to you. Like if you were to ask him to explain how the stock market worked he would sit you down and make economics sound like the sexiest thing in the world while still remaining respectful."

"That's not fair. You know I'm bad at economics."

"I'm serious. He's like a total catch. Husband material. Dating isn't enough. If you date that man, it's endgame. He's already picked out the perfect ring and planned the entire honeymoon."

"Perfect is a strong word. Some would say it's too subjective even."

"He's the type of man to slow dance with you at 3 am in the kitchen of your upper class suburban home that he probably paid for in cash, while your two kids sleep soundly in their little bedrooms upstairs all tuckered out from your weekly family outing."

"Again. Very oddly specific."

"Face it, Gojo. Some men are just walking green flags." You stand and pat him on the shoulder, comforting him as he pouts. Clearly this wasn't the conversation he was hoping for. "But I have to get to my next class before my students get started without me, or Maki might accidentally give another kid a concussion. And I don't feel like explaining that to Yaga again."

Gojo waited until you were out of the room to huff in exasperation. "Psh. I'm a green flag."

"Yeah, if you're colorblind."

The sudden voice on the couch at the back of the room makes Gojo startle and jump in his seat.

Nanami lays just out of direct line of sight from the couch Gojo is sitting in, the one you were previously lounging on as well - so much so that Gojo has to lean over to see him lift the small folded towel from over his eyes.

This only sours Gojo's mood even more. "Well, I bet you're just so impressed with yourself right now."

Nanami lets the towel fall back over his eyes. "Don't feel bad Gojo," he can't contain his smirk, "not all of us can be husband material."

#nanami fluff #nanami x reader #nanami x y/n #nanami x you #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk headcanons #nanami kento

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bakubunny · 5 months

Text

give and take

a/n: retired (disabled) shota x disabled reader hurt/comfort fluff. pls read all the tags; this is very self indulgent bc that’s how i feel like writing today. also i did a quick grammar check but this is generally unedited.

tw: neurological disorders, tics, muscle spasms, speech problems, dissociation, functional seizures, established relationships, l-bomb, reader is called baby, babygirl, daddy as nickname/title (used once)

You stood in the kitchen, chefs knife in hand as you cut the last of the vegetables out before you. Shota rinsed rice at the sink on your right. You froze briefly before a muscle spasm shot through your hand, then a small tic. It was hardly any movement, but he caught it in the corner of his eye. Five years into retirement, you’d swear Shota was still sharp as ever.

“You okay?” he asked.

The sound of water stopped.

There was a slight hesitation in your voice. “Yeah. I’m good.”

With a few measured slices, the job was done. Your hand seized again. The large knife clattered onto the counter.

“Shit, sorry,” you said. More for yourself than him, perhaps.

Another small vocal tic.

Shota glanced your direction. “Let me take care of the rest.”

“Really, I’m-I’m fine, Sho,” you replied, transferring the cut onion onto a plate.

The subtle shift in his face told you he held his tongue this time when he’d rather not. Sure, you had a bad habit of pushing yourself too hard, but Shota had no room to talk on that. He knew - especially now - that life didn’t stop just because you did.

You shut your eyes; one pulled back and rolled for a second. Your body grew tired and heavy. “Just been a long-”

One moment, you were standing, the next, your legs gave out beneath you. There was a clang when the metal bowl of the rice cooker hit the floor. Rice and water splattered nearby as Shota caught you, body limp in his arms.

“Baby?”

An eyebrow twitched in response. Your head lolled forward painfully. Shota pulled you back into his shoulder and carefully lowered you to the floor, your head in his lap. A muscle spasm ripped down your spine as your back arched, muscles so tight that your extremities shook and your vision blurred once it passed once your eyes opened. Head foggy and empty, you fought your body to respond. A small groan left your throat.

“I’m right here. I love you,” Shota said, running his fingers through your hair.

Another look of fear crossed your face with a whine. You wanted to apologize and crawl into his arms, but your body stayed still. And your husband knew you too well.

“Don’t be sorry.”

You laid with him as spasms came and went, along with your awareness of the things around you. When you came to a little, your fingertips stretched out seeking his hand, so he reached for yours.

“Hey, babygirl. You with me?” he said.

“Mhm.” You still couldn’t move much. But this was something.

“Am I okay to carry you?” Shota asked.

“I… think so,” you said.

With relative quickness and the ease of a practiced hero, he gathered you up in his arms and carried you to bed.

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆

You laid in bed with Shota, your head on his shoulder, finished dinner plates on the tray he’d set at the end of the bed, and sighed.

“Sometimes I really hate all of this,” you said. “I hate that you have to do so much for me. You’ve got enough to handle.”

“You’re the love of my life. Why would I leave you to suffer?” he asked.

When you stayed quiet, he continued. “It’s give and take. You do just as much for me.”

“I know…” you replied. “Sho?”

“Mm?”

“If… if I take care of the dishes, will you take a bath with me?” You played with the hem of his shirt.

Shota smiled softly. “You want daddy to wash your hair, baby?”

A grin pushed at your cheeks. “Maybe, yeah.”

“You don’t need to do anything to have that,” he replied. “I have the energy tonight. Let me take care of you.”

You hugged him tighter. “Thank you.”'

if you’d like to be added to my tag list, let me know. ♡

gremlins: @arlerts-angel @dcsiremc @darkstarlight82 @bookcluberror @neon-gothicc @zazter-den @breadandbutter33 @i-literally-cant-with-this @rinalouu @stvrfir3 @r4td0lll @emmab3mma @aria-chikage @mhadabiandhawks4eva @yazminetrahan @doumadono @dreamcastgirl99 @maddietries @jazzafayesworld @karebear5118 @unofficialmuilover @cherriluvs35 @erensslut @ruu-https @hana-yuri @keiva1000 @katsul0vr @trickster-kat @ayeohoh-blog @dinomeow @flamgosstuff @mistressreaper @angelltheninth @anonymously-ominous @amberexe2 @hisconsistency @nanamisbigassschlong @223princess @honeeslust @naughtygobbo @acenanxious @blumoonwisteria @chaos-gem @levizonlywife @kxtsxkii @nuttyunknowndetective @katsuslover @yooxverse @jjamiee21

#i don’t miss days like this #and i’m glad they’re rare now #but here you go #hope u like it #aizawa shouta #aizawa shota #aizawa x reader #f!reader #x reader #disabled reader #disabled characters #bakubunny

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ghosts-bandwagon · 1 year

Text

This one’s for all my burnt out bitches; I see you and me too 😭 (this is super self-indulgent and I might be projecting a bit here and I apologize)

You were always told to muscle through it. From a young age, the phrase “grin and bear it” was seared into your mind. And you did. You bore the weight of the world with outward facing grace, whether it was balancing school and multiple jobs or holding it together for the sake of others, you did it with minimal complaint. It’s no different now that you’re with the 141. You’d do whatever was asked of you with no qualms, you’d bear the weight simply because it was your Captain or your Lieutenant that asked you to. You’d do anything for them, for your team, even if it meant swallowing your own tears after a mission gone sideways just to ease the ache of others. You’d do it.

Someone told you once that the thing they appreciated the most about you was your ability to keep it together for the sake of others. You’ve been riding that compliment for years.

And while it was certainly appreciated among your team, there was one who despised it. The rage would build in his stomach when you’d accept a task, knowing damn well you’re overwhelmed with everything else you’ve taken on. His jaw would clench when he’d see you willingly take over for others, molars threatening to crack under the pressure.

It needs to get done anyway, sir, what’s one more item on the list?

You ignored your body’s cry for a reprieve, you ignored your mind’s plea for a single moment of nothing, you ignored the squeeze in your chest that longed for a chance to catch your breath. I can do this for them. I don’t need a moment. I can’t stop because if I do, I might not be able to start back up again.

You were sat in your room, leg bouncing under your desk as you typed away report after report, empty styrofoam cups littered along your desk, you chased your coffee with more coffee, just one more and then I can finish this. A knock on your door couldn’t even force your eyes away from your computer but still you invited them in,

“We need to talk.”

Fuck, how you hated that phrase. It plunged your stomach to your heels, but you took a deep breath, saved your document, and turned to face a very pissed off Ghost.

“What about, sir?”

And then he saw it, he truly saw it. The dark rings under your eyes, the empty coffee cups strewn about your desk, the almost imperceptible tremor in your hands as you picked at lint on your shirt.

“This needs to stop.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I know what you’re doing, and you need to fucking stop.”

Why was it so terrifying to be seen? Shouldn’t it have been a relief? But the accusation forced a lump to form in your throat and made your heart rate pick up speed,

“I don’t-”

“Don’t argue, shut the fuck up and listen.”

You’ve heard your Lieutenant snap at people, but he’s never directed it at you. It was terrifying and it invited the tears you’ve long since buried to come forth and join the fray,

“The last thing I need is for you to fall over, half dead, because you don’t know how to stop.” His words were harsh but you knew him. You knew how to read between the lines. He cares, he sees how hard you struggle, and it kills him.

“I just wa-” You bit your lip to try to keep it from quivering, a last ditch effort to keep your tears at bay,

“I know.” He walked in and stood in front of you, “I need you well. And you’re no good to us buried in a grave of your own making.” He placed a hand on your shoulder and that was it. That simple touch is what broke the dam. Without realizing you slumped forward, head pressed into his abdomen as the tears started to fall.

“It’s alright. I get it, I do.” His voice was low, his rich tenor soothing you as his hand moved to rub soothing circles into your back. Your own came up and balled the hem of his shirt into your fists, the fabric wrinkling instantly in your white knuckle grip. His self-proclaimed cold heart ached in his chest,

“Just breathe, sergeant, I’ve got you.”

#ghost x reader #mw2 x reader #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #cod one shot

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wrongplacerighttime · 6 months

Text

right where you left me

hi!! this one was…..a lot. it’s heartbreaking and angsty and sad…however (!!!) has a happy ending and i had the BEST time writing it. i think i went through 8,000 emotions in the process.

tw: smut!!!, mentions of alcohol use, sad harry, sad fmc, post-break up, mentions death of parent(s), the very taboo subject of cheating (please if this is not something you're comfortable with don't read this. i write for me and others who like these things, however I apologize if it makes you uncomfortable, but i enjoyed writing this and I hope others do too!!), (as always lemme know if i missed any)

wc: ………..13k.......IM SORRY. I thought about splitting it up into two or three parts but couldn't find a good place to split it up. so instead you just get one loonnnngggg fic lmaooo

this is my first time attempting to write something from third person POV. please let me know what you think and if you read this entire self indulgent story then i love youuuu so much. 🩷

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 𖥸· ─────── · ·

BRYAR

The silence of the apartment rings through Bryar’s ears. She wipes the tears staining her cheeks and stands from the bed, padding through the hallway to the bathroom. Flicking on the light, squinting as she does, her gaze travels to meet her own eyes in the mirror. Her eyes are sensitive from laying in the dark, and the crying she's been doing for the past four days doesn't help her appearance either. Sighing, her breath feeling heavy in her lungs, she tosses around the idea of finally taking a shower while staring at her disheveled hair.

The memory of checking the time is already gone from her mind but she remembers that it’s late. She looks at herself in the mirror for a moment longer. Eyes trailing from the circles under them up to her messy hair on top of her head. Part of her mind is contemplating whether or not she should’ve left the only man she’s ever loved. The other part of her mind knows she needed to because he never changed, nothing ever changed like he promised it would. However, she knew she would never love anyone that intensely ever again. Her eyes meet her own once more, and she lets her mind wander to the moment it all came to its tumultuous end

—

Bryar is standing in the middle of Harry’s apartment, her bag packed and hanging from her shoulder. She was dressed in the same outfit she waited all night for him in, the one she had carefully planned out for this day, the day he promised that he would be entirely hers, no interruptions. It was her birthday, after all. They were supposed to go to dinner. She waited all day for him at his place. He never showed. Never texted. Never called. She knew it would happen. It happened a lot recently. Things used to be so different. It never used to be this way. She never had to beg him for his attention before.

She knew he’d be coming home any second. It was late… a few minutes after midnight, the usual time he would come home from the bar he went to with his friends. The reservation they had at a restaurant in town was long forgotten. She called to cancel it after he didn’t come home. She didn’t move from her spot in front of the door. Not even when she heard the keys jingling in the lock. He swung the door open, his phone to his ear and laughing loudly at whoever he was speaking to on the other end. He was looking towards the floor, but when he noticed her there, with the bag hanging from her shoulder and the animosity behind her eyes, he stopped talking. Stopped everything. He didn’t even say goodbye to his friend, just hung up and put his phone away into his pocket.

“Bry, what are you doing?” He asked, confused. She scoffs, shaking her head and looking away from him into the apartment she knew she would be seeing for the last time.

“You forgot. Again.” she crosses her arms over her chest, biting the inside of her lip to keep herself from crying. Her chest was moving up and down rapidly. He looks at her for a moment…taking in her appearance, the way she was dressed…then he realizes. His eyes grow wide and he shakes his head slightly.

“Baby…I am so sorry. We were supposed to go out tonight. It must have slipped my mind, I’ve been so—” She cuts him off.

“You’ve been so busy. Yeah, I know. That’s what you say every fucking time, Harry.” She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. “I can’t keep doing this. I’m sorry. I just need to leave.” She puts her hands out in front of her, not wanting him to come closer to her.

“Okay…I understand." He says, not necessarily wanting to let her go when she feels this way. However, he understands that she's upset and doesn't want to be around him. "Do you want to do something tomorrow instead, it’s Saturday and—” Again, she doesn’t let him finish.

“No, Harry. I’m leaving you.” She sneers and he visibly flinches at her words. He shakes his head again.

“W-what?” He stutters, his eyes growing wider as he takes a step towards her. She ducks around him to the door, and he grabs her arm, forcing her to spin around and face him. Her eyes are angry and filled with tears, hating how her body betrays her like this when she’s upset.

“I can’t keep doing this. It’s been this way for a while, H. We make plans and you forget. I don’t know what’s more important than me but—” It’s his turn to interrupt her now.

“Nothing is more important to me than you.” His tone was firm, and he meant it. To him, he was telling nothing but the truth. He looks down at her, searching her eyes. He grabs her chin between his thumb and index finger and she jerks away from his touch. A look of hurt crosses his features as she steps back, putting distance between them. He had never intended for this to happen. He doesn’t even know how he allowed something this important to slip his mind. She had never shied away from him like this, never dodged his touch like it would burn her if he got too close.

“It doesn’t seem like it.” she whispers. “It’s my birthday, and you forgot.” Her voice trembles with the words.

“Bryar. Baby, please. Don’t do this. I’m sorry, so unbelievably sorry.” He falls to his knees in front of her, capturing her hands between his own. “Don’t leave. I know this is unforgivable, but please don’t leave.” he begs, literally on his knees for her, his voice quieter and full of more pain than she’s ever heard. She resists the urge to pull her hands away from him, wanting nothing more than for his touch to be comforting like it used to be, but now it just feels dirty.

“Harry…please.” She whispers, begging him to let her go. He looks up at her, his eyes flit around her face. He brings her hands to his mouth and kisses her knuckles, shaking his head once, eyes brimming with tears.

“I’ll change. I can change.” He stammers, and she shakes her head, swallowing the knot forming in her throat.

“I want to believe you…but I can’t sit around and wait for you to change anymore.” She gives him a somber look, the tears threatening to spill from her eyes as well. “I really wanted this to work. I just don’t think it’s going to.” She turns her back to him, walking towards the door of his apartment. She doesn’t look back. If she looks back she knows she’ll run to him and apologize for even thinking about leaving him.

Once in the hallway, she leans against the door, sobbing quietly into her hands, knowing this was for the best…but realizing that doesn’t make it hurt any less. On the other side of the door, Harry leans his forehead against the wood, his shoulders shaking from the sobs wracking his body. He stood from the floor and ran towards her as she left, but the door slamming in his face kept him from running after her. It all ended so quickly. He didn’t expect any of it, didn’t expect his entire future to collapse with the slam of the door.

—

Bryar shakes her head as if the memory will crumble and the pieces will become lost in the corners of her mind. She shoves it behind the metaphorical door, the one she reserved for the memories of him. She sniffles once and walks to the shower, turning the knob to a temperature that will hopefully wash away the bad memory. Standing under the shower head, she lets the water run over her face, closing her eyes and leaning against the wall. The amount of energy it sucks from her is tenfold. Quickly washing her hair and body, she rinses the suds away and steps out, wrapping the towel tightly as the cold air comes rushing in and creates goosebumps on her skin. She wishes that the memories of him could be washed away that easily, down the drain with the tears she shed for him.

Standing at the sink again, she glances up at the mirror. Her appearance is…better. Still, her cheeks are hollow and the bags under her eyes are a deep shade of purple. She brushes her hair, her teeth, and throws a t-shirt over her head, one that smells like him, making her way back to her room. The bed still has a lingering heat from her body, the sheets soft on her clean skin. She pulls the comforter up to her nose and pulls her knees to her chest. Sighing, her eyes feel heavy, and she drifts to sleep, knowing her dreams will be filled with the memory of him, the future she always imagined with Harry nothing more than a failed plan.

Hopefully tomorrow will be better, though she had a feeling this pain would last a lifetime.

—

Four Years Later

It’s been nearly four years. Bryar has moved on…or so she likes to believe. She never thought trying to forget him would be this hard. She tells herself she doesn’t think about Harry all that much anymore...but that’s the biggest lie of the century. She still sees his face on every passerby on the street, she’s convinced she smells his cologne everywhere. She plays pretend, pushing the memories of him away, locking them up behind a wall in her mind. If she continues to tell herself that she’s moved on, that she’s happy…maybe one day it’ll be the truth. The truth is that he fucked her up forever. Every corner of her apartment still reminds her of him, even after she tucked all the memories in a box and shoved it in the back of her closet.

“Baby, have you seen my tie?” Sam, her boyfriend, comes striding into the room. She sucks in a breath, his voice pulling her from her mind. She half smiles, and he pulls her to his chest in a tight hug. “You look stunning.” He whispers into her hair and she smiles. Sam has been there for her for the past two years, giving her a hope she didn’t realize she needed. They met at work, and from there the rest is really history.

“Sorry, no. I haven’t seen it.” She wraps her arms around his waist, squeezing and breathing in his cologne. She turns back towards the mirror, pushing an earring into her ear and smoothing her dress with her hands. “I’m pretty much ready though, I can help you look.” She leans her back against his chest, staring at him through the mirror as he runs his hands down her arms. They have an invitation to attend the wedding of a couple of Bryar’s friends. It’s been awhile, and she hadn’t seen Celia since right after Christmas a couple of years ago when she brought Derek home to meet her friends and family. Life got busy, Bryar got a new job, Celia moved across the country, and things just never seemed to work out when they came to town. Luckily, Derek agreed on a wedding close to Celia’s hometown, and when Bryar got the invitation she was over the moon.

Bryar walked out of the bedroom and through the hallway and to the living room, searching every surface in between for Sam’s tie, her eyebrows knitting together when she can’t find it, either. She swore she had seen it on the coffee table. She kneels on the floor, peeking under the couch. Perhaps it fell onto the floor and got kicked under there. She spots the shade of maroon that matches her dress, reaching under, saving it from the dust bunnies living under there. The light catches something when she moves the tie and she squints, only able to make out the shape of a square. She reaches under again, feeling around for the object and when her fingers graze the cool surface, she slides it out. The back of a polaroid picture stares back at her, and she’s not really sure where it came from.

She flips it over, her breath catching in her throat. Looking back at her from the little square, is Harry. He’s laughing and sticking his tongue out, and she is in the picture too. Laughing with her eyes squeezed shut, head leaned over on Harry’s shoulder. They looked so happy. She brings her hand to her mouth in surprise and she just stares at the picture. The memory of the night it was taken comes flooding back to her, hitting her like a sucker punch that steals the breath from her lungs.

—

SIX YEARS AGO

The cheap bottle of white wine on the table had just a sliver left in it. Bryar’s glass was nearing empty and Harry’s was still half full from the first pour. He had abandoned it about an hour ago for something stronger, he said.

They were sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, a vinyl spinning quietly on the record player across the room. Harry stands, making his way towards the shelf to switch it out for something different. Bryar watches as he crosses the room, bringing his glass to her lips and claiming it as hers.

“Why are we even sitting on the floor?” She asks, slightly slurring her words while a laugh escapes into her glass. She looks around, the room spinning slightly, effects of the entire bottle of wine she drank hitting her almost all at once. Harry looks at her over his shoulder, smirking.

“I don’t know. I think we were going to do a puzzle or something and then we started talking and forgot.” He mutters, looking through the old records to play trying to choose one he thought she would be in the mood to listen to. Bryar had pulled out an old photo album, the one that somehow survived the fire that her parents did not. She told him memories from her childhood, ones that were clear and the ones that were a bit fuzzy around the edges. She was beginning to forget the way her mother’s voice sounded and the way her dad’s hand felt in hers, his scars she would run her fingers over while her little brain would ask how he got them. Harry finally chooses a record and smiles to himself, carefully putting it on the turntable and setting the needle to the eighth song on the track list. He saw the longing in her eyes when she spoke of them, wishing he could take her pain and wrap it in barbed wire so it couldn’t escape and hurt her any longer. Bryar hears the opening notes of the song from the guitar playing through the speakers. She smiles at him and narrows her eyes.

“Really?” She asks as he saunters back over to her.

“What? Don’t wanna listen to Dan Fogelberg?” He teases and she shakes her head.

“Not that. Just funny that you picked this song.” She states as he sits down next to her again on the floor. She listens as the lyrics of the song Longer play through the speakers. He tilts his head, his eyes sparkling in the dim lighting of her apartment. He waits for her to tell him more. “It was my parents' wedding song, that’s all.” she shrugs and he pulls her into his side. She sighs, leaning over on his shoulder and he kisses the top of her head.

“Maybe it could be our wedding song one day, too.” He mumbles against her hair and she smiles. “I wish I could’ve met them.” He whispers to her.

“Maybe.” she whispers back. “I wish you could have met them, too.” She says, her mind beginning to go down the road of “what-ifs”.

Harry reaches forward, opening the drawer of the coffee table and rummaging through her things that have collected in the drawer over time, little trinkets and pens and post-it notes. Bryar giggles while watching him, and he reaches further into the drawer and pulls out her old polaroid camera.

“Wanna take a picture?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows and she laughs.

“I’d love to but that thing is probably dead and the film probably isn’t any good.” She grumbles. “I couldn’t tell you the last time I used it.”

“Well let’s see…” He mutters, flipping the switch on the top. The light turns green and he glances up at her, smirking. He brings it up to his face, looking through the viewfinder. “Smile.” He says in a singsong tone. Bryar gives him a cheesy smile, and the flash goes off with a click of the button. The camera spits out a square film and Harry pulls it out and sets it on the table. She leans her head on his shoulder again, sighing. He holds the camera out in front of them, and starts singing the lyrics to the song playing in a silky voice, trying to imitate Dan Fogelberg and this makes her laugh. She falls into a fit of giggles from his singing and the amount of alcohol she’s consumed, and he smiles, sticking his tongue out and snaps another picture, the moment they’re in right now permanently etched into time. Once her laughing subsides she looks up at him through her lashes. He brings his face down and touches his forehead to hers.

“I love you.” She whispers.

“I love you more.” He whispers back, kissing her softly.

—

“Bryar, did you find my tie?” Sam yells down the hall, pulling her from her memory. She wipes the single tear that fell down her cheek quickly before standing and tucking the picture into the coffee table drawer. She makes her way back to the bedroom, tie in hand. Sam is standing in front of the full length mirror, buttoning his white shirt. She holds it out, wiggling it in his face, his icy blue eyes narrow at her and he smirks.

“You’re amazing. Where was it?” He asks, plucking it from her hand and situating it around his neck.

“Under the couch. Must have fallen and gotten kicked under there.” She states while making her way to her closet to retrieve her shoes. Carrying them by the straps to the bed, she sits, crossing her leg to slip on the first and fasten it. She repeats the action with the other at the same moment Sam finishes tying his tie. She stands, walking across the room and grabbing his jacket. She stands behind him, holding it out for him to slide his arms in the sleeves. He smiles softly at her through the mirror.

“Ready?” he asks, spinning around on his heel and pulling her into him. She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling his face down to meet hers. He kisses her softly, lightly ghosting his lips over hers. She smiles against his mouth, her nose brushing against his. She nods, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the room before they don’t make it out the door.

The drive to the wedding venue isn’t long, but it’s not short either. She sits in the passenger seat of Sam’s car, his hand resting comfortably on her thigh that’s exposed from the slit in her dress. The radio is playing quietly, the silence between them comfortable. She watches the scenery out the window, thinking of her parents and admiring the beginning of the leaves changing colors. Autumn was always her mothers favorite season. Celia picked the perfect time to get married, like Bryar knew she would. Celia was a bit of a perfectionist, in the best way. Bryar was sure she must have researched when the trees would be at their peak vibrancy for the most perfect fall wedding, and autumn has had always held significance to Bryar since losing her mom, feeling her presence with her the most during this time of year.

“Bry?” Sam says her name while clearing his throat, pulling her from her thoughts for the second time today. She turns her head towards him, watching as he keeps his eyes on the road. Her heart squeezes a little every time he calls her by the same nickname that Harry always did. She never had the heart to ask him to call her anything else. It is just a nickname, after all. However, it never sounds quite right coming from between Sam’s lips.

“Hm?” She hums, grabbing his hand and squeezing. He squeezes her thigh in response.

“I love you.” He says, tilting his head towards her and glancing at her for a quick second. He smiles, and she smiles back, dropping her gaze to their hands together. She hadn’t told him about her parent’s yet, the timing never felt right. She makes a mental note to talk to him about it soon.

“I love you.” She says quietly, returning her gaze to the window. Does she? If she loved him her mind wouldn't keep drifting to her past and comparing him to Harry. She would open up to him more, right? It's not that she doesn't trust him, he just seems to brush her off sometimes. She feels guilty.

“Something on your mind? You’re awfully quiet.” He teases her, she shakes her head.

“No. Just admiring the view.” She reassures him.

The rest of the drive is quiet. They pull down a long gravel road towards the extravagant wedding venue. Bryar’s mouth drops open and her eyes widen when she realizes how big the building actually is. She looked up pictures, of course. However, the pictures didn’t do this place justice. The windows are tall, glass, floor-to-ceiling and framed in black. The bright white walls stand out against the red and orange and yellow trees surrounding it. It’s evening, the sun setting in the distance creating a perfect golden hue over the property. Sam pulls the car into a parking spot and quickly steps out, striding to Bryar’s side and opening her door for her. He reaches his hand down for her to take for balance as her heels meet the uneven gravel. She grabs it, swinging her legs out of the car and standing, smoothing the wrinkles of her dress down. They walk into the venue, arms linked together. The ceremony doesn’t start for another thirty minutes, but they’re serving champagne. Bryar and Sam make their way to the bar, grabbing two glasses, she looks upward taking in the high vaulted ceilings along the way. After they secure two glasses in their hands, she spots a group of people she knows across the room and they make their way over to them.

They mingle with her friends, ones she hasn’t seen in quite some time. She introduces Sam to them, and the men fall into conversations of sports teams and work while the women are talking about the books they’re reading recently or the shows they’ve been watching. Some talk of work, what the next fiscal year will bring their companies and how successful they were throughout this year. Bryar smiles, sipping from her glass while watching Sam get along with the people she used all to spend all of her time with.

Out of no where, the air in the room shifts, making Bryar feel uneasy. She’s not quite sure why this feeling suddenly hit her, maybe the open doors are bringing in a chill. She looks around, eyes flitting across the room at the groups of people mingling, spotting Celia’s mother and they lock eyes. Bryar gives her a smile and a small wave, making plans to go and speak to her. Glancing around again, she quickly catches what appears to be a head of brown curls that she’s all too familiar with and her stomach drops. Before she can confirm if it really is who she thinks it is, they disappear around a corner and are out of her sight.

It couldn’t be him, right? These were her friends, not his. He didn’t really know Celia that well, right? Celia wouldn't have invited him knowing Bryar's history with him, would she?

She feels a hand on the small of her back, snapping her from her panic. She turns her head to see Sam standing beside her. Her eyes soften and she forces a smile onto her face, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Two lines form between his eyebrows as he pulls them together, concerned.

“Hey, are you okay? You look pale, like you saw a ghost.” He asks, leaning down to whisper into her ear. She pulls back, looking him in the eyes again and nodding once.

“Yeah…I’m fine.” She lies. She would know Harry anywhere. Even out of all the people she’s mistaken for him on the street, she figured out quickly it was never him. But she knew that was him. She had memorized the way his hair laid on his head and the way he moved through a room ten times over. It was etched into her memory. Her eyes flit across the room once more, feeling the anxiety and dread creeping into the pit of her stomach. Sam’s voice pulls her back down to earth for the second time in less than five minutes. She has got to get it together.

“I think it’s time for us to find our seats.” Sam mutters under his breath and Bryar nods again, tipping her glass up and downing the rest of her champagne. Her eyes scan the crowd, looking for Harry again, just to be sure...but there’s so many people and she’s not any taller than Sam, who can see over most of the crowd himself. She chews on the inside of her lip, the metallic taste of her own blood touching her tongue. She mentally curses herself, tearing the skin from between her teeth and trying to remind herself to not do it again.

Sam finds a seat right in the middle of the row of chairs a little further back, they could see the altar from here and not have to worry about being in anyone’s way. Bryar’s heart beats quickly in her chest, feeling her body temperature rise as she searches the room.

It wasn’t this hot before, was it?

Her heart stops, her breathing stops, her vision goes blurry. It’s as if her chest has caved in on her. Because there, across the room with someone that’s the complete opposite of her, is Harry.

She can’t tear her gaze away. It's a cruel form of self sabotage, wanting to look away but forcing herself to watch the way he leans into her and whispers in her ear. The woman's head turns to look at him and she’s smiling, and it gives away the one thing she didn’t want to accept, because Bryar used to look at him exactly the same way. They aren’t just friends, he brought her with him as his date. Bryar tears her eyes from the unknown girl and her breath catches in her throat when she looks at Harry. He’s changed. His face is broader, more defined with a hint of stubble growing. He’s grinning down at his date, before planting a small kiss to her temple and Bryar feels her heart breaking. The room is too hot. She feels dizzy. She stands abruptly, looking down at Sam, who’s looking up at her with confusion for what feels like the hundredth time since they left the apartment.

She has to get out of here, preferably before her lunch ends up on the floor in front of her.

“I’m sorry. I have to…I need to…” She can’t seem to get the words out. “Bathroom.” Is all she successfully says. She doesn’t wait for him to reply. She steps around other people in the row, and when she’s free from the confines of the chairs, she practically breaks out into a sprint. She quickly covers her mouth, feeling the nausea setting in before she’s thrown into another memory of Harry.

—

SIX YEARS AGO

The streetlights cast shadows around the darkened room, the rain pattering on the window. Harry’s hand trails down Bryar’s exposed back, leaving goosebumps in its wake. She sighs with content, her eyes drifting closed. She would stay like this forever if she could…she’d give up everything to be here with him always. He was her forever. She knew that. He knew that, too. He never wanted to be anywhere else.

“Hey…” he whispers, trying to get her attention. Her eyes flutter open, the exhaustion showing on her face, but the good kind. She smiles tiredly at him. He brings his hand up, brushing the strands of auburn hair out of her face and running the backs of his fingers down her cheek. Her heart feels like it’s bursting with love for him and can’t hold any more than it already does. However, every day, he does something to prove that she somehow can love him more than the day before. He smiles, tracing over every feature of her face with his gaze. There was nothing that could make her stop loving him, she knows that.

“I really love you, you know?” She says, and his grin widens. Trailing his hand to the back of her neck, he pulls her closer to him, their bodies meshing together like they were made only for each other. He fists her hair at the nape of her neck, pulling slightly to tilt her head upwards to him. He captures her lips with his, kissing her in a way that makes her belly do somersaults, the butterflies feeling more like a stampede. She could never get used to the way he kisses her. Always like it’ll be the last. He pulls away and brings his forehead to hers, nudging his nose against hers.

“I love you.” He says, looking into her eyes the best he can being so close. “You’re it for me, Bry. You’ll always be.” She blushes, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. He turns his head slightly, kissing her temple with such gentleness it makes her heart flutter. “My sweet girl.” He mutters against her skin. His hand runs down her hair flowing behind her on the bed, twisting a strand around his finger before she feels herself slipping into sleep.

“Stay with me forever?” She whispers, so quietly she’s not even sure he heard, not even sure she spoke it...maybe she only thought it in her tired mind. Her consciousness drifting slowly, sleep threatening to pull her under.

And for a moment, he pauses. He wanted nothing more than to spend forever with her. He would cross every ocean if it meant he had her always. He feels her muscles relax, her breathing beginning to steady. He’s sure she’s asleep. He’s careful not to wake her. He closes his eyes, preparing to fall asleep as well as he squeezes her against him, trying somehow to get her closer. She feels him, all of him, his warmth consumes her. Somewhere in the distance she hears him, just barely.

“Forever.” he whispers back to her.

—

Bryar shoves her way into the bathroom, the door swinging shut behind her. She grasps the marble countertop, the cold surface stinging her hands and bringing her back to reality. Her breathing is sharp, stinging her lungs with every breath. She quickly makes her way into a stall, bracing against the wall for support, convinced she was going to empty her stomach contents in a matter of seconds. She still feels dizzy. It wasn’t Bryar beside him, and it never would be her again. She leans against the wall of the bathroom, the cool tile soothing her rising body temperature. She feels clammy, sweat forming at her hairline.

This was the worst possible outcome. She wasn’t expecting him to be here at all, not even a warning from Celia. She can’t go back out there. She can’t watch him dote on the girl he brought. Can’t watch him kiss her temple like he used to do with her, the one gesture he reserved for her and only her, the one that used to make her heart soar, the one smallest gesture just happened to be the one that Bryar has felt homesick for since the day she left. She only has a few minutes before the ceremony starts. She can’t miss Celia walking down the aisle or she’ll never forgive herself.

She straightens, taking in a long breath before drawing it back out. She goes back out to the mirror, staring at herself. Her chest is blotchy from the anxiety she’s feeling. The nervousness takes over, but she pushes through it. Her hands are shaky as she reaches for the door handle.

Bryar makes her way back to her seat by Sam. He cocks an eyebrow at her and she smiles nervously. As she sits he turns his body towards her.

“Seriously Bry, what is going on?” He asks, concern lacing his question. She waves her hand at him, dismissing him.

“Just the champagne hitting me I think.” She lies and Sam doesn’t believe her for a second. Something is going on, something he doesn’t know about. His eyes search the room but he doesn’t see anyone familiar. He watches her, she keeps her gaze towards the floor, picking nervously at her nails and his eyes narrow. She glances up and across the room. He discreetly follows her eyes, looking the same direction and seeing a man sitting with his girlfriend. He doesn’t recognize them, but it’s obvious to him that Bryar does. He makes a mental note to ask her about it later.

Bryar is having what can only be described as an existential crisis. But there’s no time for that. The large doors in front of the aisle open, and the wedding party starts to make their way to the front of the room. The chatter around the room dies down, withering to nothing as the music begins to play. Bryar turns her head to watch as they walk, thankful that she doesn’t have to look forward and watch Harry anymore.

—

HARRY

Harry and Xena make their way to find seats to watch the ceremony. He decided at the last minute to ask her to attend this wedding with him. They had only been on a few dates. They met at the bar he frequents with his friends. The same friends that encouraged him to ask her out. Encouraged him to finally move on. Bryar wasn’t coming back.

He and Xena have got on quite well so far. He enjoyed her company, more than he liked to admit. She wasn’t Bryar though, and he knows it’s unfair to compare them. She didn’t deserve that. So he tries his hardest to push Bryar to the back of his mind.

“I’m so nervous to meet your friends.” Xena leans in, whispering in his ear. He pulls back and smiles at her. She looks up at him through her lashes and it kills him, the way she looks at him like that. His grin grows wider and he wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him.

“You’ll do great.” He whispers encouraging words in her ear, pressing his lips to her temple as his eyes close. He does it out of habit, a small gesture to ease her nerves. For a brief moment, his mind flashes to her, his Bryar. His eyes open and he’s pulled right back into reality when he sees Xena’s blonde hair. A reality he’s forced to accept. He sighs, running his free hand down his own face.

After a few moments, he hears the doors open signaling that the bridal party would be making their way in any second. He turns his head to watch behind him as the wedding party makes their way to the altar. His eyes search around the room, eager to place familiar faces to introduce Xena to after the ceremony. He catches the movement of all too familiar auburn hair. He barely catches a look at the side of her face before he can’t see anything but the back of her head. His breath catches in his throat and he coughs under his breath.

He can’t believe she’s here. In the same room as him for the first time in four long years. Of course, in the back of his mind he knew she would be. Celia is one of her best friends. Harry’s eyes widen slightly when he realizes she’s not alone. Her head turns a little and he can see more of her face again. She perches her fingers under her chin, gazing at the man beside her and smiling. His heart drops to his stomach. He remembers that look all too well. She used to look at him that way. He tries to look away but he can’t, his memories catching up to him.

—

EIGHT YEARS AGO

Harry was nervous for a date, and this was the first time he ever recalled feeling this way. He had just met this girl, Bryar, at a coffee shop a couple of days ago and she was absolutely stunning and she captivated him with her words from the moment she spoke to him. He would’ve been a fool to not ask her out after the conversation they had. He was surprised she had even agreed. They exchanged numbers, and agreed to meet at a sushi restaurant downtown.

He admired the way she spoke. The way she got a little too excited about something in their short conversation, they way her cheeks flush in embarrassment when she realized she was rambling to a stranger. He asked her out right then. No way he was going to pass up the opportunity.

The walk to the restaurant is short, but it feels eternal because he’s so nervous. When the sign comes into view, he sees her standing there. Hugging her body for warmth in the cold winter air. He picks up his pace, speed walking towards her so she doesn't have to wait any longer for him. When he approaches, their eyes meet and she smiles widely.

“Hi!” She says almost like she didn’t believe he was standing in front of her.

“You didn’t have to wait outside for me.” He states, a small laugh escaping between his words. She shrugs.

“It’s okay. It’s just a little chilly.” She reassures and he smiles at her, walking towards the door side by side. He holds it open for her, and he hears her hum when the warm air inside envelopes them. They were seated and once the first date awkwardness subsided, they stayed there most of the night. Talking about anything they could think of.

He talked about his job, she talked about her dreams and ambitions, she was in her final year of college and how excited she was to be finished with her Master’s degree. What childhood pets they had. Where he was originally from (hence the accent) and why he moved to the States. They shared childhood stories of friends and siblings and parents. Everything laid out on the table, figuratively speaking. The more she spoke the more he admired her. She had her hand under her chin and watched him speak, a smile creeping up on her face at the way he articulated his words and thoughts.

The waiter approached the table and informed them the restaurant would be closing soon, and both of them looked at each other with wide eyes, Bryar bursting out into a fit of laughter. It was the most beautiful sound he had heard in such a long time.

“I don’t really want this to end.” She admitted, catching him by surprise with her honesty. He was thinking the same, too nervous to say it.

“It doesn’t have to.” He says, his eyes meeting hers. She tucked her lips into their mouth, suppressing a smile. He signed the check and they stood, walking towards the door.

He wasn’t expecting it, the way she grabbed his hand and laced her fingers between his. He hesitates for a moment before closing his hand around hers and he feels his heart already swelling for this girl. Bryar. He knew, in that moment, that she was going to fuck him up forever. Having just met, his heart already belonged to her, and that was dangerous...and for some reason, he didn’t care.

They were inseparable after that.

—

Harry feels a hand slide into his, snapping him out of his memory. Xena has her head tilted to the side, worried.

“Where did you go just now?” She whispers, and he shakes his head.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry.” He reassures her. But was he fine? Bryar was right there. He’d been dreaming for another chance to speak to her. His breathing picks up, and he turns away. He can’t keep looking in that direction because all he was doing was staring at her. He had to get out of here, fast. He fists the material of his dress pants, turning to face the front of the room instead. He couldn’t leave yet even though he wanted to. He couldn't run off and steal the moment away from Celia. The attention would be on him and the last thing he wanted was for Bryar to see him, if she hadn’t already.

So he faces the front, breathing rapidly through his nose. Hoping to not draw attention to himself. Xena places her hand on his knee, and he closes his eyes.

He was so fucked.

—

BRYAR

She looks over at Sam with adoration, trying to keep her breathing at an even pace. She knew if she glanced to the left she would see Harry, and that made her anxious. The flower girl was walking down the aisle shyly, and everyone was cooing and smiling at her. Bryar kept her eyes trained on the doors as they shut, preparing for Celia to walk through them for her grand entrance.

The doors open and everybody stands. There Celia stands with her dad by her side. She looks ethereal. Bryar feels tears brimming her eyes and she swipes at them before they can fall down her cheeks.

But now she has to turn and face him again and she’s not sure what will happen when she does. Her mind races, ultimately unable to avoid turning around. She looks up at where Derek stands, and sees that he’s swiping at his own eyes, seeing the love of his life walking towards him filling him with unspeakable emotion.

Bryar’s eyes flit over to Harry. His back is facing her, but his plus one is still turned to watch Celia. Bryar’s eyes meet hers for a brief moment and she holds her breath. Surely Harry has told her about Bryar, the girl who broke his world. His heart. The girl smiles at Bryar and Bryar forces herself to smile back, a passive smile. Of course, this girl never did anything to her. She didn’t even know who she was, never seeing her before this moment.

The officiant speaking causes their gaze to break, Bryar averting her eyes forward. She tried to focus on the words, but her mind is still racing. Sam rests his hand on her thigh, squeezing gently. She peeks over at him, and he leans in to whisper in her ear.

“I can’t wait for this to be us one day.” He says, nudging her once with his nose and kissing right beside her ear. She smiles, but her heart constricts behind her ribs. They had talked about their future together before, briefly. Bryar preferred to live in the moment after Harry. With Harry she was always looking forward instead of in moment, and she realizes that’s where most of her disappointments lie. In the future. The future is not predictable.

The ceremony lasts all of 30 minutes, and then the guests are dismissed to the ballroom for cocktail hour while the newlyweds and their wedding party take pictures together. Sam guides Bryar through the doors, a hand on her back so she knows he’s right behind her. The ballroom is decorated from floor to ceiling, flowers hanging out of vases and spilling into the table in beautiful arrangements. Bryar finds hers and Sam’s names at a table with the same friends they spoke to at the beginning of the evening. Sam leaves her to go to the bar and get drinks for the table.

Bryar engages in conversation as best as she can. They are talking about something that’s out of her realm and only adds when she feels it’s appropriate. Sam is walking towards them, carrying six drinks somehow and she finds herself giggling at how he’s able to carry three cups in one hand. He raises his eyebrows at her, blowing out a breath. He hands them out, holding them until the respective person takes it and then sits Bryar’s in front of her last.

“Thank you.” She says and he leans down, pecking her lips.

—

HARRY

Harry grabs Xena's hand, his fingers lacing with hers as they make their way into the ballroom, the lights from the ceiling twinkling and reflecting on the windows. They find their table, seated with a few people Harry knows and he pulls Xena’s chair out for her to sit.

“Drink?” He asks, running a hand through his hair and she nods.

“Just something light for now.” She requests and he nods, his hand lingering on her chair as he walks away. He waits in line behind a slightly taller man with dark black hair. The man turns to look over his shoulder and Harry recognizes him as the one that Bryar is here with. His eyes narrow, a bit of jealousy fueling his mind, but he shakes it away. Someone comes up behind Harry, navigating around him and getting the attention of the man in front of him.

“Sam! Hey man. I didn’t know you knew Celia and Derek.” The man takes Sam’s hand in his, shaking it, obviously someone he knew as an acquaintance. Sam smiles a little.

“Oh, I don’t really. I’m here with my girlfriend. They’re more her friends than mine.” Sam informs the stranger and he nods.

“Oh right, Bryar. Tell her I said hello.” The man responds and Sam nods. Harry looks down at the floor, kicking the toe of his shoe against the hardwood. He bites his cheek hearing her name. Sam and the unnamed man part ways after a bit of conversation, promising to catch up later in the evening after the ceremony. The line moves forward and Harry listens as Sam orders drinks for what seems to be his entire table.

“…and then I need vodka cranberry.” He finishes the order on Bryar’s drink. Harry would know, he’d ordered that for her at least a hundred times, the only other drink she enjoyed besides the cheap white wine from the grocery store. He looks to the side, his eyes narrowing, the jealousy bubbling up in his chest.

“Forgot to make it a double.” Harry mutters under his breath, and to his surprise Sam turns around. She never orders a single shot. Ever.

“What?” Sam asks, cocking his eyebrow and Harry looks over at him, shrugging.

“Didn’t say anything.” He shakes his head once, denying that he said anything. Sam looks at him for another moment, like he’s trying to place where he’s seen him before, before turning back around to the bartender. A second later, Sam is juggling all six drinks in his hand and nodding once at Harry before finding a path to his table. Harry orders for himself and then for Xena, dropping a tip in the jar and winding around chairs and tables back to her.

He slides into his chair, sipping on his beer and his mind slips into a memory.

—

SEVEN YEARS AGO

Bryar leans over the table, pool stick in hand and aiming at the cue ball directing it to the eight ball on the table. If she sinks it she wins. Harry stands behind her, a hand protectively resting on her back. Last thing he needs is someone looking at his girl with their drunken eyes trailing up her body. Not that he would blame them for looking, but his jealousy doesn’t let them get away with it if he catches them. Her hips shift slightly against his hand and he smirks.

Watching her intently, he admires the way her hair falls over her shoulder and tucked behind her ear, the tip of her tongue sticking out a little in concentration. She takes the shot, and sinks the eight ball, winning the game with ease. She straightens, jumping a little and turning to face him. The excitement in her eyes makes them twinkle and she wraps her arms around his neck, pulling his face down to hers to kiss him.

“I won.” She grins, giggling a little and he pecks her lips again.

“You won, baby.” He mutters against her lips, pulling her a little closer to him.

“Get a room, you two.” Celia groans beside them and Bryar snickers, turning her head to face Celia and sticking her tongue out. Her temple touches against Harry’s chin and he dips a little lower to plant a small kiss there.

“Want a drink?” Harry asks, lips still pressed lightly to her skin and she nods.

“Vodka cranberry, remember to make it a do—” She starts to say, but Harry cuts her off.

“A double. I know. How you always want it.” He smirks, backing away from her before he turns away and makes his way towards the bar. He orders, looking over his shoulder at her while the bartender prepares their drinks. She’s already taking on her next victim in a game of pool, probably going to wipe the floor with them like the last unfortunate soul. There’s only one thought in his mind as he watches her, bent over the table to break.

He would marry her one day.

—

“Right, Harry?” his friend, Zack, asks from across the table. Harry blinks once, Zack raises an eyebrow waiting for an answer.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t really paying attention. Something on my mind.” He mutters, looking anywhere but at anyone at the table.

“Um…okay.” Zack says, turning back to the conversation.

The reception starts and the speeches and toasts to the bride and groom are all a blur. Harry doesn’t even get up to eat. He hasn’t really spoken to Xena and she hasn’t prodded him for answers either. The only thoughts racing through his mind were of Bryar. He just wanted to speak to her, he’d give up everything right now to be able to talk to her.

—

BRYAR & HARRY

Bryar and Sam are standing at a cocktail table outside of the reception area. Sam has been talking to them all night and Bryar tunes most of the conversation out, standing with one arm crossed over her middle and holding a plastic cup to her lips, chewing on the lip of it lightly. She’s leaning her head against Sam, eyes growing tired.

She turns her head for a brief moment, glancing around the room. Her eyes find Harry across the room, and it’s just become a habit as the night goes on. Her heart develops an ache that is so strong, she can’t believe how much seeing him has affected her. She lets her eyes linger on him a moment longer…what a mistake that was.

His eyes shift towards her, and their eyes meet.

She sucks in a breath, and she sees him swallow. It’s as if the entire world stops, everything and everyone in the room fades into the background, and it’s as if the only two in the room are Bryar and Harry. She wants nothing more than to run to him, throw her arms around him and sob into his shoulder, apologizing for leaving, for hurting him the way she did…but her feet are cemented to the floor. She knows she can’t. She loves Sam, and Sam loves her. As fucked up as it sounds, she feels like it doesn’t even matter because the only person she wants to love is Harry.

Her heart longs for him. She craves the way he used to say her name, the way he used to kiss her temple to calm her and remind her that he was right at her side, always. He stays where he is, his arm wrapped loosely around Xena’s waist and it pulls at her heart, constricting it in her ribcage. Harry can’t tear his eyes away and neither can Bryar.

He just wants to storm over to her and kiss her in front of the entire room. He doesn’t care about the consequences. He wants to grab her and tell her he doesn’t blame her for any of it. He wants to tell her that she’s still it for him, and he doesn’t expect her to come running back and give him another chance but he’ll always be waiting for her anyway. Seeing her tonight has only reminded him how much he's longed for her. But for whatever reason, he can’t bring himself to take that first step..

—

Four Years Ago

“...I just don’t think it’s going to.” Bryar says, her voice trembling on the words, she turns to walk away, and Harry brings himself to his feet, preparing to stop her from walking out the door. He doesn’t make it in time though, the breeze from the door slamming blowing back in his face. He feels the pang in his chest, the closing of the door making him accept quickly that this was real and she was gone. He leans his head against the hard wood of the door, allowing the tears to flow freely down his cheeks. They don’t stop, not even when the sobs take over his body, shaking and unable to breathe.

He’s not sure how long he’s been there. He doesn’t remember what time he even came home. At some point he turned his back to the door and slid down to the floor, staring at nothing. He finally blinks, turning his head and catching the time on the clock in the kitchen. Five A.M.

She had to come back, right? They were good together, she didn’t mean it. She was just upset. He would let her cool off for a couple days, and then he would try to talk to her. He pushes his body off the floor, muscles aching and screaming from leaning against the door all night.

He trudged down the hallway to his bed. It's unnervingly cold, the source of its usual warmth not present. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept without her. How could he sleep if she wasn’t there running her fingers down the expanse of his back, bringing her body closer to him for him to hold.

He tries to sleep, tossing and turning relentlessly for over an hour. When he’s had enough, he rises from the bed and decides to make a cup of coffee. The pang in his chest never goes away. His eyes feel sandy and he can’t fully open them. He stirs a little bit of milk into the mug, his motions slow and lethargic.

He turns memories over in his mind, combing through them to find the moment when everything started going south. Obviously, missing Bryars birthday was the straw that broke the camel’s back, the final nail in the coffin. He didn’t realize that she’d been unhappy, it seems, for a while. She never gave him any hint, they hadn’t really had a fight in what feels like so long. But isn’t that when he should have noticed? Was she tired of fighting him? Fighting for him?

He needs to see her. Needs to apologize. He’ll never stop apologizing, if that’s what it takes. He throws on his jacket and grabs his keys, leaving his apartment without a second thought. He doesn’t think of anything but Bryar on the way over to hers. She’ll answer the door. She has to, right? She was just upset, maybe she’s having second thoughts this morning.

He pulls up, throwing the car in park and practically jumping out before it stops moving. He sprints to her door, bringing his fist up to knock, but he pauses. He doesn’t hear her moving around inside. It’s silent. Was her car even in the parking lot? He steps back, looking around the wall to the lot and spots her car in its usual spot. Was she still sleeping? He finally knocks, waiting a few seconds for the sound of her footsteps coming to the door, except they don’t. He has a key, he could just go in. He fumbles his keyring around, mindlessly searching for the familiar blue key she had made for him not long after they started seeing each other, but it's not there. He doesn’t remember removing it, but maybe he did. He knocks again.

“Bry, baby please open the door.” He says, not yelling but loud enough for her to hear. There’s no answer back. No sound of her coming to him. Not the familiar turn of the deadbolt.

Nothing.

They can’t be over.

He was supposed to marry her. She was supposed to be forever.

He didn’t think forever was supposed to end this way.

—

Bryar is sure that someone has noticed them staring at each other by now, whether it be his date or Sam, yet she can’t seem to pull her gaze away. He nods his head to the side once, and it feels almost as if her heart was pulling towards him, trying to break free from the confines of her chest. His eyes flit across the room, and her gaze follows. She notices a hallway in his direct line of sight. When she looks back at him, he’s looking at her. Waiting.

Now she has the biggest dilemma. Does she stay at Sam’s side or does she finally after four long years get to hear Harry’s voice again? She’s frozen in place. Harry watches her, his eyes pleading with her to go and he’ll meet her there. He sees her apprehension. He knows what this would mean for her if she chanced being caught with him in the hallway.

She turns to Sam, looking up at him as he’s deep in conversation and it’s hard to make out the topic when her heart is beating so loudly it fills her ears. She watches him for a moment, thinking of every moment he was there for her, pulling her out of the darkness and giving her light whenever he couldn’t. She loves him.

But not in the way she loves Harry. Harry’s the only person who sees her for her. She doesn’t have to pretend around him. She doesn’t have to be something that she’s not. Never had to conform to please him, and she felt alive with Harry. She looks back across the room at him, he hasn't moved, his expression is one of longing. Pleading.

“Please.” She sees him mouth the word so clearly, begging her to give him any of her time. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath for the first time this evening, the air filling her lungs.

That was all it took.

Everything that happens next is a blur. She excuses herself to the restroom, slinking further away from the group. Her heart is racing, the closer that she gets to the hallway her palms start to sweat from the fists she has them clenched in. Once she’s behind the cover of the walls, she runs. Her dress is flowing behind her as she sprints, but it feels like she’s moving in slow motion, like she can’t get to him quickly enough. She rounds the corner and there he is, standing at the end and her vision betrays her from the tears brimming her lashes.

She doesn’t stop running, not until she reaches him. She flings her arms around his neck, burying her face between his collar and jaw. His arms wrap tightly around her waist and she breathes him in, the scent that’s lingered in her dreams every night since the last, and his arms feel like she’s finally home. He’s there, every part of him taking over her senses and it’s like she can finally breathe after drowning for so long. He lifts her feet off the floor, pushing her into a darkened room and closing the door behind them. She pulls away, looking at him…really looking at him for what feels like the first time, and she’s unable to stop the tears from running down her cheeks. He grabs her face, his eyes searching hers. He’s so close and it almost feels like she’s dreaming. She feels weightless, the room around her spinning.

“Bry…” Harry whispers, and it sounds so beautiful coming from him. She doesn’t waste any time. She grips the lapels of his jacket, forcefully bringing his mouth to hers and she melts. His hands find their way to her hips, gripping and pulling her closer to him. His body melds into hers, pushing her against the wall. His tongue brushes against her bottom lip, begging to let him in and she does without pause. They need each other. He pulls away, their breaths ragged and shaking, from the kiss or from just being in the other’s presence. His forehead rests on hers, and he’s just taking her in. All of her.

“I’m not going to be able to leave without you after this.” He admits without remorse, kissing the tip of her nose delicately.

“I don’t want you to.” She says in a hushed tone. She pauses for a moment, looking up at him and studying his features. “But H, I think we need to have a serious conversation. It’s been so long, we never talked about anything and I take full responsibility for that. I left you, and I never intended to. Never. I’ve regretted it every day since.” Her voice trembles, admitting how vulnerable she’s been. Her gaze falls to the floor, shaking her head. "I didn't think you wanted me anymore."

“Baby, it’s not your fault. I promise. I will always want you. I said you were it for me, and I meant it.” He grabs her face again, forcing her to look up at him. “I am so sorry, I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you, if you’ll let me.” He cards his fingers through her hair, the tips of his fingers ghosting down her spine making her shiver. “I love you, Bry, I always have. I never stopped.” His eyes trace over every feature of her face, soaking in everything he’s been missing.

“I don’t deserve for you to forgive me so easily.” She whispers, and he shakes his head.

“No. None of that.” He kisses her again, unable to control the desire to feel her mouth on his. She sighs into the kiss, and he feels his heart pulling itself back together. “If anyone should be asking for forgiveness, it’s me. Whatever you want, it’s yours. I’ll give you anything…anything you ask for. Please just don’t make me leave without you.” He says against her lips. She grabs his wrists, bringing his hands to her mouth and kisses his knuckles.

“Take me home.” she whispers and he grins, grabbing her hand and pulling her out of the room and down the hall, away from all of the people. Somehow Harry finds a backdoor and they sneak away into the night, laughing and running through the wet grass with their hands intertwined while Bryar’s shoes are in his other hand. Her head is spinning from adrenaline and nervousness. They find Harry’s car and she jumps into the passenger seat, Harry in the driver’s seat. He leans over the console and pulls her face to his once more, kissing her with everything he has. They drive away from the venue, her stomach in knots. Then she feels Harry’s hand snake over to her thigh, drawing small circles on her skin with his finger.

The drive to his apartment feels shorter than the drive to the wedding earlier in the day. They waste no time, practically sprinting into the building and up the stairs. He fumbles his keys and once the door is open, he pulls her inside. She doesn’t get a chance to take it in before he’s pushing her against the wall and kissing her again and again and again. The kiss is sloppy and wet, his tongue dancing with hers and teeth clashing together. He lifts her by her thighs, her legs instinctively wrapping around his torso. He forces himself away from the kiss, both of them breathing heavily and fast.

“Need you Bry.” He mumbles, dropping his lips to her collarbone and kissing lightly. “Always fucking need you.” Her eyes flutter closed and she hums. He knew how to make her melt with just his words, never forgetting what brings her to her knees.

“My girl. My sweet girl.” His lips travel to her shoulder, light touches leaving goosebumps on her skin, her body reacting like it’s never forgotten him. His tongue darts out, licking a stripe up to her ear and his breathing becomes heavy against her skin.

“Taste as sweet as I remember.” His voice drops an octave and Bryar audibly moans, forgetting that his words have always had such an effect on her. He pulls back, giving her a mischievous grin. His eyes have darkened and she down at him still holding her against the wall, her appetite for him becoming insatiable. She unhooks her legs, signaling for him to let her back down. Once her feet touch the floor she’s pushing his jacket off, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. Her movements are frantic and shaky, fingers slipping over the buttons struggling to open them.

“Fuck it.” She says, fisting his shirt and ripping it open, buttons scattering around the floor. Her mouth waters at the sight of him. She pushes him further into his apartment, he smirks down at her, walking backwards until his legs meet the edge of the couch and he sits. She climbs on top of him, knees straddling either side of his waist and her dress rides up and around her hips. His hands find her hips, grabbing and forcing her all the way down in his lap. She groans when she feels his hardened length pressed against her center. He moves her hips for her, creating a friction so sweet she can barely hold herself up.

“Been waiting so long for this.” He murmurs, running his hands from her thighs up the expanse of her body. He pulls at the string on the back of her dress, making it unravel and it falls off her shoulders exposing her breasts to him. He dips his head forward and flicks his tongue against her nipple, causing Bryar to throw her head back, a quiet whimper escaping her lips while grinding her hips against him still. She lifts her hips, dropping her hands to the button on his pants. He lifts his hips slightly, allowing her space to pull his pants down just enough. She palms him through the thin material still covering him and he drops his head back with a loud groan.

“Need you so bad Har.” She whines, and that sets him off. He wraps an arm around her, picking her up and standing in one swift motion, carrying her to his bedroom. He lays her down gently, climbing on the bed to hover over her, his knee spreading her legs apart.

“Where do you need me, sweet girl?” He teases her by running a hand lightly up her thigh, trailing it back down. She sighs, grabbing his hand and putting him right where she wants him.

“Right fucking here.” she says through gritted teeth. His smirk grows wider, knowing she didn’t want to be teased. She’d gone without his touch for so long she felt starved. He pushes the lace covering her to the side, his finger swirling around her hole and the arousal that was already pooled there. Her eyes flutter closed and he watches her, studying her face as he slides his finger up, tracing small circles on her clit. She gasps, mouth dropping open, he inserts his finger to the knuckle and has her writhing beneath him. He thrusts his finger, hooking and finding just the right spot with ease. Her hips thrust upwards and he pushes in another, stretching her out and making her squirm under him.

“Being such a good girl for me, Bry. Always my good girl.” His voice is deep and he’s practically drooling watching her come undone from something as simple as this.

“Need more.” she begs between breaths.

“More?” His voice is low and gravelly as he kneels down, but he never takes his eyes off her. His fingers work her open slowly, her hips moving at a rhythm that matches his thrusts. She whines and cries and begs for more. “He never touched you like this, did he? So needy for something so simple.” he teases her, but she doesn’t want to think about Sam. Not right now. Even though he’s right, Sam never made her feel this way and she knows it. Harry can tell, the way her body is reacting to him makes it obvious she’s needed this for quite some time. He takes his fingers away from her and her breath leaves her lungs. She feels empty and the burning in her belly only heightens. The emptiness doesn’t last long, he brings his tongue to her dripping hole and licking all the way to her clit, flicking when he gets there. Her fingers tangle in his hair and he works his tongue on her clit while he brings his fingers back into play, pushing them into her. She feels the coil in her belly tighten, knowing that she’s about to let go.

“Shit, H. If you don’t stop, I’m gonna—” she stutters out, her sentence breaking with a strained moan, and he works his fingers faster, lapping at her swollen bud. He shifts and stands over her, watching her unravel from just his fingers. He bends over, bringing his mouth to her ear and his warm breath tickling her skin.

“Cum for me. Wanna feel you on my fingers, sweet girl.” he coos in her ear, his soft words are all it takes for the coil to snap and she’s clenching around his fingers, the ecstasy flowing through her.

“So pretty.” he murmurs as he watches her face contort into an expression of pleasure from above her. He brings his fingers up to her mouth, instructing her to open, and she does without question, tasting herself on him. He strips the rest of his clothes off, her mouth drooling at the sight of his cock finally springing free. A sight she’s been so desperate to see. He positions himself over her, tugging himself a few times before lining up with her.

He drags the tip of his cock down her folds once, collecting her arousal before he finally pushes into her, and its bliss. His chin drops to meet his chest, watching the way she takes him before throwing his head back again as he slowly works his entire length into her.

“Fuck, Bryar. Missed this. Missed you so much.” He grunts as he bottoms out and she writhes under him, her mouth hanging open from the overwhelming pleasure taking over her body. “S’like you were fucking made for me.” He stills for a moment, lowering himself so he can kiss her. She whimpers and whines into his mouth, grabbing his face with her hands not allowing him to pull away from her. She grinds her hips up, pressing their bodies together to try and create some movement.

“Go, Har. Need you to move.” she begs against his mouth and he pecks her lips again, shaking his head.

“Wanna savor it. Wanna go slow, feel all of you, baby. Missed you so much. Need to remember this.” She throws her arm around the back of his neck, holding him close to her as he drops his mouth to her neck, biting and sucking and lapping at her skin. He pulls his cock all the way out to the tip before he slowly pushes back in, setting a slow, torturous pace. So slow that it’s almost cruel. Bryar stifles a needy moan trying not to make him rush, but she needs him. Needs the way he used to be with her. She wants it to feel like they never missed a beat.

“Harry, please.” she gasps out as his hips meet hers again. His lips brush against her ear.

“Thought you were my good girl?” He nipped at her ear, and she was growing frantic.

“A-am.” she stutters, tears pooling in her eyes. “Being so good, just missed you. Need you.” she says breathlessly. She feels herself finally slipping. Slipping into that headspace she had only ever been in with him, only one she ever felt comfortable enough with when she was with him. The tip of his nose runs against her jawline, too gentle with her. He knows what he’s doing, riling her up and making her needy. He knows what she wants…he wants it too, finding it hard to resist falling into the familiarity with her, like not a single second has passed since the last time.

“Har, this isn’t fair. You’re being mean.” she cries between shaky breaths, feeling the tears starting to run. He pulls back, looking at her face once and seeing her expression, hearing her say he was being unfair flips a switch in him. He takes her by surprise and slams his hips into hers, causing her vision to go white and her mouth falls open again. He’s going hard, harder than he ever has with her and her thighs tighten around his hips and he feels her clenching around him.

“This what you want? Huh?” He says through a snarl, his teeth clenched together behind his lips. “This fucking mean enough for you?” He curses under his breath, bringing his hands to her thighs and pushing her knees to her chest, creating a new angle that somehow gets him deeper. She moans and writhes and her thighs shake in his hands, but she hasn’t said another word.

“That’s what I thought.” he mutters, looking down and watching himself disappear inside her, his head tipped to the ceiling and his eyes rolling back. She wraps her hands around his biceps, digging her nails into his skin. He shifts his weight, bringing her thighs flush with his torso and her ankles by his head, he kisses her skin there, and his movements never falter.

“Look so pretty taking my cock like this, Bry.” He grunts, and she’s falling apart. She can’t hold in any longer and she comes undone, the pleasure pulsing through her veins. She goes limp under him and her legs falling from his shoulders, her body exhausted from being worked this way. Her arms fall over her eyes and quiet moans fall from her lips. Harry grabs her wrists, pulling her arms above her head and keeping them captive there. He holds them together in one hand as he bends to kiss her, snaking his other hand down her body that shakes beneath him. He just needs one more. Needs her to cum one more time. His fingers dance over her hip, tracing lightly to her sensitive clit. He pushes his thumb against it and her body jolts and she cries out.

“H-Harry, no. Can’t. Can’t do it. Hurts." She can barely get the words out as he draws small circles around the bud. She looks up at him with wide eyes, shaking her head and pleading with him.

“You can. Know you can.” he encourages her, feeling his resolve coming quickly. If he could just get one more from her, he’d let her be finished. He was just so desperate to feel her clenching around him one more time, he longed for the feeling for so long. He finally had her where he wants her and he’s not letting her be finished that easily. “You take me so well, just one more. Need to feel you one more time.” He kisses her temple as her head falls to the side…and her third comes not long after that, his fingers slowly petting over her clit makes it so easy and she cums hard. The moment he feels her tightening around him he lets go, his hips stuttering and her name falls from his lips over and over, his head dropping to her shoulder with heavy breaths.

They lay there like that for a moment, his weight on top of her as she lazily wraps her arms around the back of his neck. Their heartbeats are thundering in both of their chests, and he hums as her fingernails run over his shoulder. They’re both silent for what feels like too long, but finally Harry stands and he walks off to the bathroom, bringing back essentials to help her clean up. He goes to his closet, pulling out an old shirt for her to wear, one he’s seen her in countless times before. They settle in the bed, and he pulls her to his chest, breathing her in, and he feels complete. She feels at home. Their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces.

Bryar’s phone rings incessantly until it dies, and she can’t find it in her heart to care. The adrenaline that was coursing through her veins for the past few hours was finally fading, growing sleepy while wrapped up in Harry’s arms, and that’s all she ever really wanted. It was fate, seeing him tonight, and maybe she always knew in the back of her mind that they would find their way back to each other. She lifts her tired eyes to his face, from his tousled hair to the stubble growing over his chin. Smiling, she brings her hand up to his cheek. He opens one eye, peeking at her. She smiles shyly at him, and he smirks back.

“Hi.” She whispers and the smile on her face grows.

“Hi.” He whispers back, trailing his hand down her arm. He moves closer, kissing her forehead, then the tip of her nose, then her lips. She closes her eyes, nuzzling closer to him and breathes out deep through her nose.

“I love you.” She mumbles.

“I love you, Bry.” He says into her hair, the familiar scent of strawberry filling his senses.

“Forever?” She asks for reassurance, even though she already knew the answer, her eyes falling closed, sleep consuming her mind.

“Forever.” She hears him say quietly before she falls asleep with his hand drawing shapes along her spine, the scene identical to ones they used to share countless times, many years ago. She feels comfort. She feels safe. And if you wanted to make the long story of their love short…for her, it was always going to be him, and for him, it would always be her.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 𖥸· ─────── · ·

taglist: @indierockgirrl (tagging you because you said you wanted to be tagged in everything and i just love you so much for that <3)

#harry styles #harry #styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x fmc #fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles x oc #smut #right where you left me #wrongplacerighttime #exes to lovers #normal!harry #normal!fmc #harry fic #harry styles fic #harry styles au

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jinhyun · 1 year

Text

—drunk words.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader

genre: fluff, slight angst, college au, dance major hyunjin, art major reader, it's complicated kinda relationship

word count: 8.8k (my apologies once again)

summary: there is a saying about drunk words being sober thoughts. tonight, you really wish that applies to hyunjin.

warnings: drinkingggg (alcohol lol), cursing, one mention of throwing up (no one actually throws up), sexual comments as usual, MINORS DNI!!!!

a/n: so... i can't write anything short for shit when it comes to watercolor apparently 💀 but i've been away for a good while so let me just be self indulgent for my return lmao. anywayyy, this is part 46 of watercolor, i hope you guys enjoy and please, please, pleaaaaase let me know your thoughts and come gossip with me about it, i've missed doing that :')

Hyunjin was not happy.

Although his eyes had lightened up at the sight of you the moment he spotted you in between the crowd, it did not take a genius to notice he was not his happiest right then.

And how could he? You had been gone for nearly two hours now with no other than the guy you used to have a friends with benefits dynamics going on with. Granted, Changbin was one of his best friends and he trusted him, but that did not mean he would jump up and down with excitement every time the two of you made plans together, much less if said plans involved the two of you alone, without him.

So, it was fair to say, seeing the two of you arrive together at the bar, although he had seen it coming, did only add fuel to the fire that had been growing inside him that night.

"What took you two so long?" Chan asked, and Hyunjin could only internally thank him for saving him from having to ask you that question himself.

"We just got a bit caught up" Changbin admitted, taking a seat on the empty spot in between Lix and Minho.

"Doing what?" Hyunjin couldn't stop himself from bitterly asking, eyes focused on the drink he was currently swirling in his hand.

"Talking" you answered the obvious, catching his attention as you sat beside him on the booth.

And maybe, just maybe, the way you had leaned slightly in against his body and your arm had wrapped around his bicep, the next second taking it one step further by intertwining your fingers with his very receptive ones, was enough to make him feel at ease.

"So?" your eyes moved back to your friends, not without first having given Hyunjin's hand a reassuring squeeze. "What did we miss?"

"Not much," Minho shrugged, taking a sip of his beer. "Just lots of drinking".

"That's it?" you laughed.

"Yeah, we played truth or dare for a while, so you guys missed out on some pretty spicy stuff" Han filled you in with a playful smirk.

"Oh, and Felix hyung got a girl's number" Jeongin informed with a proud yet teasing smile.

"No way!" you excitedly covered your mouth with your free hand.

"Yah, don't make it sound like an impossible occurrence now" Felix whined, earning laughs from all of you. "She just came up to me and, well…"

"Are you calling her?" Bin moved his eyebrows up and down in a teasing manner.

Felix shrugged, a small smile curving up his mouth as he stared into his cup. "Maybe…"

You and Chaeryeong squealed in excitement, not missing another second to start talking Felix into it and managing to get everyone else involved in the conversation, as everyone seemed to have a say on whether Lix should hit the stranger up or not.

Everyone but Hyunjin, you couldn't help but realise.

While all your friends went on and on about their different points, he remained quiet next to you, only listening to what they all had to say, if even that, since he looked more spaced out than anything — his mouth opening every now and then only to take a sip of his drink, as words seemed to be something he refused to let out of it.

"I'm sorry I took too long with Changbin…" you apologised when you guessed what must've been going through his head, speaking low enough for only Hyunjin to hear.

He shrugged, not finding it in him to look up at you. "You wouldn't answer my texts".

A small sigh escaped your lips. "My phone was in my bag, I wasn't paying attention to it. I should've known you'd try to contact me and keep it next to me, I'm sorry".

Hyunjin nodded, yet as expected said nothing.

Biting on your bottom lip, you reached your hand up to cup his cheek and make him look at you. When he didn't protest and his face was now only a couple of centimeters from yours, you pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose.

"I'm really sorry, Jinnie" you apologised once more, this time looking into his already softening eyes. "I promise nothing happened, we were just talking while having dinner and got a bit too caught up in the conversation. It won't happen again, hm?"

You could tell he was not entirely convinced yet, but the small nod and the weak smile he gave you was enough for you to start smothering him with kisses all over his face.

You managed to get a giggle out of him right as your eager lips had been pressed under his chin and reached down to his neck, being stopped by his hand cupping your cheek and guiding you back up, right onto his lips.

It didn't take you long to react and wrap an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss by simply touching his bottom lip with your tongue — that being all he needed to gently pull at your hair and have you tilt your head back, so he could slide his tongue into your mouth and softly meet yours.

"You guys go get a room" Seungmin's disgusted voice had you two faintly pulling away.

"Leave them, they're cute" Cherry pouted.

He shrugged, nonchalantly bringing his cup up to his lips. "We're cuter".

"Ew, and you have the audacity to tease us?" Hyunjin called him out, smoothly resting his arm around your shoulders and letting his hand fall loosely over your chest.

"At least they're not sucking faces right in front of us" Han joined in.

"Not today, maybe" Lix mumbled, earning a glare from Seungmin.

"In Y/N's defense, she hardly ever makes out with Hyunjin hyung in public" Jeongin took your side.

"Oh no, I've seen them" Minho shut his argument down immediately.

"Can we all just agree that both couples are disgusting?" Chan proposed, getting instant affirmation from everyone but the couples in question.

"You guys are just mad that you don't get smooched every day" Chaeryeong childishly stuck her tongue out.

"Then can Y/N go smooch Hwang somewhere else since they get to do it everyday anyway?" Minho asked with a cynical smile.

"Nope," you mirrored his feigned cheerfulness, leaning into Hyunjin's chest as your hand went up to intertwine with his. "I'm asking for forgiveness here".

"Go ask for your boyfriend's forgiveness in his bedroom then" Changbin taunted.

Hearing everyone laugh, you played off the burning feeling in your cheeks with a roll of eyes. "He's not my boyfriend".

The whole table erupted in laughter once more, as they called you out on not believing shit of what had just came out of your mouth.

Everyone knew you were joking, for the lack of label in your relationship did not make any difference when it came to the way the two of you acted around each other — and that was, like an actual, established couple.

But although everyone laughed, not everyone was amused.

So you knew the moment Hyunjin's hold on your hand loosened up and his body tensed up against yours.

You weren't sure why, but suddenly it felt like you had just managed to beat an obstacle only to stumble with another one.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-♡

A part of you wanted to believe you were overthinking. The part of you that would always overthink everything and come up with scenarios that would only make you anxious wanted to believe you were doing just that now. The sight of Hyunjin right next to you, however, told you otherwise.

You had physically felt his mood drop the moment you said he was not your boyfriend. You had felt his hand loosen up its hold on yours.

He had carried on with the conversation all of you were having like nothing had happened, laughing and joking around just like he would always do, but you could feel him distant from you. And now that some of them were at the bar and some others at the dance floor, leaving the two of you oh-so-conveniently alone at the table, not a word had been spoken.

He was avoiding eye contact. He was avoiding your touch. Playing the lack of them off by drinking and staring into the dance floor like it was the most interesting sight ever.

You were not making all of that up, you were sure.

What you couldn't fully grasp your mind around was the reason for the sudden drop in his mood. You were not lying. In fact, you were sure you two had joked around like that before and everything had been just fine. Or maybe you had been too blind to realise it had bothered him all along.

Whatever it was about your remark that had managed to touch a nerve of his this time around, you needed to find out so you could make it better.

"Are you mad at me?" you asked, leaning closer to him so you could be soft-spoken and still be heard.

"Why would I be mad?" he answered dryly as ever, no eye contact at all.

You felt your heart sink.

"Was it something I said?" you carefully asked once more.

His unamused eyes —finally— fixed on you. "You know what you said".

"I don't get why you're mad about it, though?" you mumbled, unable to find the right words. "We're not official yet…"

"I know that, Y/N," he snapped. "Trust me, I know we're not official, it's not that I'm mad about".

"Then?" you pushed it.

"Why did you have to go and remind Changbin hyung about it?"

Your eyebrows furrowed in genuine confusion. "I wasn't reminding him… if anything, he knows already".

"Yes, but it's just," he sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair out of frustration. "It's the entire situation, Y/N. Like, you went to our place and stayed there with him alone—"

"I went to see you and you weren't there" you corrected him.

"But you decided to stay there with him when I asked you to come here and even offered to go get you. And then you went out to eat with him, wouldn't reply to my texts, got here way later than expected, and then proceeded to tell him I'm not your boyfriend?" he recriminated, and it finally hit you how wrong it had looked in his eyes and how upsetting the whole thing was.

Your heart sunk once more, this time over knowing you had hurt the person you loved the most, even if you had not meant it.

"Hyunjin…"

"Can you try and understand how fucking shitty that felt?"

"I know, and I'm s—"

"Like, how would you feel if I told Yerim you're not my girlfriend right in front of you".

You stayed still, that name alone being enough to feel like a bucket of ice cold water had been poured over you.

"What does she have to do with this?"

"Nothing, it's just an example".

"Why is she the first example to come to mind, then?"

"She just is," he blurted out, growing more frustrated by the second.

"So you still think about her?"

"No! That's not—it's just the closest to your situationship with Changbin".

"There is no 'situationship' between me and Changbin" you made it clear. "We're friends".

"With benefits" he bitterly remarked.

"We were friends with benefits" you corrected. "That ended as soon as you kissed me. We're friends now. Just friends. And he's one of your best friends too, we would never deliberately do anything to hurt you. It's very different to you and Yerim".

"Right, it is very different" he agreed. "Because I never actually got to fuck her".

"And you regret not doing it?" both your words and the venom they held caught him off guard.

"What?"

"The way you said it made it sound like you would've liked to actually get to fuck her" you couldn't help the small crack in your voice and the annoying gloss in your eyes. "Because if that's the case then be my guest".

"No," Hyunjin shook his head accusingly. "No, you don't get to turn this around and get all defensive and jealous, this isn't about her".

"Well, you just made it about her, Hyunjin" you backed slightly away. "And I do get to be jealous of the girl you wanted to get with so bad that you didn't want her to see you with me".

"It was once, Y/N" he pointed out. "I pushed you away once because of her and then I chose you over her every single time".

You remained quiet, staring at the table as you were unable to look him in the eye right then and let him see the tears that you were hardly holding back.

"Baby," he called you, leaning in to try and make you look at him but with no success whatsoever. "I don't regret not getting with her. Anything I ever wanted with her was gone the moment I kissed you, too. I don't want her, I only want you…"

You said nothing.

"Y/N…" he softly called you once more.

You nodded in response, still not looking up at him.

Hyunjin sighed, feeling his chest tighten painfully at the beaten up sight of you. Suddenly, you felt distant, as if you had built an invisible wall in between the two of you and he could not get through it to save his life.

"It was just an example…"

"And you brought your point across. I would feel very shitty if you ever told Yerim I'm not your girlfriend, whether you said it right in front of me or not. Happy?"

"Baby, that's not—"

"I had already realised I was at fault and was about to apologise, though, because I really do hate that I put you through that with Changbin today and I am really, really sorry about it" your eyes went up to meet his, and although they showed how genuine you were being about being sorry, they also showed just how hurt you were, all because of him. "But oh well, thank you for the eye opening scenario, I guess".

"Y/N…"

"Everything okay?" Cherry's careful voice snapped both of you out of it, bringing your eyes up to be met not only with her worried expression, but Seungmin's right next to her.

You were fast to nod, sneakily wiping a tear that was about to fall, which did not go unnoticed by Hyunjin. Not sparing him another glance, you stood up to go to Cherry, snatching your hand away from his grasp the second he tried to hold it and make you stay.

"I'm getting a drink, come with me?" you asked Chaeryeong.

She nodded immediately, helping you out of the booth. "Of course, let's go".

On the other hand, Seungmin stood there, eyes scanning the heartbroken expression on his friend's face as he watched you leave towards the bar.

"Do I wanna know?" he asked.

Hyunjin shook his head no in frustration, leaning his head back against the seat and shutting his eyes close as he tried to contain the tears that had just started forming in them.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-♡

"Okay, you need to stop drinking" Seungmin stated, placing his hand on top of Hyunjin's glass before taking it away.

Hyunjin glared at him, but ultimately said nothing. Instead, he focused on you from afar.

It must've been a little over thirty minutes since you and Chaeryeong had been sitting down by the bar. He could only see your back from where he was sitting, but he felt at ease when he watched you throw your head back and let out what he could tell was a throaty laugh of yours — one of those genuine ones he loved hearing so much, even more when he was the reason for it.

At least your friend had succeeded at making you feel better after your previous argument.

He, on the other hand, had been sulking next to Seungmin for the past half an hour. Drinking his feelings away had seemed to be the way to go, and although Seungmin had initially decided to just let it slide and keep him company during his self-destructive ways, he could tell when enough was enough.

"Why don't you just go talk to her?" he questioned.

Hyunjin shrugged, leaning back against his seat. "I don't think she wants to hear me out right now".

Seungmin sighed. "What even happened for it to get that bad so fast?"

"I brought Yerim up".

Seungmin blinked in disbelief, feeling astounded to say the least. "What could possibly have happened for you to bring her of all people up".

"I'm an idiot," Hyunjin lamented, reaching for the drink Min had previously taken from him and downing it in one go. "That's what happened".

"And all of this because she got here later than she said she would?"

"No, it's not…" a heavy sigh escaped his lips. "It's much more than that. Mainly about her and Changbin hyung".

"They're just friends, Hyunjin".

"Now they are," he nodded, not being able to let go of their past together. "I just hated that they were alone for so long tonight, and that she felt the need to make it clear I'm not her boyfriend to him".

"So that's what this is about," Seungmin sighed, finally understanding the core of your argument. "You do realise she was just joking, right? Like, we all laughed because it was just that obvious".

"Was it?"

"Come on, man" he nudged him. "Even if you guys are not official, you two are exclusive. Do labels really matter when you both know you're together and serious about each other?"

Hyunjin stayed silent for a moment, trying to process his friend's words.

"We never established we're exclusive…"

"It's Y/N we're talking about" Seungmin reminded him. "She was faithful as hell to you even before you even made a move on her, why would it be any different now that you actually are head over heels for her? And you haven't even looked at someone else all this time, so…" he shrugged. "Some things are just unspoken, it doesn't mean they aren't there".

"I just… got insecure".

"More like jealous" Seungmin mumbled.

Hyunjin smiled weakly. "Insecure, genuinely. Sure, I tend to always get jealous, and I admit there was a bit of jealousy in there, too, but… I just got so fucking insecure when she corrected him, because yeah, she was faithful to me before and whatnot but Changbin hyung was the one exemption to it, and at the end of the day she's the one who gets to make the call and she can realise she'd rather be with someone else and choose Bin hyung over me any time".

"What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly that" he shrugged. "I'm in this kind of trial, trying to prove to her that I'm serious about my feelings for her, and I… if it were up to me we would already be official as hell, but she's the one who gets to decide that, and until then I'm just… hand tied".

"I don't think you are, though?" Seungmin's words got Hyunjin tilting his head in confusion. "I mean… you guys are an actual couple by now, you're pretty much only missing the labels, and I'm sure Y/N would say yes in a heartbeat if you asked her to be your girlfriend".

Hyunjin sighed, nervously biting his lip as he looked in your direction once again.

Maybe you would've before. After your argument, however, he was not so sure anymore.

He just kept fucking up over and over when it came to you, and he was scared all the progress the two of you had made so far, all the proof he had given you when it came to showing you he was serious about you this time, would come crashing down just because of this one slip up of his.

He should've kept quiet. Fuck, he should've shut his mouth the moment you had open yours to apologise. Everything would be so much different now if he learned to just not say the first thing that comes to mind without thinking about it first.

Then again, he had never been good at expressing himself, that you knew very well. Especially when it came to this kind of moments when he felt put on the spot.

He wished he could just turn back time and shut his fucking mouth.

Seeing Seungmin take the bottle of soju away from the corner of his eye, he gave up on both talking and drinking altogether, folding his arms over the table and resting his head on them, as he could feel all the alcohol he had drunk finally begin to hit.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-♡

Hyunjin didn't know how long it had been. Maybe twenty minutes, maybe ten. Maybe an hour, or even five minutes? All he knew was that he had passed out for a bit.

He didn't even know if his friends were around anymore or if Seungmin was still by his side, as he could not hear anyone near him. Well, anyone he knew, for the various unknown voices chatting —if not yelling— over the loud music around the bar were already invading his ears from all over.

Stretching out over the table after a good minute and almost knocking down a glass of soju, he finally sat back up. Much to his surprise, nearly all your friends were back at the table. Everyone but Cherry, as she kept chatting with you by the bar.

"Good morning there" Chan greeted with a teasing smile, having the rest join in in a second.

God, he knew he would never hear the end of it now.

"Good morning," he joined them, cynically. "How long was I out for?"

"Like fifteen minutes?" Han answered. "I don't know, I just got here like five minutes ago but I saw you sleeping from the dance floor".

"Yeah, fifteen minutes is a good guess," Minho laughed under his breath. He was probably the one enjoying this the most. "Right, Seungmin?"

All eyes on Min, they were met with his rather distraught expression staring intently at the bar.

"Seungmin?" Minho pushed it.

"Huh?" he snapped out of it.

"How long was Hwang out for? You were with him the entire time".

"Like two bottles" he answered incoherently as his eyes travelled back to the bar.

Chan snorted. "That's not what we were asking but holy fuck, Hyunjin".

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, later focusing them on Seungmin by his side. "You okay, man?"

"Yeah, I just…" his eyes squinted. "Who are…"

As if on cue, everyone followed his stare. And suddenly, Hyunjin knew exactly why his friend felt so distraught.

You and Cherry seemed to have company, and not precisely the kind of it he was okay with. Two guys around your age he had never seen before in his life, who were getting way too close to you, were most definitely not the kind of company he ever wanted for you. Especially not the one dude who was coming awfully near your ear to try and properly speak to you.

"Aw, just like the old days" Minho pretended to wipe a nostalgic tear, earning himself a snort from Han and a small shove from Jeongin next to him.

"Hell no" Seungmin mumbled under his breath, not letting another second go by before rushing towards Chaeryeong.

That was what Hyunjin wanted. To be able to just go up there, grab you and make sure that any other guy knew you were his. For every single person in the world to know you were with him.

Instead, he sat there — watching from afar how Seungmin reached Cherry's side and pulled her to him, glaring at the stranger that had tried to hit on her and telling him something Hyunjin could not quite decipher yet could perfectly guess what it was. Something along the lines of 'she's taken', of course.

Exactly what he wanted to be able to do with you.

He could've sworn Seungmin had told the guy who was trying to hit on you off, too, and although it was not quite enough to make him feel at ease, he did feel thankful to his friend.

Boyfriend or not, there was only so much he could take, however. So, when the very same guy who had invaded your personal space did not seem to care about Seungmin's words nor about your polite rejection —as he could tell by the way you had taken a step back from him and awkwardly motioned with your hands for him to take a hint—, Hyunjin found himself standing up from his spot and sprinting towards you.

"What's going on here?" he asked, towering over you the moment he reached your side.

"Um, n-nothing," your words sounded just as nervous as you looked, eyeing Hyunjin up before you focused on the stranger in front. "This is—"

"I really don't care who he is" Hyunjin shut you down, eyes glaring at the guy. "Back off".

"Now why would I do that?" the man —whose name you had learned to be Junghee a minute ago when he tried to buy you a drink—, replied rather smugly.

"Hyunjin…" you grabbed his hand, stopping him right as you felt him move forward.

"She's clearly not interested, leave her alone".

"Why don't you let her speak for herself then?"

Hyunjin turned around to look at you, silently demanding for an answer, yet simultaneously begging you with his eyes alone not to challenge him this time around — not to do anything that would hurt him any further.

He should know better by now, though. Because although you looked taken aback and anxious even, your eyes were on him. Only him. Not once during all those seconds the two of them had been expecting an answer from you had you merely even glanced anywhere but him.

And that was enough to let him know what you wanted, if not who you wanted.

"She's taken," Hyunjin spat after having turned back around. "Back off".

"That's what that other dude said, but—"

"Dude, I'm her boyfriend. Now go".

Raising both arms in defeat, not without first eyeing you up and down in a way that could easily have earned a punch from Hyunjin, he backed away for once and for all.

Hyunjin shook his head in both disbelief and annoyance, making sure the dickhead actually left before turning around to lock eyes with your cold ones.

"You're not my boyf—" you fell quiet the moment he cornered you against the bar and firmly placed his hand on your nape.

"To some random dude who's trying to make a move on you, yes I am".

You didn't have time to protest, for his mouth on yours had prevented you from doing so before you even had the chance.

Not like you wanted to protest to begin with, as his lips trapping your bottom one in them and sucking on it the way you loved it was all you had needed that night after your fight.

For him to reassure you once again that he was serious about you was everything you needed and more.

You grabbed him by the collar at the same time you wrapped one arm around his neck, feeling like you would die if you didn't have him the closest you could right then. Thankfully, Hyunjin seemed to get the memo, bringing his hands dangerously down to the lowest of your back so he could pull you to him and get rid of every possible centimeter that was left between your bodies.

Somehow backing you up harder against the bar and making sure your bodies wouldn't lose the closeness he had put in between them, he brought a hand up to cup your cheek, smiling into the kiss after you had massaged his tongue with yours.

"You don't get to let other guys hit on you just because of a stupid argument we had" he mumbled against your lips, getting a soft hum out of you when he pulled at your bottom one.

"I wasn't…" you whispered.

"No?" he pulled away for a second. "Is that why you were about to introduce me to him like it was nothing?"

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment. "I panicked, I didn't know what to say".

"Mhm… that better be it" he trapped your lip in his once more. "Because you're mine".

"I'm n—"

"Shhh…" he hushed you with a kiss, making you smile against his mouth. "You are".

"You're an idiot," you chuckled, endearingly looking up at him and gently cupping his cheek. "And you're drunk".

"M—not," he whined, more cutely to your ears than he had intended.

"You sure?" you teased, holding his face now with both hands as he rested his forehead on yours. "You do taste quite drunk to me".

He laughed under his breath, pressing a kiss to your cheek before he leaned down to rest his forehead on your shoulder — arms wrapping tightly around you as he tiredly nuzzled the crook of your neck.

"I may or may not have drunk my feelings away" he admitted.

"And the alcohol is finally starting to hit?"

He nodded, a quite heavy sigh of his tickling your neck.

"You wanna leave?" you asked, gently running a hand up and down his back.

Another silent nod was his answer. "Yeah, just wanna be with you right now…"

You smiled blissfully, planting a small kiss on his temple before your hand held his. "Okay then, let's go tell the rest we're dipping".

One look at your table was all it took for you to realise the two of you had been the main attraction back there. You didn't even notice the moment Chae and Seungmin had left your side and gone back to sit down with the rest, yet there they were, shamelessly gossipping together as they watched you walk towards the table.

The closer you got, the clearer you saw their teasing smiles — and the more you wanted to just turn around and get out of there with Hyunjin already.

"Glad to see you guys are on good terms again" Han teased as soon as you reached the table, motioning with his head towards your intertwined fingers.

"Didn't really appreciate the sight of you two exchanging saliva again, though" Minho pointed out.

"No one told you to look" Hyunjin shrugged.

Minho scoffed. "You were all up in our business, how could we not?"

"As if you weren't shoving your tongue down that one girl's throat minutes ago" you bit back, getting nothing but a proud smirk from him. "Anyway, we're leaving now, so…"

"Are you guys going to Hyunjin's dorm?" Jeongin asked.

"Mhm…" you nodded.

"You're staying there?" Cherry wondered.

You shook your head no. "I'm just d—"

"You're not?" Hyunjin asked in a pout.

You laughed under your breath. "I mean…"

"You guys can always figure that out later, but can I leave with you?" Innie drew your attention. "I'm tired and my dorm is on the way, we could split a taxi".

"That sounds great" you agreed. "Let's go then".

"If that's the case, I'm going with you guys, too" Changbin stood up as well, walking up to you right as Jeongin did.

"Why?" Hyunjin's eyebrows furrowed.

"Because you will probably pass out in the car and there is no way Y/N will be able to drag your drunk ass all the way up to our floor alone".

Hyunjin shrugged, pulling you closer to him by the waist. "Whatever, but Jeongin is sitting with us in the backseat".

Rolling his eyes in amusement, Changbin agreed to his friend's conditions. Maybe you had already been forgiven, but he was clearly not on the clear just yet for having kept you from him earlier that night.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-♡

The ride home had been easier than you had initially thought, mainly because Hyunjin passed out on your shoulder the second you got in the taxi, and just like that he was no longer able to glare at Changbin like he had done right before getting in the car, even though his wishes of having Jeongin join the two of you on the backseat had been complied with.

He had also been able to walk up the stairs just fine — a bit slow, but just fine. Although he did trip once when there was only one floor left to theirs, and if it weren't for Changbin, who was walking behind the two of you just to make sure, then probably the story would've been very different.

All in all, it had not been that bad. Hyunjin wasn't wasted, to be fair, but all the alcohol he had drunk during that one moment of sulkiness had hit the hardest in the span of his confrontation with the pushy guy at the bar and the ride home.

By the time the three of you reached his room, he didn't think twice before letting go of your grasp around his waist and slumping down face first on his bed — a muffled whine reaching your ears and earning a smile from you that had Changbin shaking his head in disbelief over how head over heels you were for his friend.

"Well, seems like my job here is done, so…"

Reluctantly taking your eyes away from your passed out beloved on his bed, you turned around to look at Bin. "Thanks for coming with us," you smiled. "The trip up the stairs could've been hell if you weren't here".

He chuckled, taking a step towards you. "Yeah, to be honest he wasn't that bad tonight. There have been times when Seungmin and I have feared for our lives trying to drag him up those stairs".

You rolled your eyes in amusement. "I've heard the same kind of stories but with you being the one that has to be dragged upstairs".

"Now who was the snitch" he playfully squared up.

"You guys literally all snitch on each other" you laughed.

Hyunjin unconsciously tossed in bed, making both your heads snap in his direction, and as if on cue, both your stares turned softer — the mood suddenly dropping.

"He was really upset tonight…" Changbin was the first one to bring the topic up.

"Yeah…" you mumbled, intently staring at Hyunjin sleeping. "Maybe we shouldn't…"

"Hang out alone anymore?" he finished with an obvious tone.

You nodded, slowly. "At least until things are more clear between us and he feels okay with it".

"You mean until you guys put a label to what very clearly already is an official relationship" he smirked.

"Stop…" you lowered your head to try and hide the shy smile that had just curved up your lips. "Things are still a bit messy between us… and I hated knowing that I hurt him today and I would hate to hurt him again" a small sigh abandoned your mouth as you looked up to him. "I really love him, Binnie".

"I know you do," he smiled, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Let's just hang out while the others are around from now on".

"Yeah, let's do that" you agreed with a smile.

"Does this count as hanging out alone when Hyunjin is passed out in front of us?"

You couldn't help a throaty laugh from escaping your mouth, finding yourself having to cover it with one hand not to risk waking Hyunjin up, which seemed to be highly unlikely yet never impossible.

"You're staying the night?" he changed the topic, still not being able to erase the smile that had formed on his face over your laughter.

You shook your head no. "I'm just staying with him for a bit".

He snorted. "That's just calling to fall asleep on the floor next to him".

"I just want to make sure he stays sleeping on his side in case he throws up".

"Ew, I knew you were in love as hell but not to the point of being willing to clean his puke up".

"Shut up," you squinted your eyes at him, causing him to hold both hands up as he backed towards the door.

"Okay, I'll leave you to it now. I believe his pyjamas are in the second drawer," he motioned. "Although I guess he could sleep in his underwear alone, I don't know".

"What?"

"You're changing him, aren't you?" Changbin raised a questioning eyebrow.

"No, you change him".

He scoffed. "You're the one dating him, that's your problem now".

"But you're a boy..."

"What are we, twelve?" he laughed. "Don't act like you've never seen him naked before".

"Okay first, you don't know that" you pointed an accusing finger at him. "And second, he's drunk".

"So?"

"I don't want to overstep…"

"Trust me, he won't be mad that you changed him to sleep" he smirked.

"Changbinnnn," you begged in a whine.

"Ugh, okay" he gave in, realising there was no changing your mind. "Just go wait outside. And when he gets mad at me for changing his clothes, I'm throwing you under the bus".

"I'll take the risk" you laughed.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-♡

Pulling down the white oversized t-shirt of Hyunjin's that Changbin had given you after having successfully convinced you to spend the night before he could leave to his room for once and for all, you couldn't help but feel all giddy. You hadn't worn them many times, maybe one or two, but still, you could never grow used to wearing Hyunjin's clothes. And a part of you couldn't help but not feel like ever giving it back.

The way it had his particular scent you loved so much all over, the way it was long enough to cover just a little under your thighs, the way it felt almost like being in his arms, the way it was his.

Snapping out of it when you heard a heavy sigh coming from the bed, you were met with the cutest sight of Hyunjin tucked into it. Changbin had gone through the trouble, since he knew for a fact you would have a hard time trying to tuck him in if not.

The sheets were pulled up to his chin, in a way you could only see his uncovered face as he laid on his back and how the covers moved slowly up and down with each breath he took.

His eyes remained closed and his breathing calm. You couldn't help but feel bad for the hangover you knew he was waking up with the next morning, although that itself wasn't enough to erase the smile from off your face as you stared at him.

It was ridiculous how soft you were for him, not to say weak. You were so mad earlier that night, so hurt that he had brought up the one girl you were insecure about when it came to his past, that you thought the two of you would go your different ways that night and take a couple of days to make up.

But then there he was, telling a random guy who was trying to hit on you to back off and calling himself your boyfriend, kissing you like you were the only people in the bar, and that was all it took for you to feel at ease again — for you to know you would be alright regardless of the pending conversation you still needed to have.

Physically shaking your head as you were unable to mentally shake off his voice repeating the word 'boyfriend' over and over, causing your heart to soar with every memory of it, you went up to his drawer by the bed.

You took out the face wipes you knew he kept in there and went to the mirror next to it so you could take off your makeup. This wasn't your ideal night routine, but it would have to do for tonight.

"Mm…" Hyunjin's tired voice had your head snapping in his direction, only to be met with his visibly heavy eyes staring at you. "Sexy".

You snorted, feeling your face burn yet refusing to show how flustered you were over his sudden comment. Instead, you shook your head in amusement and threw the wipe into the small trash bin under his desk before you took a clean one out of the package.

"You're awake" you pointed out the obvious, sitting down by the edge of the bed.

"Yeah…" he sighed, eyes unconsciously closing for a moment there. "You looked too good for me not to wake up".

"That makes absolutely no sense" you laughed, leaning in to pull the covers slightly down to his chest.

"Yes, it does" he fought back, grimacing when the cold wipe came in contact with his face yet not protesting as you gently cleaned him up. "You should wear my clothes more often".

"I will take you up on that offer" you smiled, pressing a brief kiss to his forehead before going to throw the used wipe in the bin, too. "I'm borrowing a pair of sweatpants to sleep in".

"Noo, come here," he protested, stretching his arms out of the covers for you to go over there. "I meant you should wear my t-shirts with nothing else more often".

"Oh? You like the sight, Hwang Hyunjin?"

"You know I do" his eyes squinted accusingly.

"And what if I wanna go to the bathroom or the kitchen?" you taunted, folding your arms over your chest.

"If the guys are here then you put a pair of sweatpants on before leaving my room" his dead serious semblance got you grinning. "If we're alone, then it doesn't matter".

"Gatekeeping, I see" you came closer to the bed, enough for him to reach his hand out and grab your wrist.

"Of course," he proudly stated, pulling you down onto the bed with him — his hand resting against your back to pull you closer, later travelling down to the back of your thigh and guiding it over his waistline. "Only I get to see your pretty thighs like this".

This time, you could not hide the prominent heat in your cheeks, having to look down for a second to try and collect yourself, only to be met with his fingers holding your chin up and his lips pressing softly on yours.

Although it had begun tenderly, almost innocently, it was only a matter of seconds before Hyunjin's tongue was opening its way into your mouth, sending shivers down your spine as your hand went to his nape and your fingers were entangled in his brown locks.

It wasn't until his fingertips traced their way up from your thigh to your hip and his hand dug inside the t-shirt of his you were wearing, reaching dangerously close to the curve of your breasts, that you pulled away.

"So you're a horny drunk…" you smirked, almost as if having found his weakness. "Should've seen it coming".

"I always wanna touch you" he pouted.

"Something tells me it's different this time" you let out a breathy laugh, holding his wrist and gently removing it from underneath your top. "So I'm stopping you before we get too caught up".

"But I need you…" he whined, burying his face in your chest.

"You're literally half asleep, what would you be able to do anyway?"

"Don't underestimate me, baby girl".

You felt him smile against your chest in response to the small laugh that had just escaped your throat at his threatening words.

Considering your little banter to be done with after his last statement, Hyunjin's arms snaked around your waist and pulled you somewhat closer to him — as close as the covers in between the two of you allowed him to.

"You okay?" you whispered when you felt him take a heavy breath, tenderly running your fingers through his hair.

"Everything's spinning" he managed to let out as he exhaled.

You chuckled, pressing your lips down on the crown of his head. "That's what happens when you down two bottles of soju in half an hour".

He pouted. "I was… feeling very shitty…"

Your heart hurt at his words, and you were met with his heavy-looking chocolate eyes after he had pulled slightly away from your chest.

Silence filled the room for a minute, words somehow not being needed as you quietly looked at each other.

Wetting his lips, he reached a hand up to cup your cheek, drawing small circles on it with his thumb and smiling when your hand reached up to do the same with his wrist.

"I'm sorry about what I said," he apologised. "I shouldn't have brought Y—"

"I really don't wanna talk about her anymore" you softly cut him off.

He nodded, tenderly grabbing your hand in his and caressing the back of it with his thumb. "I'm really sorry, baby… I never wanted to hurt you".

"Hey, it's okay" you hushed him. "I never wanted to hurt you either. I'm sorry too, Jinnie".

He smiled, tiredly yet ever so blissfully — eyes closing once again right as he brought your hand up to his mouth and pressed a sweet kiss to it.

"I only want you. All to myself. No one else".

"You don't want me with anyone else or you don't want anyone else but me?" you couldn't help but tease.

"Both," his confident tone got a giggle out of you. "But you're the one who gets to decide whether you want to be with me for real now and I just keep fucking up an—"

"Baby…" you called him softly as ever, lovingly running your thumb over his bottom lip and managing to make him open his eyes once more. "You haven't even fucked up".

"I just did tonight, though…"

"Not in a way that will stop me from wanting to be with you" you reassured him with a smile.

"You promise?" he whispered.

You nodded, answering his question by briefly pressing your lips against his. "Remember what I told you the morning after we got together?"

"You told me many things that morning" he smirked, causing you to roll your eyes in amusement.

"About not feeling like you have to watch your every move around me" you reminded him. "I said that as long as y—"

"I don't go to someone else or start feeling trapped again we would be alright…" he completed for you.

"And you haven't done any of those, have you?"

"No, of course not" he sounded almost offended by that question. "If anything you might start feeling trapped with how clingy I got".

A throaty laugh escaped your mouth at that, snuggling closer to him and feeling your heart melt when his hand was naturally placed on the curve of your waist.

Fuck, you loved him.

"What are you saying, I love clingy" you admitted. "And since you haven't done any of those two things I don't really consider that you've fucked up… couples argue here and there, it's okay".

"Are you saying we're a couple now?" he smiled.

You bit your bottom lip, looking away from his eyes as you were at a loss of words and felt your face burn under his stare.

"Go to sleep, Jinnie".

"You haven't answered my question".

"You're drunk" you pointed out. "We'll talk about this some other time".

Hyunjin pouted, but ultimately decided to let it go. "You're staying the night?"

You nodded. "How else am I supposed to take care of your drunken ass tonight?"

"That is very girlfriend of you" he smirked.

You couldn't help the giggle that had just ran past your lips, just like you couldn't help the backflip your heart had just done. "You're going to regret this so much in the morning".

"I won't" he stood his ground.

"We'll see about that tomorrow" you chuckled. "Now go to sleep".

"At least get in here with me," he tugged at the covers for you to get inside. "You're practically naked, don't want my baby to catch a cold".

"Shut up," you laughed under your breath, embarrassed, yet complied with his wishes.

Helping him pull the sheets up, you got inside them with him, who wasted no time to tuck you in with him and tightly engulf you in his arms.

You sighed contentedly when your face rested on his chest, throwing a leg over his waist.

"Better?" he asked.

"Mhm…" your body snuggled closer to him. "This was very boyfriend of you" you couldn't help but tease.

Feeling him smile against the crown of your head, you were greatly surprised by his long fingers pushing your chin up to be met with his plump lips.

"That's what you should've told that one idiot that was hitting on you".

"And who says I didn't?"

He pulled back from your mouth, staring at you with wide eyes as he tried to process the words that had just come out of it. "Y-You did?"

You nodded, quite amusedly.

"You told him I was your boyfriend?"

"Well, I told him I had a boyfriend. He didn't know who you were, so…" you laughed at his cute expression right then.

"And even then he still wouldn't back off?" he scoffed. "God, I should've punched him".

An amused giggle escaped your mouth. "It's fine, I was actually about to just walk away when you got there" you confessed, tenderly running your thumb up and down the corner of his mouth. "You really underestimate how bad I don't want to be hit on by anyone but you, Hwang Hyunjin".

The smile that had just curved up his lips right then could easily be one of your favourites he'd ever given you. There was something about his crescent moon eyes and his dimples that had your heart soaring.

You didn't get to stare at it for long, though, for those same lips that were holding the most beautiful smile you had ever seen were soon to be pressed on yours, somehow managing to show you everything he felt for you yet did not have the right words to express.

Feeling his hot breath tickle your wet lips after the lack of oxygen had broken you apart, you found yourself smiling against his mouth, pecking it ever so lightly and having him do the same the next second.

"Be my girlfriend?" he whispered against your mouth.

Your eyes opened wide, and you were sure they looked elated as ever — for you were elated as ever.

You could scream. You could cry. You could laugh. Everything at once as you were hit by the one question you had at some point believed Hyunjin would never let himself ask you.

You could do so many things right then as you stared into his tired yet genuine eyes, and your heart screamed for you to answer with the 'yes' that had gotten stuck at the back of your throat the second his question reached your ears.

At last, though, you let the rational part of you win for once.

Leaning in to steal a soft, lingering kiss from his cloudlike lips, you looked up at him with a small smile. "Ask me again when you're sober".

Letting out a breathy, defeated laugh, he rested his forehead on yours as he closed his eyes. "Will you say yes?"

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his nose. "Go to sleep, baby".

Although not entirely satisfied with your answer, he gave it up for once and for all, pulling you back to his chest as he closed his eyes and found comfort in the way your limbs were loosely wrapped around him. You were lucky the alcohol kept dragging him into a slumber, otherwise you would not have heard the end of it until you gave him a proper answer.

In less than a minute, he was fast asleep all over again.

You, on the other hand, were left wide awake while almost inaudible snores abandoned his lips every few seconds — unable to conceal your sleep as everything that happened that night kept replaying in your mind over and over. More precisely, images of your last conversation right before he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

With your heart pumping hard against your chest to the point you were scared it would wake him up, you could only wish he would not change his mind once he woke up. That if he even remembered everything that had left his mouth that night.

Wide awake, you were left thinking of every possible outcome following this night.

Whatever happened, though, drunk words were sober thoughts, and although conflicted over the circumstances they had been spoken on, you could not help the overwhelming happiness taking over your mind and body now that you knew Hwang Hyunjin wanted to make things official with you.

tag list: @blaaiissee @hyuneytoast @staysuki @tardiscompanion @princehyun-jin @hyuka-luvbot @halesandy @nattisbored @qnjayn @hibuki-chan @purenjuniverse @seungly @suhnnyskiess @midsoulz @kwanisms @esme-ordaz @perriwiinkle @firnze @soobin-chois @moon-320 @multifandomizer @elviransworld @valewoos @ktttwwn @hazzaloveschopsuey @hannahdinse8 @zoe8stay @leechanniee @phenomenalgirl9 @aeminju @threevracha @laryisthinking @wolfietara @iam2out @kingggjaay @cosmic-railwayxo @straykidsficsrecsbaby @marsophilia @choibeomgogi @ddaengpotate @oceanyocean @rinsdesires @jhslmhbtsskz @lixlovesworld @keenlampponyclam @yerimselgi @mal-lunar-28 @littlestarhyun @mingiholic @euphroseia

#skz #stray kids #hwang hyunjin #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #hyunjin imagines #skz fake texts #stray kids fake texts #hyunjin fake texts

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pinkkittysaw · 7 months

Text

pairing: mike schmidt x gn! reader

summary: you save the holiday with some chinese food

word count: 1,864

content: fluff, established relationship, reader is celebrating american thanksgiving, no use of y/n or gender specific pronouns. pure self indulgence due to the stress that the holidays give me

a/n: based off an hc i had where mike can’t roast a turkey to save his life. this was written, edited and posted all in the same day so PLEASE be kind 😔 i watched the fnaf movie twice in three days i think i have a problem. anyway ty josh hutcherson for ending my writing slump DJDJDJJD 🙏🏻🙏🏻

dividers by @/firefly-graphics

"Shit," Mike hissed through his teeth, hastily pulling out the very well-done turkey from the oven and placing it aside on the counter as a bloom of gray smoke erupted and filled the kitchen air.

A muffled "swear" is heard from the living room, a faint pout forming on the young girl's lips. Her bouncy brunette curls are tossed from side to side as she peels her eyes away from the Thanksgiving parade on TV to peer over her shoulder and chastise her older brother for his "transgressions".

"Sorry," he grumbles, pulling out a dollar and sliding it into the lid of the makeshift swear jar Abby had made. The money will end up back in his wallet at the end of the week anyway, so he offers no pushback against the girl.

More smoking from the oven ensues, flooding the kitchen and living room in an ashen veil. It's only a few seconds later that the grating beep beep beep of the fire alarm begins to go off, the noise ringing all throughout their home.

"Too loud!" Abby yells, covering her ears with both hands as she bounds toward her bedroom to try and escape the noise.

When you roll up to Mike's house, pushing through his front door with both hands occupied by the plastic bags of processed carbs and fat you bought for the night, you're greeted to him bouncing up and down on a dining room chair, one of his ears tucked into his shoulder as an attempt to spare his eardrums from the blaring sound as he wildly reaches for the smoke alarm stuck to the ceiling.

You're quick to place the bags down on the kitchen table, doing your best to avoid inhaling too much of the smoke. With the oven already turned off, you rush over to the windows, opening them up, and grabbing a discarded shirt that was left on the couch to air out the two rooms as best as you can.

You smile up at him, and after a few more attempts, he successfully snatches the alarm from its place on the ceiling, unceremoniously pulling out the batteries as he hops down from his elevated position, then tosses both the alarm and its components onto the counter, alongside his multiple failed side dishes.

"Hey," he finally greets and exhales, letting go of the breath he was holding while he wipes his brow, small droplets of perspiration accumulating on his forehead from the impromptu workout session.

It was clear that he was having quite the day. With Abby having the better part of the week off from school and Mike wanting to prepare all of Thanksgiving dinner himself, to say he was a little stressed would be an understatement.

"Hey," you respond back, grinning as he runs his fingers through the dark curls that sit atop his head, similar to those of his younger sister.

You peer over his shoulder at the mess of dishes and other burned food before making eye contact with him once again, nudging your head toward the bags still on the table.

"Got the Chinese food."

A look of relief washes through his face as he makes his way over toward you, cupping both cheeks in his palms and pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead.

"You're a lifesaver," he mumbles into your hairline.

A giggle worms its way from between your lips when you state, "Always am."

It's not like Mike was a bad cook, per se. You've witnessed him cooking for Abby on multiple occasions, even sometimes for yourself as an apology on nights he came home later than expected, but to say he was a good cook was also a bit of a stretch, at least when it comes to meals made solely from scratch.

His specialties were breakfast foods and simple meals, ones that don't require more than five steps, like tomato soup, mac n cheese, frozen pizza, grilled cheese, and so on and so forth, with his best dish being spaghetti and meatballs. Though you were determined to sit him down and go through the step-by-step recipe for your homemade meat sauce so that he wouldn't have to keep buying the store-bought crap.

Regardless, when discussions of Thanksgiving plans arose, Mike suggested getting Chinese as an absolute last resort. So you were prepared when you eventually received the phone call from him earlier on that day "to resort to Plan B" as his "cooking endeavors kept going from bad to worse."

You could tell he was anxious about the whole thing. It was your first Thanksgiving together as a couple after having been Abby's sitter for a few years. He wanted it to be perfect. He and his sister never had much time or drive to celebrate the holiday as "families should", (his words), due to his work and money situation. It just didn't make sense for him to prepare a huge feast for the two of them and put more than a minimal amount of effort into cooking when most of the food would end up in the fridge for weeks on end. Uneaten due to texture changes after the food had been cooled, refrigerated, and then eventually warmed up again.

Ever since, their tradition has been Chinese food, something they both enjoyed and could get delivered if need be.

You reassured Mike over the phone earlier that morning, while twirling the spiral cord of your landline around your finger, that it didn't matter what type of food you ate, whether it was roasted turkey and mashed potatoes or crab rangoons and fried rice, it was about being together.

Abby peeked out of her room a few minutes later as you and Mike set the table, laying out three paper plates and setting the various dishes in the middle of them. The young girl is quick to crash into you, pulling you into a bruising hug—a bruising hug that a ten-year-old girl can manage.

"Hey Rugrat," you chuckle, ruffling her hair. "Got your favorite."

"Really?" she beams, bouncing on her heels slightly as she peers up at you with big eyes.

You kneel down til she's at eye level with you and whisper in her ear. "Don't tell your brother, but I got an extra order of crab rangoons just for you." She tries to stifle a giggle at the shared secret between you two, barely able to contain her excitement as you rise to your full height once more, sending her off with a wink and a tap on the back to wash up before dinner, taking note of the extravagance of her cute little outfit as she bounces down the hall to the bathroom. She was always the little fashionista, as you frequently compliment her on her choice of color blocking, but it's only when setting up the table for dinner that you notice that both Abby and Mike are dressed up as well.

He's sporting one of his "nicer" sweaters. It's a deep maroon color, one that's most likely been stashed away and hidden in the back of his closet for occasions such as this. The sweater is coupled with a pair of his least faded jeans.

Despite the earlier frazzles, Mike looks good, all things considered. He appears significantly less tired; his umber eyes are bright and attentive, the dark circles are subdued. Even his hair was styled, his curls set in a distinct pattern rather than ruffled and combed through with his fingers five minutes before walking out the door to go to work. It was cute how much effort he was putting in to make this holiday special for the three of you. Something that you wouldn't let go unnoticed.

While Abby is taking her time washing her hands, you round the table to where Mike stands, cup his cheeks, and pull him in for a sickly sweet kiss. His lips are chapped, but only slightly, due to your insistent scolding of him for never using enough lip balm.

His eyes are slightly glazed over when you pull away.

"You look handsome," you tease, giving a light pinch to his cheek as he continues to gaze upon you with a lovesick look.

"Don't you start," he smirks, removing your hand from his face and placing it back by your side.

"What?" You feign innocence, shrugging your shoulders while raising your palms in defense.

"I can't compliment my own boyfriend now?"

"You know what you're doing," he chuckles, shaking his head from side to side as he pulls down three cups from the kitchen cabinet, filling each with the soda you bought alongside the food.

You're about to retort when Abby makes an appearance in the dining area once more, eagerly sitting down at the table in anticipation while Mike finishes with the drinks.

You sit down beside her and admire the cute Thanksgiving decorations that are plastered all over the fridge. Various multi-colored feathered turkeys, along with a multitude of autumn plants and vegetables, are hung amongst her other drawings with random letter magnets.

You had become a big feature in her regular artwork alongside her brother. The pictures often depict the three of you together, with her in the middle and you n Mike on either side of her. You always took the chance to marvel at her artwork whenever you could, always commenting to Mike that he's got a talented little artist on his hands whenever she was within earshot.

You're amazed at how quickly the three of you became a little family, a welcomed addition to the two of them despite your worries early on about how Abby would react to you having a different role in her and her brother's lives outside of being her sitter.

Although it wasn't verbalized as articulately as she would've liked, she was glad that her brother had someone to look out for and care about him as he did for her. It also helped that you were way more fun than he was.

You're pulled out of your thoughts when Mike plops down in his seat across from the two of you.

"Still can't believe you don't like egg rolls," he mutters, motioning in the direction of his sister before taking a huge bite of the eggroll in his hand, leaving a satisfying crunch in his wake as his teeth sink into the fried food.

"And I can't believe you have such bad taste," she sticks her tongue out at him playfully as he scoffs and rolls his eyes.

"She's still young, Mikey. Her palette still has time to develop."

"Mikey?" Abby quips, quirking a brow toward her brother.

"Eat your food or you get no dessert." His skin turns a slight tinge of pink as the blush crawls up his neck and blooms over his face, clearly embarrassed at the discovery of his petname.

Abby gives you a knowing look, and the rest of dinner is spent trying to muffle your giggles and snickers. Despite the laughter being at his expense, Mike wouldn't have it any other way. The mess in the kitchen would be cleaned up later; right now, he just wants to cherish the moment.

#mike schimdt x reader #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt x gn!reader #five night’s at freddy’s x reader #five night’s at freddy’s imagine #fnaf x reader #fnaf imagine #x reader fluff #fluff #✰ミ angel writes

150 notes · View notes

alwaysonthemend · 9 months

Text

Author’s Note: Hello my horny friends. I hope this fic finds you well. Have some vulgar Jacob smut. This is self-indulgent, as it usually is. Jake makes me question my sanity… this fic is merely a glimpse for you all into my madness. This is a little on the shorter side but when it's literally just porn and no plot that's what happens. Also VERY minimally edited so apologies in advance.

Once again, this fic wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for @jakeyt I hope you know that I love you so much and I’m so glad I have you in my life. Your constant encouragement means the world.

Content Warnings: Fem!reader, oral (f rec) p in v sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, cussing, dirty talk, Jake being cocky. 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

Word Count: 2927

----------------

The thing is, it never really gets easier – the whole long distance thing that is. You get better at it, sure. But it never actually becomes easier to deal with. If anything, you only miss him more when he’s gone than you used to. Jake has this… aura about him that draws you into him – pulling you into his orbit whether you want to be or not. Though he’s not known to his fans as the loud one (that title remains firmly on Josh), Jake’s personality when he’s with you is anything but subdued. He’s sweet like no other man you’ve ever met, and can make you laugh harder than anyone else, and the comfort that he radiates is unparalleled. And so his absence is only made all the more painful the longer you’ve been with him.

This time especially, going on almost two months without getting to see him, you’re physically aching to be near him again. Daily texts and FaceTimes only satisfy you so much, and at this point you’re desperate. He’s coming home tonight and your body is practically vibrating with your excitement as you tidy up things around the house in order to pass the time.

He’d said he’d be home around 7pm and god have these past few hours been the longest of your entire life. You’ve showered and shaved – making sure to use the body wash that Jake loves the smell of; and you’ve slipped into the little lingerie set that always drives him nuts, coupled with nothing but one of his old t-shirts. The two of you had phone sex a few times throughout his absence, but the action only ever leaves the both of you aching and missing the other even more. Jake has always been a tactile individual, loving the feeling of you and the feeling of the two of you together. So you know that as soon as he gets home he’s going to be all over you. That at least, is one positive of his long absences. Fuck is the welcome home sex incredible.

Taking a seat on the sofa, you glance up at the clock for what feels like the millionth time.

7:07pm

You clench your thighs in anticipation as you watch the front door. You’re almost embarrassed by the way you're literally sitting here waiting like a dog for its owner to come home. But it really has been so long so you figure you’ve earned the right to be this desperate.

You glance up again.

7:16

Furrowing your brow, you check your phone to see if he’s texted you. Nothing.

Sighing, you click your phone off and place it back down on the table.

Another five minutes.

You check your phone again. Then the clock. Then your phone again. You fix your hair. Check the clock again.

And just when it hits 7:45 and you’re about to pick up your phone to call him, the front door practically slams open and in steps Jake – looking frazzled and annoyed but no less handsome than he had the last time you saw him.

“Fuck, I hate airports.” His voice is the same as you remember it too – deep and soft as it envelopes you like a warm hug.

Rising from your seat quickly, you stride over to where he’s standing, surveying his appearance for a moment. His hair is slightly longer, the ends resting just below his shoulders. He’s shaved since the last time you FaceTimed, but the barely there dusting of hair that adorns his top lip lets you know that maybe he’s thinking of growing it out again.

You both stand there for a second, eyeing the other in a strange dance of anticipation. Finally, you reach out and grip his wrist, tugging him in close to you. Almost as if the action broke the seal, suddenly he’s on you, shoving you backwards until your back slams into the wall.

“Jake.” You whine, but he silences you by sealing his lips over yours, immediately plunging his tongue into your waiting mouth. It’s all teeth and tongues and there’s nothing but desperation behind it as he practically devours you. The both of you moan as his bulge presses against you.

“Missed you so much, angel.” He breathes out between kisses, and all you can do is whimper in response as his plush lips trail down to your throat, nipping and biting as he goes.

You bring your hands up to tangle in his hair, tugging on it hard to get a reaction from him. Never one to disappoint, a groan rumbles through his chest at the sting.

His strong hands grip your hips and lift, effortlessly picking you up and you wrap your legs around his waist to steady yourself. His mouth doesn’t leave your skin once as he walks the two of you over to the sofa before he unceremoniously deposits you onto it.

Still trapped between your thighs, Jake sinks to the floor onto his knees.

“Missed you too. So much.” You tell him, gripping his shoulders and digging your fingers into the hard muscle that lies hidden beneath his button down shirt.

He pulls away from you for a moment and his eyes look practically black as he stares at you. His chest is heaving and his lips are already swollen and slick with spit. You’re sure that you probably look even worse off than he does as your desperation for him grows with each passing second.

“I’ve been thinking about this for days.” He admits, splaying his palms out on your thighs and spreading your knees apart. His eyes trail downwards and you watch with rapt attention as they widen slightly as he sees the deep green lace of your panties. A wolfish grin spreads across his lips. “These are my favorite.”

“I know.” Your voice comes out quiet, almost a whisper. “Put them on just for you.”

“You spoil me.” His finger trails across your clothed center, just barely pressing into your clit through the fabric.

You whine and spread your legs wider, begging him to finally touch you where you need him.

“And as gorgeous as you look in these…” He says, hooking his fingers in the elastic and tugging. “You look even better without them.”

He slides the lacey fabric down your legs, allowing you to kick them off onto the floor. His eyes rake across you, greedily taking in the sight of your drenched pussy for the first time in weeks.

“Fuck.” He whispers, licking his lips and running a calloused finger through your folds. “Even prettier than I remember.”

Sweeping his eyes up to yours, Jake grips your thighs again tightly before diving into you, sucking on your clit and drawing a loud moan from you.

“Jake!” Your eyes slam shut at the immediate relief of his mouth on you.

He’s eating you out like it’s his job, plunging his tongue into you roughly as his nose presses into your swollen bundle of nerves. Your moans and whines are interrupted by his own sounds – tiny little groans and grunts as he diligently brings you closer and closer to the edge of climax.

Embarrassingly fast, that coil in your belly begins to tighten and you reach down to tug on his hair in warning. Instead of drawing away, Jake only renews his efforts and the coil snaps as your orgasm tears through you. He laps up your release without pause, moaning at the taste of you before pulling away.

“That was fast.” He grins, a smug smirk overtaking him.

“Fuck off. It’s been too long.” You tell him, trying to catch your breath.

“Or I’m just that fucking good.”

You shake your head at him, fighting a grin.

“Mmm. Missed you being a cocky little shit.” You tell him, sarcasm clear in your tone.

“Did you now?” He hedges, narrowing his eyes at you playfully.

“Oh yeah. I really miss- Oh!”

Without warning, Jake plunges a finger into you, immediately finding that spot inside you that drives you fucking wild.

“What was that?” He asks, adding another finger.

You can’t answer, too focused on the heavenly feeling of his fingers that you missed so much.

“I’ll tell you what I missed.” He says, fingers picking up their pace as he fucks you with them. “I missed this pretty pussy. And I missed those lovely sounds that you make when I hit that special little spot inside of you.” He punctuates his sentences by curling his fingers upwards and brushing your g-spot, drawing a loud cry from you. “Like that one. Fuck, I missed that sound.”

“Jesus Christ.” You moan, overcome with pleasure as he presses his thumb into your clit, rubbing tight circles over you.

This is so much better than all those nights on the phone with him – nights where you lay there wishing that it was his fingers pleasuring you and not your own. But now he’s finally here, and the combination of having him after so long coupled with his stupidly talented fingers has your second orgasm approaching just as quickly as the first.

“Come on, angel.” He encourages, eyes glued to where his fingers fuck in and out of you. “Give it to me.”

The band snaps for the second time, and this time the feeling is white hot and overwhelming, leaving you with shaky legs and a brain completely absent of any conscious thought.

“Jacob!” You whine, body left reeling as he pulls his fingers from you. “I need your cock. Please. Fuck, I need it.” You beg, reaching out to him to pull him in closer.

“I know. I know, angel.” He mutters, extracting himself from your grip and standing up. He quickly unbuttons his shirt and tosses it to the ground before turning away from you. You furrow your brows for a moment as you watch him start to leave before realization washes over you.

Condom your brain finally supplies. He’s going to get a condom.

As if acting on its own accord, your hand darts out to wrap around his wrist, stopping him. He turns back to you, confusion clouding his eyes as he takes in your expression.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you shake your head at him.

“No condom.”

“But-” he starts, turning back around to face you fully. “You’re not on birth control.”

“I know.” You say as you stare into his eyes, silently begging for him to catch on to what you mean.

He does, and his mouth parts in surprise as your meaning finally hits him.

“Y/n.” He hedges, taking a step back towards you. “You-” he stops himself, unsure and afraid of reading the situation wrong.

“I miss you so much when you’re gone, Jake.” You admit, pulling him even closer to you. “Want something of yours to keep with me when you leave.”

Jake groans, dropping his hand downwards to palm his hard cock.

“Fuck, are you sure?” He sounds fucking wrecked – voice broken in a way you haven’t heard it before.

“Very.” You assure him, biting your lip as you glance up at him. “I’ve been thinking about it since you left. I want it so bad, Jake.”

“I need to hear you say it, Y/n.” His eyes are dark as he watches you, chest heaving as the weight of your words seem to finally sink in.

“Jake,” you start, willing him to see just how serious you are. “I want you to fill me up. Put a baby in me. Please, Jake.”

He moans loudly and he looks almost pained as you speak. Without hesitation, he practically rips the button of his jeans open before shoving them downwards, yanking his boxers down with them. His cock springs free, slapping his stomach and weeping with precum. You’ve never seen him so hard before – the velvety skin shiny and red. You spread your legs and scoot backwards, pressing your back into the arm of the sofa. He all but collapses onto the sofa between your legs and a fresh wave of slick gushes from you as you see the slight tremble of his shoulders. He’s fucking shaking.

“Say it again.” He demands, grabbing his length and sliding his tip through your folds, gathering your wetness and spreading it over himself.

“Put a baby in me, Jake. Fill me up. I want it so bad.”

“Fuck.” He whines – an honest to god whine, before he plunges into you.

You let out a loud wail as he finally enters you, stretching you deliciously.

“I missed your cock so much!” You cut yourself off with another moan. You reach upwards and hook your hands behind his shoulders to pull him into you, capturing his lips with yours as he pounds into you.

“Fuck, baby.” His voice is deeper than it ever has been before and it cracks slightly on the last word. “You wanna know what I think about when I’m up there on stage?”

You nod, dropping your head backwards and wrapping your legs around him to pull him in deeper.

“God.” He starts, moaning loudly before continuing on breathlessly. “I think about you. Every fucking time.” He grabs your ankle and tosses it up over his shoulder, making his cock sink even deeper into you. “I imagine you like this. Beneath me. I get so worked up just thinking about it. Like I could just fucking explode right up there on stage."

“Jake.” You whine, but there’s nothing to follow it up with. It’s like you’re in a fog, aware of nothing beyond the man on top of you and the delicious feeling of his cock pounding into you so fucking deep.

“It gets me so hard, angel. So hard it hurts. All those people screaming my name but it’s you that I’m thinking about.”

"Is that why you hump your poor guitar?" You manage to stutter out breathlessly.

Jake chuckles and nods his head.

"Can't fucking help it "

You lean upwards and kiss him again, biting his bottom lip between your teeth. Your brain can’t seem to create words anymore and all coherent thought has long since flown out the window.

Jake groans into the kiss before dropping his chin to press his forehead into yours. His hips snap into you at a bruising pace and you know that you’ll be sore tomorrow.

“M’gonna cum, Jake." You warn through clenched teeth. "Fuck I’m cumming!” Your climax is sharp – slicing through you with reckless abandon as Jake keeps fucking you through it. Your entire body trembles and the wet sound of Jake’s length slamming in and out of you is fucking obscene.

Roughly, Jake grabs your waist and turns you over and your hands scramble to try and catch yourself from face planting into the arm of the sofa. Grabbing your hips in both hands, Jake pulls you back into him to meet each thrust. The room is filled with nothing but the sound of his skin hitting yours and the moans and whines spilling from the both of you

“Oh my god. Oh my god, Jake. Fuck!” You practically scream. “Right fucking there!”

“You’re mine, angel.” He growls into your ear. “Gonna fill you up. Get you fucking pregnant. Show everyone that you belong to me.”

“Fill me up, Jake. Sir, please.” The ‘sir’ slips out of you on instinct, and you can feel Jake starting to lose his control. He’s fucking you harder than he ever has – his movements practically feral.

“God, the fans...” He starts, reaching his right hand up to tangle in your hair and pull – causing you to arch backwards into him. “They’re gonna fucking lose it seeing you all big and round with MY baby. Jesus.”

“I want it so bad, Jake. Knock me up! Please!” Your words are starting to slur together and you can feel it as your body starts to tremble and shake. It feels like your nerve endings are on fire.

“You’re gonna be so fucking sexy when you’re pregnant, Y/n.” He growls, his pace beginning to falter. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“Give it to me, Jake.” You beg, tossing your head back with a moan as he reaches his hand around you to circle your clit.

“Gonna give it to you, angel. Get you fucking fat and pregnant. Fuck!”

A high pitch moan escapes you as you cum again, and the feeling of your walls clenching around his length has him spilling into you.

He groans loudly as he finishes – louder than you’ve ever heard him as he rocks his hips into you, making sure to get every last drop of his release deep inside of you.

Finally, he collapses into you – utterly spent. You both lay there in silence, the sweat covering both of you causing your skin to stick together, though both of you are too tired to care.

Eventually, he pulls out of you, hissing as he goes. You roll over onto your back, taking in the fucked out expression on his face.

“Hi.” You say, grinning up at him.

“Hi, baby.” His smile back to you is soft and his eyes practically glitter as they look at you. “Think it worked?”

You giggle softly.

“I hope so. If not, we’ll just have to try again.”

“We should probably just go ahead and try again tomorrow anyway. Just to be safe.”

That draws a real laugh out of you, and he leans down to press a sweet kiss to your lips.

“Y/n.” He says suddenly, pulling away from the kiss with wide eyes. “I’ve just realized something.”

“What?” You ask, taken aback by his abruptness.

“Your boobs are gonna get so big.” He says with a wolfish grin, and you sigh at him dramatically.

“Jacob Thomas Kiszka, you are a menace.”

--------

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