I like smut as much as the next person but yall aren't even trying to write anymore. All fanfic on here is just 300 words of sex and then just tagging any character you think fits.
pairing : bird-coded!supe!reader x The Deep (Homelander briefly shows up)
summary : You and Deep loathed each other and constantly fought, and Homelander decided it was enough. You two were now sent on a vacation, in hopes you two bond.. or finally shut the fuck up.
warning/tags : enemies to fwb (friends part is debatable), choking, blood, canon typical violence, reader is part of the seven, gn!reader, reader is really mean, MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI, eventual smut, all characters depicted are over the age of 20, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it!), hair pulling, penetrative sex, subby deep, beach sex, deep fucks reader in mating press, reader THEN fucks him cowgirl style, blood play?, orgasm denial, masochistic!deep, lots of scratching, gags used
word count : 5.8k+
AN : sorry for taking so long, I’m a really slow writer!!! this was supposed to be a one shot smut fic but it quickly devolved into madness. If anything’s unrealistic, I’m sorry, I never choked anyone or had sex on a beach with my arch nemesis. My first time writing a fic (and a smut fic at that) so expect if things are amateurish 😭 anyway I think smut in my country is probably illegal so read it while you can!!
also I remember someone asking me to tag him when this fic would be finished so here you go, enjoy!! @faggotboyfreak
You and Kevin had… quite the rocky coworker-ship at first, let’s say. He didn’t hate you, in fact— he thought you were pretty interesting… and weird. The bird-like behavior creeped him out.
But that indifference started growing into disdain—when you started mimicking the sound of a Grindr notification every time you hung out around him and his wife, well—ex wife, Cassandra, so much so that she started thinking he was gay. His ex wife thinks he’s gay. She even fucking said it on the television!
You thought it was funny. He didn’t. He wanted to do something back to you, maybe even violent— but he was pathetic compared to you, in terms of strength. So he usually stuck to calling name-calling you, and that didn’t really fix your already crumbling bond that had a bunch of torn up bandaids stuck on to it.
Oh, another time, after you found out what he did to Starlight, you ate his precious octo-buddy. Right in front of him. Raw. Actually, you didn’t stop there. You kept eating his ocean friends— just to piss him off. You treat him like he’s your human punching bag, and now everyone at Vought knows you two loathe each other.
The hatred radiating around you two so much, to the point it was starting to bleed into your and his public appearances in media.
His side eyes. Your quick frowns that melted away like a candle near the sun. The brows furrowing when one of you opened your mouths to answer a question from that one pissy interviewer. It got so bad to the point that the paparazzi somehow managed to snap a picture of you and Kevin fighting!
Well, verbally. It hasn’t gotten physical… yet.
It was quite the passive aggressive game in the public eye, and fans slowly knew you were trying very hard to not peck his eyes out—
Which is why Homelander sent the both of you away on a vacation.
“You two need a break,” Homelander points to your chest, voice echoing throughout The Seven’s meeting room. “I need a fucking break! From… from all your head butting!” He rests his hands on his hips, staring at Kevin in irritation.. it’s like he was considering lasering the guy’s head off.
“I keep getting complaints from the PR department, that you two are a torture to handle— which you are, but you—Deep—need to man the fuck up and pretend to like your feathery friend here! Your.. pettiness is ruining our image.”
You crossed your arms, pinching the bridge of your nose. Kevin huffs, narrowed blue eyes staring at the floor.. and then back up at Homelander. “…Okay.”
He was just glad that he got to relax in a coastal place… even if it’s with the worst person ever.
You sigh out of exhaustion, wanting to get this over with. “How long is it? The vacation.”
“Three weeks.” Homelander says firmly, leaving no room for argument as he turned his back to you and Kevin, his cape following him. “Ugh, stupid fish bitch and barbarian birdie—“ He mutters under his breath as he swiftly walked away.
Great. Now it’s just you two.
“I… suppose I’ll start packing,” You turn to walk to your office, thinking of bring your sunflower seeds with you while on a trip to the ocean hell.
Kevin smugly chuckles as he walks besides you, “We have people for that, dumbass.”
“Yeah—well, sometimes I want to pack things I like rather than having some— some barely alive employee assume it for me!” You shout at him, pausing the walk in the middle of the empty hallway.
“Hey—you’re not going to get a Vemmy award if you loudly announce the fact that you like packing your stupid bullshit!”
“That’s not even what Vemmies are for—Just— fuck you!”
“Fuck me yourself!“ He ‘accidentally’ blurts out, his gloved hand immediately covering his mouth.
You blink your eyes, staring at the man. Kevin was suddenly glancing out the window, gazing at the view of the skyscrapers afar and whistling as though he was calm. He was not.
In all of your petty cat fights, he’s never… said something like that. Sure, he’s a pervert—and that’s nearly an understatement of how he acts around people, especially women. And he sure loves making himself seem more macho than he actually is, which means he constantly assures people and himself that he is totally the dominant guy in bed. But him? Wanting to be…. No. It totally was a slip up.
Why by you of all people? It doesn’t make sense, he hated you as much as you hated him! Which was a lot. But what he said felt… right. You simply didn’t want to show how much you actually like this one uncharacteristically raw moment of your chaotic relationship. So, to distract yourself—
Your hand goes straight to his neck, grip unrelenting as you pressed him towards the glass window—he chokes out a gasp, widened eyes flickering at you. Like a frightened deer. It was almost pitiful yet.. endearing, how nice he looked when scared shitless.
“The fuck you said to me?” Your talons dig into his neck, the sharp tips of your nails drawing blood. He yelps, “Nothing— it was… uh, the wind!” He smiles nervously, avoiding looking into your eyes. He had gills, yes, but for a moment he felt like he couldn’t breathe..
You narrow your eyes at him, brows furrowed, faces impossibly close, the tip of your noses touching, then you finally let go—red dripping from your nails onto the marble white floor. He let a sigh of relief, shoulders drooping as he gingerly touched his neck. Jesus, he’s never felt so hard in his entire life.
“Trying to flirt with me?”
“…No?”
You ignore his answer, “Don’t do it again. Ever.” You grunt, turning away and proceeded to walk back to your office through the hallway. Shit, that method didn’t distract you as well as you thought it would.
Meanwhile, Kevin just… stood there. Leaning against the window, trying to collect his thoughts. And all he could think of was how he wanted your hands on his neck again. How he wanted to feel your nails dig into his skin again.
Fuck, this is the first time in his life that he looked at someone without thinking about what they could give him sexually—the first time he accepted the scraps of physical touch of what someone had to give him, even if it was intended to be violent. The first time pain felt so good.
Whatever. With the way you reacted, he supposes he’ll tone down his ‘accidental’ flirts. He never thought about considering other people’s feelings until now.
“God, I have it bad…” He runs his fingers through his brunette hair, currently ignoring the red dots punctured into his neck. And his raging hard on.
- - -
Golden sand stretching across the shore, waves rolling and crashing. The sky shined in light orange. It was a private beach, so of course people weren’t around. Not many, anyway.
Kevin shifts his gaze from the view outside the window, looking over at you who was sat in a couch watching some shitty Vought-made sitcom. You two had just arrived to the beach house, after a flight of six hours— and tired out of your minds.
He decided the best way to relax was to take a short swim in the sea, but… it’d feel so empty without someone by his side. Oh, and he knows he can’t interact with any sea animals in the sea too— without the risk of you trying to eat it.
Guess he’s stuck with you, whether for the best or the worst. He closes his eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath. “Hey,” He calls out to you, walking into the awfully sea themed living room and sat next to you on the squeaky couch. With distance, of course. He still.. kinda hated you. He doesn’t know, since the last interaction.
You pause the sitcom, TV remote in your hand. “…What?” You tiredly blink at him.
“Uh,” He pauses, scratching the back of his neck as he sat back into the couch. “Ever swam before? Or the idea of it pisses you off?”
“…Once. In a swimming pool.”
“A swimming pool? Come on, dude. They’re a fucking mockery of what it’s like swimming in the sea!” He chuckles, though deep down he would’ve loved to drown the person who invented them.
“You’re seriously comparing.. water? To water?” You raise a brow, crossing your arms. Only this man would be offended at the most useless things ever if it was directed to his ‘precious’ ocean. Ahem, the dolphin truck incident said enough.
“No, one is artificial and pathetic. One is natural and beautiful—a life changing experience! But of course your birdy ass wouldn’t get it.” He scoffs, looking away from you.
You suddenly come to a realization, face palming. “Are you trying to get me to swim with you?”
“…Uhm..”
“Deep, fucking tell me or else I’ll—”
“Fine—fine, I am! It’s not like you’re enjoying watching that bullshit anyway.” He points to the paused sitcom on the TV screen. You huff, damn it… he was right.
“Just… join me.” He hesitates, “Please.”
Looks like plans of toning down his ‘flirts’ were thrown in the bin already.
You simply throw your head back, groaning— “Get off your ass and swim, then. I’ll come.” You nod, pinching the bridge of your nose. You couldn’t be that mad about it, though. You two were sent here just to stop quarrelling all the time.
He smiles, those soft eyes lighting up at your acceptance— even if out of annoyance. “Kay,” He stands up from the couch, jogging up to the window and slid it open, hopping outside through it as his feet touched the ground—Feeling the salty breeze immediately hit him, the heat of the sun felt on his skin.
“Oh my fucking god,” You whisper scream to yourself, burying your face into your hands. He ignored the door right next to the window.
- - -
Seagulls flying across the candlelit sky, black silhouette of moving boats and jet skis on the horizon. The bright orange sunlight hitting your skin— the sound of foot steps crunching on the sand as you two reached the shallow waters of the sea. Submerged in water till your knees.
He gasps at the sight of a tiny little orange blob stuck in the sand, “What the..” he carefully scoops it out of the sand, the orange blob laying on his flat palm.
You tilt your head, “..And that’s?” You trailed off, curious.
“A baby octopus!” He giggles, shifting closer to you. Then he realised it was you he was talking to, and immediately backed away—narrowing his eyes at you.
“That’s right,” You hum, wiping the sweat off your forehead from the sun’s heat torturing everyone on sight. “Keep that thing away from me. Disgusting.”
“It’s just a baby!” He exclaimed, sighing out of exhaustion before setting the orange blob off, away onto the waters—shaking his head. “This is why we can’t get along. I mean, you’re a screeching flying maniac— and I’m a relaxed guy who cares about his ocean friends!”
“Acting like Homelander isn’t a screeching flying maniac too? Pffft, you really love choking on his dick.”
You cackled, slapping his shoulder as he nearly jumped out of the water from the force. Man, fuck you and your super-shit strength, he thought.
“Yeah, but he favours me and.. well,” He trails off, shrugging. “I can’t pretend that he does the same for you.” He crouched down to settle down in the low clear waters.
“You’re delusional,” You rub your temples, looking at the pouting man below you. “I.. uh, suppose he’s bitter about the fact that he isn’t the only man in the sky anymore,” You observed— deciding to sit down next to him, crossing your legs as you grab a shell from underwater and fiddle with it.
He pauses, scratching his chin for a second—before immediately nodding. Though, he did not say anything, incase Homelander heard him shit talk. But we all know that he does not care enough about Kevin to be this extreme.
Silence grows between you two, gazing at the sun standing high above all. It wasn’t sunset yet, and you two could spend all the time here you wanted. Whether you and him calm down and have a civil conversation, or it be a screaming match.
But the rivalry was fun, friendly or not.
The salty breeze hits your face like a slap— the seashell nearly falling from your hands, before you closed your fingers around it tightly. “Hey, were we talking about fish, weren’t we?”
He turns his gaze from the sky to you, “Octopuses are actually mollusks, but.. yeah?”
“Yeah yeah, whatever—May I kindly ask,” You pause, “What on god’s green Earth was going on with the animals in the Cambrian period?”
“Stop being mean, they were trying shit out!” He covered his mouth, trying to stop a laugh from the mean comment. You smile wryly, resting your chin in your palm.
“How do you even know that? I mean, no one around here… in The Seven really care about fish. Especially you of all people.” He pondered, fingers playing with the water boredly.
“Birds eat fish,” You simply state, “And I need to know what kind of bullshit I’m eating.” You fidgeted with the cone shaped seashell before dipping it into the water to wash off the stuck sand.
“Uh, fishes from the Cambrian period don’t exist today—but sure. Nothing makes sense when I’m talking to you.” He shakes his head, “You don’t even know what baby octopuses look like.”
“I’m not a fuckin’ marine biologist, sorry.” You tiredly retorted, staring at the cone seashell in your hands. “This,” you held the greyish-blue shell between the pad of your thumb and your index finger, “Kinda looks like your eyes.”
“Mhm,” He hums, pretty eyes glancing at the shell before gazing away—down somewhere stupid like.. sand. Fuck, he was so cute. Why did he have to be such a pathetic loser?
“I’ll keep it—“
“Don’t!”
You pinch the bridge of your nose, narrowing your eyes at him. “And why the shit not?”
“Because—because hermit crabs really need those types of shells!” He tried to reason, though it’d be hopeless trying to make you care about some menial fish. “They’ll die if they don’t.”
“Oh, fuck off. I’m just this close to respecting you, and now you have to be petty about wanting to keep a shell for my memory sakes?” You barked, shaking your head. Standing up from the water, slipping the blue shell into the pockets of your shorts.
He stammers, “You’re leaving already?” Sad eyes look up at you, brows furrowed.
“Yeah, I need a break from you. And a shower too.” You turn from him, walking away from the shore as footprints were left in the sand back to the beach house.
He looked over his shoulder, before exhaling deeply and buried his sweaty face into his gloved hands. He really wanted to say ‘Without me?’ in response to the shower comment, but you would’ve done something worse than choking him. Maybe he wanted worse.
But the worst thing he’s heard from you, is you being ‘this close to respecting him.’ Yeah, no one in or out of Vought respected him— he was just the diversity hire fish guy. After killing a few humans who laughed at him here and there, sure, people sort of stopped being so vocal about it… but he could still feel their annoyance and utter lack of care for him. He couldn’t handle that, being treated like a joke.
That all changed when you joined The Seven. He respected you, shockingly. Yes, you treat him like a punching bag, but for once in his ‘awful’ life, he had someone else to focus on other than himself. He could finally stop pitying himself for mistakes and crimes he’s done to other people—all he thinks about is you. He can’t stop thinking about you, even prior the choking incident—he can’t stop thinking about hurting you, about crushing your face to the back of your skull, about licking your blood off his hands, about your hands around his neck, about having your nails scratching against his back as your legs were wrapped around his waist—
He shakes his head, his fingers curling into his hair. “No, no no no—“ he utters to himself, glancing at the reflection of himself in the water. “What the fuck am I...” He groaned.
He should not think about that. You just said that you were almost going to respect him! That should piss him off, not make him want to prove you right!
He looks up at the sky, dark hues of orange and purple mixing together like water colours. Looks like It’s finally sunset.
He crosses his arms against his chest, still sitting in the same exact spot— and tries to listen to the rhythmic crashes of the waves, the seagulls screeching like usual, instead of.. whatever the hell his brain is doing. He didn’t want to be in the house the same time as you.
- - -
You step out of the shower and into the awfully sea themed bedroom—shutting the door behind you. Pulling your white robe on—tying the ribbons together loosely. You slid on the sandals as you walked up to the bed, which had your towel lazily thrown over it.
As you wiped the excess water off your face, you look out the window—seeing Kevin still out there. Sitting on the sand, probably looking into the reflection of himself into the water like the self obsessed bastard he is. Maybe he’s thinking about something, and you really wondered what fish-brains was in deep thought about to sit outside in the hot summer evening heat for thirty minutes.
Or an hour. Who knows, you weren’t keeping in check with the time.
You slide open the window, hopping through it as your feet touched the sandy grounds. You feel the salty breeze immediately hit you, the heat of the sun felt on your skin. God, the weather really sucked—already feeling yourself melting.
Golden sand stretching along the coastline, waves crashing against the shore. The crimson shimmer reflected across the dark waters, the red sun shining with a blueish-pink backdrop. It was late.
Kevin, who was uncharacteristically idle, was starting at the sun. It had to remind him of the dots poked into his neck—fuck, why did everything have to remind him of you?
He shook his head, resting his chin on his knees as he simply closed his eyes to just… ignore everything for a moment. Ignore you, and this horrible but addicting bond.
“Deep?” You call out, him immediately turning his head to look at you.
“Uh— umm, yeah?”
“You’ve been sitting here for an hour. What’s wrong with you?” You roll your eyes, sand crunching as you walk up to the man. “Not even swimming or anything—just on your ass like usual.”
“Wow. You’re shocked that the Lord Of The Seven Seas is relaxing at the beach?” He glares at you, crossing his arms as eyes glance back at the red sun slowly being enveloped by the indigo sea. “And I’m not in the mood to be around you. I don’t wanna spend fucking years here with the person I don’t like.” He lied to himself, but also said the truth. His feelings were complicated, you and him together were complicated!
“Weeks, idiot. And don’t call yourself that, it sounds embarrassing.” You correct him, huffing as you also sit down next to him on the sand—with a bit of distance between you two. He scoffs, “Feels like years with you.”
He side eyes you, though his eyes travel down to where your robe reveals just enough of your shoulder. At this point, he was slowly starting to not care about how strangely attracted he was to someone that he abuses and is abused by daily.
You roll your eyes again, sitting back and exhaled deeply. “I should’ve killed you a long time ago,” you coldly stated.
His eyes widen, head snapping towards you. “The fuck’s wrong with you?”
“But now it’s too late.”
“Huh?”
You hum, brows furrowing. “The.. way you’ve been acting around me recently. Almost never looking me in the eye. Not calling me names like you used to. Being slightly kinder than usual. Like you’re walking on eggshells.”
He shrugs, sarcastically saying. “Maybe it’s because you tried to choke me to death?” And he also liked it.
“We tried to kill each-other multiple times before that.”
The entire time you were trying to confront him, it was just skirting around the fact that he loudly yelled that he wanted you to rail him. You never mentioned it—he never mentioned it. Maybe you two wanted to do more than punching each other’s guts out, but god is it not taking years to just admit that?
“Deep, just…” You mumbled to yourself, “Tell me the truth, why you’re acting like—“ You gestured to him entirely, “—this towards me!”
He leans closer, narrowing his eyes. “Back off.”
“You’re the one leaning closer!” You point a finger at him.
He suddenly places both of his gloved hands on your bare shoulders, shaking you. “I don’t even want you, not as much as you think I fucking do!” He lies.
“Then tell me, what you feel! I am sick and tired of assuming all your bloody thoughts—“
“I can’t stop, can’t stop thinking of you. I need you on me. Just… your hands on me, holding my neck like you hate me.”
You roughly exhale, eyes slightly widening as you shift your gaze from his shy face to the rolling waves of the ocean.
“I’m.. I’m sorry, okay? You deserve better than me. Someone that loves you. We’re not supposed to do more than just… cause headaches for everyone in Vought, but I can’t fuckin’ help it.” He stammered, fingers digging into your skin. He never apologizes, and he feels so helpless—but maybe he liked feeling helpless around you. “I can’t stop thinking of you— of it. I need too much from you, and I want you under me goddamnit!”
You gasp, eyes going back to his face—him breathing deeply as though he was drowning in his need for you. Resting your hand atop of his, shifting closer to him. “As much you’re like the dirt under my nails,” He raises a brow. You smile wryly, “At least you’re.. useful for something.”
Just like that, his restraint shattered into pieces. You won’t walk for a week. Hell, maybe he won’t walk for a week too.
He groans, suddenly pushing you down to the sand and untying the ribbons holding your robe together. “You’re wearing nothing under this?” He whispers dumbly, shivering under the touch of your naked legs wrapped around his waist. He was so pathetic for you.
“How else am I supposed to wear them, dickhead—“
He silences you with his lips to yours, and you curl your fingers into his brunette hair—his lips so familiar it made you want to scream. You moan into his mouth—tongue sliding over his, while he grinds his hips into the warm space between your thighs because of his fucked up need for you.
“Yeah,” He sighs, slightly pulling away. “Look at you, acting like a whor-“
And the next thing he feels is teeth biting his bottom lip so hard it bleeds. “Shit— oh jeez,“ He shouts painfully, gloved fingers brushing the blood off his busted lips. “What’s next, you’re gonna stab me while we fuck too!?”
You grunt, fingers leaving his hair and trailing onto his arms—pushing his hand out of his face, and steering them down to his belt that was surprisingly, not unbuckled. “Maybe, if you don’t shut up,” You murmur, undoing the gold belt impatiently. You had to remind him who’s in charge here, and it definitely wasn’t him. But god, feeling your arousal spike up seeing him on top of you felt so wrong but so right.
Your eyes widen seeing his hardened cock spring out—already leaking, and you start to realize why he has an ego the size of his dick. Who wouldn’t?
He smirks, his tone smug as his voice brushes against your ear. “Gonna stare at it all day or what?”
Your eyes shift back to the sky, your face warming up. “Just—just shove it in already!” You wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders, burying your face into his neck. Fuck, he wasn’t supposed to make you feel like this—feel flustered!
He shrugs, grabbing your thighs—spreading them wider, whimpering pathetically as his tip slips into you. You grit your teeth, raising an eyebrow at the utter noises coming from him. “Are you always this loud?”
“No— not… not always,” He stutters, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. Fingers digging into the sand, as he roughly sinks into your warm wet walls—letting out another whiny moan right into your ear. Like he was the one getting fucked instead of you. His voice almost made you explode.
You arch your back, shivering, feeling him throbbing in you, hands splayed against his neck as you rest your forehead against his—eyes closed like you two were lovers and not enemies.
“God, you feel so good,” he praises, your hands travelling to the back of his neck. “Yeah? Then shut the fuck up and start movin—“
He interrupts you with a sharp slam of his hips, rutting against you desperately while you cried out in pleasure with your eyes flicking open. Hands clinging to his neck and shoulders for dear life.
You couldn’t even think—process that the man you hated the most was inside you, just stupidly staring at it slide in and out with a squelchy sound each time.
Your fingers go up to yank his hair and bring his face closer to yours, “You… fuckin’ devil,” and he was about to whine again—but your lips swallowed his noises of desire, licking and kissing the crimson off as blood dripped down his chin. His fingers trace your jaw, nooses smooshed against each other, hips still drilling into you like a machine.
As you two pull away from the rather bloody kiss, a red string of saliva connecting you and him—he pauses his mindless thrusting. Exhausted sighs left his red, messy, kissed and flushed lips. His felt his lower lip burn and sting, but every single wound he took from you felt worth it, and so did this one.
He glances at you under him, panting deeply but licking his crimson off your lips—ankles lazily crossed over his back.
“Tired? Already?” He quickly started pounding into you again, wanting to see desire and want cloud your eyes and make you go blind for him.
Every time his cock hammered into you, skin slapping against skin, extracted a carnal cry from you—practically fucking your ego out of you. And Kevin liked that, how good he made you feel. How loudly he made you moan. How your legs locked around his lower back even harder.
“Fuck, you’re so deep…“
You moan his name over and over again, brows knitting together—eyes widening when he slams into that one sweet spot and clench around him. Your fingers curling against his back with sharp nails digging through the green shirt and scratching his skin once again—leaving him gasping.
He leans to your un-touched neck, kissing down from your pulse point up until your jawline.
“Your neck—” He lightly nips at the red smeared skin, “It’s.. five kisses long,” You let out a whine, trying to hold yourself together so you don’t just… combust all over him. Why is he saying the cutest bullshit ever, while balls deep in you?
Since you thought he overtook you long enough, your fingers latch onto his shoulders—completely flipping him over, underneath you, back to the sand while you now straddled his cock. He pouts, bucking his hips into you. “No, please,” he pleads, gloved hands climbing underneath your robe and groping at your waist desperately. Yeah, you just blue-balled him, and that pissed him off—but he was too horny to even think about being mildly annoyed at you.
“Oh god, please, I’m so close—“
“Not yet.”
Shushing him, you shrug your robe off your shoulders and slowly move down him—but not fast enough to get him off. He kept letting out cries and moans, whining about how you should go faster, fingers digging into your hips so hard it leaves marks and dents, and kept looking at you with those poor little eyes.
“Please please please please please please—“ He begged as he threw his head back, eyes becoming teary from both pleasure and frustration.
Rolling your eyes, you slide his glove off his hand and yank his hair—pulling forward and stuffing the glove into his mouth as a makeshift gag. He still let out a shameless, loud cry, though muffled.
“Can’t be quiet, huh? Fucking brat,” You pant as you slam down against his cock, and he bucks into you even harder, your knees shaking.
“You—you really wanted me to fuck you this badly?” You tease, fingers grasping his chin, and that question leaves him nodding his head. Yes, he wanted you to sleep with him. But he was becoming greedy, and he’s not sure if you’re wanting to like him.. love him, even.
Of course you’d never like him, but at least he had a pretty face and pretty eyes that’d roll back and pretty moans and a pretty neck that you could wrap your hands around. The pad of your thumbs brush against tiny dried circles of red on the skin, him shuddering at your touch.
“You’re so easy to please,” you breathlessly say, his fingers capturing yours and intertwining them together while his other hand was busy digging bruises and marks into the fat of your waist.
Needless to say, he was getting close—by the way his pupils were blown, every whine even escaping through the glove, hips bucking every time you bounced up and down on his dick—ass slapping against his thighs. Your hips stutter, you were close too.
Hands leaving his neck, you pluck the glove out of his mouth, eager to hear how loud he gets when nearing his climax. Mouth gaping—groaning loudly, “Oh, fuck—you’re so amazing,” he mewls, fluttering eyes watching you ride him with a quickened pace. “Mmm… I—I think I’m—“
“I said, not yet.”
Interrupting him by sliding your thumb into his mouth, him sucking on it like it was a lollipop. He was sucking it way too well, actually… maybe Cassandra was right… whatever, you didn’t care at the moment.
“Huh… guess I should’ve fucked your mouth first,” you tirelessly huff out, chasing your high with your other hand grasping his shoulders—wet walls clenching around his twitching cock, his eyes rolling back and closing them shut.
Tutting, you slam your hips down harder, his eyes fluttering open as he let out a mewl—wet thumb leaving his mouth with a pop as you grab his chin and pull him forward. “Don’t close those pretty eyes,” you lean in and rest your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent, muttering into his skin as you pump yourself onto him.
“Wanna look at ‘em before I—“ Your release tears through your body, interrupting your words with a heaving, deep gasp—biting into the already marked skin of him, just to have ahold of something, someone—leaving him whimpering. His eyes glaze over your panting, shaky figure atop his, arms hugging your waist snuggly.
God, to see you like this—the hands that tried to choke him now gently laying on his shoulders, that mouth that always spouted insults at him now softly biting and kissing his neck, those legs that’ve kicked him in the back of his knees now intertwined with his, just to see you relax on top of him. It was a nice break from all the biting, scratching and man-handling.
His voice, shakily asks, “Can… can I—“
“Mmhm,” You hum softly into his neck, approving.
He pants as his hips thrusted into you—head tilting back into the sand, exposing his marked and scarred neck further.
“Marks,” he demands, “leave marks.”
Not like anyone else would see them anyway.
You smile against his neck, kissing his pulse point before your teeth clenched his flushed skin once again.
That’s it, that’s all it took for when he finally carves his hips into yours—nails now scratching your back, moans of praise now being carried along in the salty winds forever, feeling him hit that sweet spot and spill into you, fill you whole like no one has—dick twitching and sopping with cum, heat prickling at your stomach.
He closes his eyes, breathlessly muttering, “My god,” he felt your teeth graze his pulse, lifting his head back up to look back at you. Lips and teeth leaving his ravaged neck, you get the energy to sit up straight—still inside him, connected to him. Right as you were about to lift your hips up, his hands slid down to your hips—slamming you down onto his dick.
“What the—“
“Please,” He pleads, “Just—just stay with me. I.. wanna savor this.” He whispers. “Even if you hate me in the morning, I want this to last.”
You huff, placing your hands onto his sweaty shoulders. “And why would a horndog like you want this to last, huh?”
You lied, raising an eyebrow at the overly clingy behavior. You knew why he was like this with you. He was exactly like this with Sage, and whoever else gave him enough attention for him to get off to. Even if most of the attention you gave him was nothing but pain, blood, and tears, he would eat it up like a starving dog.
He didn’t answer, and he didn’t want to. At this point, he didn’t care if you and him were enemies, or if this news spreads around Vought, or how it went from night to day, or how sunny it is, or how the glare is hurting his eyes, all he wanted was for you to—
“Kiss me.”
He says, as though it was his first time kissing you.
You roll your eyes, leaning in closer anyways, “Gonna boss me around now?”
“No, I just want you to—”
your fingers grab the back of his neck and pulling him into the deep kiss, arms now wrapped around his neck—hands hugging your waist nicely. He giggles in between the kisses, “God, you’re kinda fun to kiss,” You slightly pull away from his lips, a string of saliva connecting your lips together.
“I f ucking bit you, and you’re calling that ‘kinda fun’?”
He chuckles against your lips, resting his forehead against yours.
“Well.. I guess you were keeping me on edge?”
“…Fuck you.”
“You already did.”
thank you so much for reading!!! reblogs and comments are very appreciated <33
pairing : bird-coded!supe!reader x The Deep (Homelander briefly shows up)
summary : You and Deep loathed each other and constantly fought, and Homelander decided it was enough. You two were now sent on a vacation, in hopes you two bond.. or finally shut the fuck up.
warning/tags : enemies to fwb (friends part is debatable), choking, blood, canon typical violence, reader is part of the seven, gn!reader, reader is really mean, MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI, eventual smut, all characters depicted are over the age of 20, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it!), hair pulling, penetrative sex, subby deep, beach sex, deep fucks reader in mating press, reader THEN fucks him cowgirl style, blood play?, orgasm denial, masochistic!deep, lots of scratching, gags used
word count : 5.8k+
AN : sorry for taking so long, I’m a really slow writer!!! this was supposed to be a one shot smut fic but it quickly devolved into madness. If anything’s unrealistic, I’m sorry, I never choked anyone or had sex on a beach with my arch nemesis. My first time writing a fic (and a smut fic at that) so expect if things are amateurish 😭 anyway I think smut in my country is probably illegal so read it while you can!!
also I remember someone asking me to tag him when this fic would be finished so here you go, enjoy!! @faggotboyfreak
You and Kevin had… quite the rocky coworker-ship at first, let’s say. He didn’t hate you, in fact— he thought you were pretty interesting… and weird. The bird-like behavior creeped him out.
But that indifference started growing into disdain—when you started mimicking the sound of a Grindr notification every time you hung out around him and his wife, well—ex wife, Cassandra, so much so that she started thinking he was gay. His ex wife thinks he’s gay. She even fucking said it on the television!
You thought it was funny. He didn’t. He wanted to do something back to you, maybe even violent— but he was pathetic compared to you, in terms of strength. So he usually stuck to calling name-calling you, and that didn’t really fix your already crumbling bond that had a bunch of torn up bandaids stuck on to it.
Oh, another time, after you found out what he did to Starlight, you ate his precious octo-buddy. Right in front of him. Raw. Actually, you didn’t stop there. You kept eating his ocean friends— just to piss him off. You treat him like he’s your human punching bag, and now everyone at Vought knows you two loathe each other.
The hatred radiating around you two so much, to the point it was starting to bleed into your and his public appearances in media.
His side eyes. Your quick frowns that melted away like a candle near the sun. The brows furrowing when one of you opened your mouths to answer a question from that one pissy interviewer. It got so bad to the point that the paparazzi somehow managed to snap a picture of you and Kevin fighting!
Well, verbally. It hasn’t gotten physical… yet.
It was quite the passive aggressive game in the public eye, and fans slowly knew you were trying very hard to not peck his eyes out—
Which is why Homelander sent the both of you away on a vacation.
“You two need a break,” Homelander points to your chest, voice echoing throughout The Seven’s meeting room. “I need a fucking break! From… from all your head butting!” He rests his hands on his hips, staring at Kevin in irritation.. it’s like he was considering lasering the guy’s head off.
“I keep getting complaints from the PR department, that you two are a torture to handle— which you are, but you—Deep—need to man the fuck up and pretend to like your feathery friend here! Your.. pettiness is ruining our image.”
You crossed your arms, pinching the bridge of your nose. Kevin huffs, narrowed blue eyes staring at the floor.. and then back up at Homelander. “…Okay.”
He was just glad that he got to relax in a coastal place… even if it’s with the worst person ever.
You sigh out of exhaustion, wanting to get this over with. “How long is it? The vacation.”
“Three weeks.” Homelander says firmly, leaving no room for argument as he turned his back to you and Kevin, his cape following him. “Ugh, stupid fish bitch and barbarian birdie—“ He mutters under his breath as he swiftly walked away.
Great. Now it’s just you two.
“I… suppose I’ll start packing,” You turn to walk to your office, thinking of bring your sunflower seeds with you while on a trip to the ocean hell.
Kevin smugly chuckles as he walks besides you, “We have people for that, dumbass.”
“Yeah—well, sometimes I want to pack things I like rather than having some— some barely alive employee assume it for me!” You shout at him, pausing the walk in the middle of the empty hallway.
“Hey—you’re not going to get a Vemmy award if you loudly announce the fact that you like packing your stupid bullshit!”
“That’s not even what Vemmies are for—Just— fuck you!”
“Fuck me yourself!“ He ‘accidentally’ blurts out, his gloved hand immediately covering his mouth.
You blink your eyes, staring at the man. Kevin was suddenly glancing out the window, gazing at the view of the skyscrapers afar and whistling as though he was calm. He was not.
In all of your petty cat fights, he’s never… said something like that. Sure, he’s a pervert—and that’s nearly an understatement of how he acts around people, especially women. And he sure loves making himself seem more macho than he actually is, which means he constantly assures people and himself that he is totally the dominant guy in bed. But him? Wanting to be…. No. It totally was a slip up.
Why by you of all people? It doesn’t make sense, he hated you as much as you hated him! Which was a lot. But what he said felt… right. You simply didn’t want to show how much you actually like this one uncharacteristically raw moment of your chaotic relationship. So, to distract yourself—
Your hand goes straight to his neck, grip unrelenting as you pressed him towards the glass window—he chokes out a gasp, widened eyes flickering at you. Like a frightened deer. It was almost pitiful yet.. endearing, how nice he looked when scared shitless.
“The fuck you said to me?” Your talons dig into his neck, the sharp tips of your nails drawing blood. He yelps, “Nothing— it was… uh, the wind!” He smiles nervously, avoiding looking into your eyes. He had gills, yes, but for a moment he felt like he couldn’t breathe..
You narrow your eyes at him, brows furrowed, faces impossibly close, the tip of your noses touching, then you finally let go—red dripping from your nails onto the marble white floor. He let a sigh of relief, shoulders drooping as he gingerly touched his neck. Jesus, he’s never felt so hard in his entire life.
“Trying to flirt with me?”
“…No?”
You ignore his answer, “Don’t do it again. Ever.” You grunt, turning away and proceeded to walk back to your office through the hallway. Shit, that method didn’t distract you as well as you thought it would.
Meanwhile, Kevin just… stood there. Leaning against the window, trying to collect his thoughts. And all he could think of was how he wanted your hands on his neck again. How he wanted to feel your nails dig into his skin again.
Fuck, this is the first time in his life that he looked at someone without thinking about what they could give him sexually—the first time he accepted the scraps of physical touch of what someone had to give him, even if it was intended to be violent. The first time pain felt so good.
Whatever. With the way you reacted, he supposes he’ll tone down his ‘accidental’ flirts. He never thought about considering other people’s feelings until now.
“God, I have it bad…” He runs his fingers through his brunette hair, currently ignoring the red dots punctured into his neck. And his raging hard on.
- - -
Golden sand stretching across the shore, waves rolling and crashing. The sky shined in light orange. It was a private beach, so of course people weren’t around. Not many, anyway.
Kevin shifts his gaze from the view outside the window, looking over at you who was sat in a couch watching some shitty Vought-made sitcom. You two had just arrived to the beach house, after a flight of six hours— and tired out of your minds.
He decided the best way to relax was to take a short swim in the sea, but… it’d feel so empty without someone by his side. Oh, and he knows he can’t interact with any sea animals in the sea too— without the risk of you trying to eat it.
Guess he’s stuck with you, whether for the best or the worst. He closes his eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath. “Hey,” He calls out to you, walking into the awfully sea themed living room and sat next to you on the squeaky couch. With distance, of course. He still.. kinda hated you. He doesn’t know, since the last interaction.
You pause the sitcom, TV remote in your hand. “…What?” You tiredly blink at him.
“Uh,” He pauses, scratching the back of his neck as he sat back into the couch. “Ever swam before? Or the idea of it pisses you off?”
“…Once. In a swimming pool.”
“A swimming pool? Come on, dude. They’re a fucking mockery of what it’s like swimming in the sea!” He chuckles, though deep down he would’ve loved to drown the person who invented them.
“You’re seriously comparing.. water? To water?” You raise a brow, crossing your arms. Only this man would be offended at the most useless things ever if it was directed to his ‘precious’ ocean. Ahem, the dolphin truck incident said enough.
“No, one is artificial and pathetic. One is natural and beautiful—a life changing experience! But of course your birdy ass wouldn’t get it.” He scoffs, looking away from you.
You suddenly come to a realization, face palming. “Are you trying to get me to swim with you?”
“…Uhm..”
“Deep, fucking tell me or else I’ll—”
“Fine—fine, I am! It’s not like you’re enjoying watching that bullshit anyway.” He points to the paused sitcom on the TV screen. You huff, damn it… he was right.
“Just… join me.” He hesitates, “Please.”
Looks like plans of toning down his ‘flirts’ were thrown in the bin already.
You simply throw your head back, groaning— “Get off your ass and swim, then. I’ll come.” You nod, pinching the bridge of your nose. You couldn’t be that mad about it, though. You two were sent here just to stop quarrelling all the time.
He smiles, those soft eyes lighting up at your acceptance— even if out of annoyance. “Kay,” He stands up from the couch, jogging up to the window and slid it open, hopping outside through it as his feet touched the ground—Feeling the salty breeze immediately hit him, the heat of the sun felt on his skin.
“Oh my fucking god,” You whisper scream to yourself, burying your face into your hands. He ignored the door right next to the window.
- - -
Seagulls flying across the candlelit sky, black silhouette of moving boats and jet skis on the horizon. The bright orange sunlight hitting your skin— the sound of foot steps crunching on the sand as you two reached the shallow waters of the sea. Submerged in water till your knees.
He gasps at the sight of a tiny little orange blob stuck in the sand, “What the..” he carefully scoops it out of the sand, the orange blob laying on his flat palm.
You tilt your head, “..And that’s?” You trailed off, curious.
“A baby octopus!” He giggles, shifting closer to you. Then he realised it was you he was talking to, and immediately backed away—narrowing his eyes at you.
“That’s right,” You hum, wiping the sweat off your forehead from the sun’s heat torturing everyone on sight. “Keep that thing away from me. Disgusting.”
“It’s just a baby!” He exclaimed, sighing out of exhaustion before setting the orange blob off, away onto the waters—shaking his head. “This is why we can’t get along. I mean, you’re a screeching flying maniac— and I’m a relaxed guy who cares about his ocean friends!”
“Acting like Homelander isn’t a screeching flying maniac too? Pffft, you really love choking on his dick.”
You cackled, slapping his shoulder as he nearly jumped out of the water from the force. Man, fuck you and your super-shit strength, he thought.
“Yeah, but he favours me and.. well,” He trails off, shrugging. “I can’t pretend that he does the same for you.” He crouched down to settle down in the low clear waters.
“You’re delusional,” You rub your temples, looking at the pouting man below you. “I.. uh, suppose he’s bitter about the fact that he isn’t the only man in the sky anymore,” You observed— deciding to sit down next to him, crossing your legs as you grab a shell from underwater and fiddle with it.
He pauses, scratching his chin for a second—before immediately nodding. Though, he did not say anything, incase Homelander heard him shit talk. But we all know that he does not care enough about Kevin to be this extreme.
Silence grows between you two, gazing at the sun standing high above all. It wasn’t sunset yet, and you two could spend all the time here you wanted. Whether you and him calm down and have a civil conversation, or it be a screaming match.
But the rivalry was fun, friendly or not.
The salty breeze hits your face like a slap— the seashell nearly falling from your hands, before you closed your fingers around it tightly. “Hey, were we talking about fish, weren’t we?”
He turns his gaze from the sky to you, “Octopuses are actually mollusks, but.. yeah?”
“Yeah yeah, whatever—May I kindly ask,” You pause, “What on god’s green Earth was going on with the animals in the Cambrian period?”
“Stop being mean, they were trying shit out!” He covered his mouth, trying to stop a laugh from the mean comment. You smile wryly, resting your chin in your palm.
“How do you even know that? I mean, no one around here… in The Seven really care about fish. Especially you of all people.” He pondered, fingers playing with the water boredly.
“Birds eat fish,” You simply state, “And I need to know what kind of bullshit I’m eating.” You fidgeted with the cone shaped seashell before dipping it into the water to wash off the stuck sand.
“Uh, fishes from the Cambrian period don’t exist today—but sure. Nothing makes sense when I’m talking to you.” He shakes his head, “You don’t even know what baby octopuses look like.”
“I’m not a fuckin’ marine biologist, sorry.” You tiredly retorted, staring at the cone seashell in your hands. “This,” you held the greyish-blue shell between the pad of your thumb and your index finger, “Kinda looks like your eyes.”
“Mhm,” He hums, pretty eyes glancing at the shell before gazing away—down somewhere stupid like.. sand. Fuck, he was so cute. Why did he have to be such a pathetic loser?
“I’ll keep it—“
“Don’t!”
You pinch the bridge of your nose, narrowing your eyes at him. “And why the shit not?”
“Because—because hermit crabs really need those types of shells!” He tried to reason, though it’d be hopeless trying to make you care about some menial fish. “They’ll die if they don’t.”
“Oh, fuck off. I’m just this close to respecting you, and now you have to be petty about wanting to keep a shell for my memory sakes?” You barked, shaking your head. Standing up from the water, slipping the blue shell into the pockets of your shorts.
He stammers, “You’re leaving already?” Sad eyes look up at you, brows furrowed.
“Yeah, I need a break from you. And a shower too.” You turn from him, walking away from the shore as footprints were left in the sand back to the beach house.
He looked over his shoulder, before exhaling deeply and buried his sweaty face into his gloved hands. He really wanted to say ‘Without me?’ in response to the shower comment, but you would’ve done something worse than choking him. Maybe he wanted worse.
But the worst thing he’s heard from you, is you being ‘this close to respecting him.’ Yeah, no one in or out of Vought respected him— he was just the diversity hire fish guy. After killing a few humans who laughed at him here and there, sure, people sort of stopped being so vocal about it… but he could still feel their annoyance and utter lack of care for him. He couldn’t handle that, being treated like a joke.
That all changed when you joined The Seven. He respected you, shockingly. Yes, you treat him like a punching bag, but for once in his ‘awful’ life, he had someone else to focus on other than himself. He could finally stop pitying himself for mistakes and crimes he’s done to other people—all he thinks about is you. He can’t stop thinking about you, even prior the choking incident—he can’t stop thinking about hurting you, about crushing your face to the back of your skull, about licking your blood off his hands, about your hands around his neck, about having your nails scratching against his back as your legs were wrapped around his waist—
He shakes his head, his fingers curling into his hair. “No, no no no—“ he utters to himself, glancing at the reflection of himself in the water. “What the fuck am I...” He groaned.
He should not think about that. You just said that you were almost going to respect him! That should piss him off, not make him want to prove you right!
He looks up at the sky, dark hues of orange and purple mixing together like water colours. Looks like It’s finally sunset.
He crosses his arms against his chest, still sitting in the same exact spot— and tries to listen to the rhythmic crashes of the waves, the seagulls screeching like usual, instead of.. whatever the hell his brain is doing. He didn’t want to be in the house the same time as you.
- - -
You step out of the shower and into the awfully sea themed bedroom—shutting the door behind you. Pulling your white robe on—tying the ribbons together loosely. You slid on the sandals as you walked up to the bed, which had your towel lazily thrown over it.
As you wiped the excess water off your face, you look out the window—seeing Kevin still out there. Sitting on the sand, probably looking into the reflection of himself into the water like the self obsessed bastard he is. Maybe he’s thinking about something, and you really wondered what fish-brains was in deep thought about to sit outside in the hot summer evening heat for thirty minutes.
Or an hour. Who knows, you weren’t keeping in check with the time.
You slide open the window, hopping through it as your feet touched the sandy grounds. You feel the salty breeze immediately hit you, the heat of the sun felt on your skin. God, the weather really sucked—already feeling yourself melting.
Golden sand stretching along the coastline, waves crashing against the shore. The crimson shimmer reflected across the dark waters, the red sun shining with a blueish-pink backdrop. It was late.
Kevin, who was uncharacteristically idle, was starting at the sun. It had to remind him of the dots poked into his neck—fuck, why did everything have to remind him of you?
He shook his head, resting his chin on his knees as he simply closed his eyes to just… ignore everything for a moment. Ignore you, and this horrible but addicting bond.
“Deep?” You call out, him immediately turning his head to look at you.
“Uh— umm, yeah?”
“You’ve been sitting here for an hour. What’s wrong with you?” You roll your eyes, sand crunching as you walk up to the man. “Not even swimming or anything—just on your ass like usual.”
“Wow. You’re shocked that the Lord Of The Seven Seas is relaxing at the beach?” He glares at you, crossing his arms as eyes glance back at the red sun slowly being enveloped by the indigo sea. “And I’m not in the mood to be around you. I don’t wanna spend fucking years here with the person I don’t like.” He lied to himself, but also said the truth. His feelings were complicated, you and him together were complicated!
“Weeks, idiot. And don’t call yourself that, it sounds embarrassing.” You correct him, huffing as you also sit down next to him on the sand—with a bit of distance between you two. He scoffs, “Feels like years with you.”
He side eyes you, though his eyes travel down to where your robe reveals just enough of your shoulder. At this point, he was slowly starting to not care about how strangely attracted he was to someone that he abuses and is abused by daily.
You roll your eyes again, sitting back and exhaled deeply. “I should’ve killed you a long time ago,” you coldly stated.
His eyes widen, head snapping towards you. “The fuck’s wrong with you?”
“But now it’s too late.”
“Huh?”
You hum, brows furrowing. “The.. way you’ve been acting around me recently. Almost never looking me in the eye. Not calling me names like you used to. Being slightly kinder than usual. Like you’re walking on eggshells.”
He shrugs, sarcastically saying. “Maybe it’s because you tried to choke me to death?” And he also liked it.
“We tried to kill each-other multiple times before that.”
The entire time you were trying to confront him, it was just skirting around the fact that he loudly yelled that he wanted you to rail him. You never mentioned it—he never mentioned it. Maybe you two wanted to do more than punching each other’s guts out, but god is it not taking years to just admit that?
“Deep, just…” You mumbled to yourself, “Tell me the truth, why you’re acting like—“ You gestured to him entirely, “—this towards me!”
He leans closer, narrowing his eyes. “Back off.”
“You’re the one leaning closer!” You point a finger at him.
He suddenly places both of his gloved hands on your bare shoulders, shaking you. “I don’t even want you, not as much as you think I fucking do!” He lies.
“Then tell me, what you feel! I am sick and tired of assuming all your bloody thoughts—“
“I can’t stop, can’t stop thinking of you. I need you on me. Just… your hands on me, holding my neck like you hate me.”
You roughly exhale, eyes slightly widening as you shift your gaze from his shy face to the rolling waves of the ocean.
“I’m.. I’m sorry, okay? You deserve better than me. Someone that loves you. We’re not supposed to do more than just… cause headaches for everyone in Vought, but I can’t fuckin’ help it.” He stammered, fingers digging into your skin. He never apologizes, and he feels so helpless—but maybe he liked feeling helpless around you. “I can’t stop thinking of you— of it. I need too much from you, and I want you under me goddamnit!”
You gasp, eyes going back to his face—him breathing deeply as though he was drowning in his need for you. Resting your hand atop of his, shifting closer to him. “As much you’re like the dirt under my nails,” He raises a brow. You smile wryly, “At least you’re.. useful for something.”
Just like that, his restraint shattered into pieces. You won’t walk for a week. Hell, maybe he won’t walk for a week too.
He groans, suddenly pushing you down to the sand and untying the ribbons holding your robe together. “You’re wearing nothing under this?” He whispers dumbly, shivering under the touch of your naked legs wrapped around his waist. He was so pathetic for you.
“How else am I supposed to wear them, dickhead—“
He silences you with his lips to yours, and you curl your fingers into his brunette hair—his lips so familiar it made you want to scream. You moan into his mouth—tongue sliding over his, while he grinds his hips into the warm space between your thighs because of his fucked up need for you.
“Yeah,” He sighs, slightly pulling away. “Look at you, acting like a whor-“
And the next thing he feels is teeth biting his bottom lip so hard it bleeds. “Shit— oh jeez,“ He shouts painfully, gloved fingers brushing the blood off his busted lips. “What’s next, you’re gonna stab me while we fuck too!?”
You grunt, fingers leaving his hair and trailing onto his arms—pushing his hand out of his face, and steering them down to his belt that was surprisingly, not unbuckled. “Maybe, if you don’t shut up,” You murmur, undoing the gold belt impatiently. You had to remind him who’s in charge here, and it definitely wasn’t him. But god, feeling your arousal spike up seeing him on top of you felt so wrong but so right.
Your eyes widen seeing his hardened cock spring out—already leaking, and you start to realize why he has an ego the size of his dick. Who wouldn’t?
He smirks, his tone smug as his voice brushes against your ear. “Gonna stare at it all day or what?”
Your eyes shift back to the sky, your face warming up. “Just—just shove it in already!” You wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders, burying your face into his neck. Fuck, he wasn’t supposed to make you feel like this—feel flustered!
He shrugs, grabbing your thighs—spreading them wider, whimpering pathetically as his tip slips into you. You grit your teeth, raising an eyebrow at the utter noises coming from him. “Are you always this loud?”
“No— not… not always,” He stutters, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. Fingers digging into the sand, as he roughly sinks into your warm wet walls—letting out another whiny moan right into your ear. Like he was the one getting fucked instead of you. His voice almost made you explode.
You arch your back, shivering, feeling him throbbing in you, hands splayed against his neck as you rest your forehead against his—eyes closed like you two were lovers and not enemies.
“God, you feel so good,” he praises, your hands travelling to the back of his neck. “Yeah? Then shut the fuck up and start movin—“
He interrupts you with a sharp slam of his hips, rutting against you desperately while you cried out in pleasure with your eyes flicking open. Hands clinging to his neck and shoulders for dear life.
You couldn’t even think—process that the man you hated the most was inside you, just stupidly staring at it slide in and out with a squelchy sound each time.
Your fingers go up to yank his hair and bring his face closer to yours, “You… fuckin’ devil,” and he was about to whine again—but your lips swallowed his noises of desire, licking and kissing the crimson off as blood dripped down his chin. His fingers trace your jaw, nooses smooshed against each other, hips still drilling into you like a machine.
As you two pull away from the rather bloody kiss, a red string of saliva connecting you and him—he pauses his mindless thrusting. Exhausted sighs left his red, messy, kissed and flushed lips. His felt his lower lip burn and sting, but every single wound he took from you felt worth it, and so did this one.
He glances at you under him, panting deeply but licking his crimson off your lips—ankles lazily crossed over his back.
“Tired? Already?” He quickly started pounding into you again, wanting to see desire and want cloud your eyes and make you go blind for him.
Every time his cock hammered into you, skin slapping against skin, extracted a carnal cry from you—practically fucking your ego out of you. And Kevin liked that, how good he made you feel. How loudly he made you moan. How your legs locked around his lower back even harder.
“Fuck, you’re so deep…“
You moan his name over and over again, brows knitting together—eyes widening when he slams into that one sweet spot and clench around him. Your fingers curling against his back with sharp nails digging through the green shirt and scratching his skin once again—leaving him gasping.
He leans to your un-touched neck, kissing down from your pulse point up until your jawline.
“Your neck—” He lightly nips at the red smeared skin, “It’s.. five kisses long,” You let out a whine, trying to hold yourself together so you don’t just… combust all over him. Why is he saying the cutest bullshit ever, while balls deep in you?
Since you thought he overtook you long enough, your fingers latch onto his shoulders—completely flipping him over, underneath you, back to the sand while you now straddled his cock. He pouts, bucking his hips into you. “No, please,” he pleads, gloved hands climbing underneath your robe and groping at your waist desperately. Yeah, you just blue-balled him, and that pissed him off—but he was too horny to even think about being mildly annoyed at you.
“Oh god, please, I’m so close—“
“Not yet.”
Shushing him, you shrug your robe off your shoulders and slowly move down him—but not fast enough to get him off. He kept letting out cries and moans, whining about how you should go faster, fingers digging into your hips so hard it leaves marks and dents, and kept looking at you with those poor little eyes.
“Please please please please please please—“ He begged as he threw his head back, eyes becoming teary from both pleasure and frustration.
Rolling your eyes, you slide his glove off his hand and yank his hair—pulling forward and stuffing the glove into his mouth as a makeshift gag. He still let out a shameless, loud cry, though muffled.
“Can’t be quiet, huh? Fucking brat,” You pant as you slam down against his cock, and he bucks into you even harder, your knees shaking.
“You—you really wanted me to fuck you this badly?” You tease, fingers grasping his chin, and that question leaves him nodding his head. Yes, he wanted you to sleep with him. But he was becoming greedy, and he’s not sure if you’re wanting to like him.. love him, even.
Of course you’d never like him, but at least he had a pretty face and pretty eyes that’d roll back and pretty moans and a pretty neck that you could wrap your hands around. The pad of your thumbs brush against tiny dried circles of red on the skin, him shuddering at your touch.
“You’re so easy to please,” you breathlessly say, his fingers capturing yours and intertwining them together while his other hand was busy digging bruises and marks into the fat of your waist.
Needless to say, he was getting close—by the way his pupils were blown, every whine even escaping through the glove, hips bucking every time you bounced up and down on his dick—ass slapping against his thighs. Your hips stutter, you were close too.
Hands leaving his neck, you pluck the glove out of his mouth, eager to hear how loud he gets when nearing his climax. Mouth gaping—groaning loudly, “Oh, fuck—you’re so amazing,” he mewls, fluttering eyes watching you ride him with a quickened pace. “Mmm… I—I think I’m—“
“I said, not yet.”
Interrupting him by sliding your thumb into his mouth, him sucking on it like it was a lollipop. He was sucking it way too well, actually… maybe Cassandra was right… whatever, you didn’t care at the moment.
“Huh… guess I should’ve fucked your mouth first,” you tirelessly huff out, chasing your high with your other hand grasping his shoulders—wet walls clenching around his twitching cock, his eyes rolling back and closing them shut.
Tutting, you slam your hips down harder, his eyes fluttering open as he let out a mewl—wet thumb leaving his mouth with a pop as you grab his chin and pull him forward. “Don’t close those pretty eyes,” you lean in and rest your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent, muttering into his skin as you pump yourself onto him.
“Wanna look at ‘em before I—“ Your release tears through your body, interrupting your words with a heaving, deep gasp—biting into the already marked skin of him, just to have ahold of something, someone—leaving him whimpering. His eyes glaze over your panting, shaky figure atop his, arms hugging your waist snuggly.
God, to see you like this—the hands that tried to choke him now gently laying on his shoulders, that mouth that always spouted insults at him now softly biting and kissing his neck, those legs that’ve kicked him in the back of his knees now intertwined with his, just to see you relax on top of him. It was a nice break from all the biting, scratching and man-handling.
His voice, shakily asks, “Can… can I—“
“Mmhm,” You hum softly into his neck, approving.
He pants as his hips thrusted into you—head tilting back into the sand, exposing his marked and scarred neck further.
“Marks,” he demands, “leave marks.”
Not like anyone else would see them anyway.
You smile against his neck, kissing his pulse point before your teeth clenched his flushed skin once again.
That’s it, that’s all it took for when he finally carves his hips into yours—nails now scratching your back, moans of praise now being carried along in the salty winds forever, feeling him hit that sweet spot and spill into you, fill you whole like no one has—dick twitching and sopping with cum, heat prickling at your stomach.
He closes his eyes, breathlessly muttering, “My god,” he felt your teeth graze his pulse, lifting his head back up to look back at you. Lips and teeth leaving his ravaged neck, you get the energy to sit up straight—still inside him, connected to him. Right as you were about to lift your hips up, his hands slid down to your hips—slamming you down onto his dick.
“What the—“
“Please,” He pleads, “Just—just stay with me. I.. wanna savor this.” He whispers. “Even if you hate me in the morning, I want this to last.”
You huff, placing your hands onto his sweaty shoulders. “And why would a horndog like you want this to last, huh?”
You lied, raising an eyebrow at the overly clingy behavior. You knew why he was like this with you. He was exactly like this with Sage, and whoever else gave him enough attention for him to get off to. Even if most of the attention you gave him was nothing but pain, blood, and tears, he would eat it up like a starving dog.
He didn’t answer, and he didn’t want to. At this point, he didn’t care if you and him were enemies, or if this news spreads around Vought, or how it went from night to day, or how sunny it is, or how the glare is hurting his eyes, all he wanted was for you to—
“Kiss me.”
He says, as though it was his first time kissing you.
You roll your eyes, leaning in closer anyways, “Gonna boss me around now?”
“No, I just want you to—”
your fingers grab the back of his neck and pulling him into the deep kiss, arms now wrapped around his neck—hands hugging your waist nicely. He giggles in between the kisses, “God, you’re kinda fun to kiss,” You slightly pull away from his lips, a string of saliva connecting your lips together.
“I f ucking bit you, and you’re calling that ‘kinda fun’?”
He chuckles against your lips, resting his forehead against yours.
“Well.. I guess you were keeping me on edge?”
“…Fuck you.”
“You already did.”
thank you so much for reading!!! reblogs and comments are very appreciated <33
i wanna write something abt kai with a huuuuuge size kink… 😋😋 (got a bit carried away) (18+!!!)
propped up above him, your hands push onto his broad chest. all of your weight upon him. the cool whirl of the wind around your body does nothing to help soothe the burning sensation all over you. and definitely not your warm, pooling heat.
a sigh escaped from his throat, chest heaving as he struggled to stay focused. he wanted to grab you, shove his large length into you and feel the warmth of your heat - the way it would struggle to fit him and squeeze around his much too large cock.
just the thought of it made him shiver, hairs at the back of his neck standing unwillingly as he breathed in once again. but no matter how badly he craved it, how much his muscles tensed and his mind boggled, he forced himself not to.
he wouldn’t do something he knew would hurt you.
looking up at you through half lidded, tired eyes, he saw your body struggling to position itself onto his length. his arms raised from the white sheets, ripping against lightweight air as his hands reached for your hips, guiding your body towards the tip of his cock.
your feet shifted against the bedsheets, swallowing as you felt the tip of him against your cunt. you could already feel how big he was, throbbing tip nestling into soaked lips. he too swallowed, forcing his eyelids to slide over glass orbs, darkness surrounding him before he slowly opened them once again.
his vision was cloudy, seeing you blink once, then twice, clearly battling with the thoughts of wether to try to sink onto him or to just chicken out. your honey-like essence dripping onto his length as your heat throbbed against his.
you wanted him so badly, craving the well dreamt of feeling of his thick cock splitting you open, cunt struggling to stretch any further as he slowly pushed into your soaked hole. wishing to be filled with his length, to be content with his body flush against yours, you slowly adjusted your hands on his chest and took a breath.
your eyes shut, eyebrows furrowing soon after as you bent your knees slightly, sinking down onto his cock. his tip stretched the edges of your cunt, fervidly pushing into your warmth. his tip was red and leaking pearlescent globs of smooth pre-cum, desperately wanting to be engulfed in your pretty pussy.
your soft lips spread open as a nearly silent gasp slips from your throat, eyebrows furrowing upwards as you felt the first inch of him slip inside. huening breathlessly stared at the way your tiny pussy struggled to take just his tip, the pulsing red head disappearing into you. a blink after the other were the only things distracting him from the pulse of your pretty cunt, squeezing around him as your knees bent further.
though your walls stretched to fit his thick size, they squeezed against him as he slid deeper into you. your eyes opened slowly, mouth still agape as you glanced toward huening. he didn’t look at you, focusing on the way your sweet elixir noisily spurted out of your tight pussy as his cock took up all the space.
a light groan fell from his throat as the small gap between his plump and swollen kissed lips was filled with a quick wet with the use of his tongue. soon enough, with the help of kai’s large hands gripping your hips and sliding you down his mind boggling length, your were around halfway down his thick cock.
“ngh— kai!” your high pitched mewl ripped through the mostly quiet air, followed by a broken whimper. “can’t-” your sopping pussy had sucked up as much of his cock as it could, his length stretching your already overstretched walls apart almost painfully.
with a grunt and a shut of his eyes, he pressed his fingers into your hips, a shaky breath slipping from his throat. the feeling of your cunt squeezing onto his thick cock was enough for him to cum, but he pushed your body down his length. a yelp echoed throughout the room as you felt an inch or two hurriedly slide into your wet cunt, your eyebrows furrowing as your felt his puffy tip press against your cervix.
Make me fall asleep with a vibrator inside me. Then in the middle of the night you can turn it onto its lowest setting and watch me shift and whine in my sleep, getting wetter and wetter. Or maybe it will wake me up and I'll be desperate and needy before I can even form a sentence. But that's okay, cause you're already positioning yourself at my entrance. You can tell just how much I need u before I even realize it.
summary : once you come into possession of an old polaroid camera, it’s only right to make good use of it - forcing your boyfriend to be your model!
warnings : fluff, body worship, biting, lazy-sweetly-pervy make out session.
word count : 1,5k.
notes : i was listening to 80s love songs while writing this and i genuinely reached flow state.
Going on supply runs to Mount Weather made you realize one thing - you were one hell of a vintage enthusiast. You found the oldies fascinating, from faded books and paintings to any kind of antiques and gadgets. So the day you got your hands on a box with a polaroid camera inside, you instantly knew it would become your favorite item in the small collection.
“I don’t wanna screw it up.” You mumbled as you made your way over to Bellamy, clutching film packs in your left hand and the camera in your right. You were truly excited about this, grinning from ear to ear like an eager kid. Although being aware of your tendency of being too hot headed for your own good, you grew to not really trust yourself with things that needed delicacy or thoughtfulness. Especially when you had little idea about them. Such as in this case.
“C’mon you won’t! It can’t be rocket science, yeah? C’mere.” Bellamy reassured you with a chuckle, finding you absolutely adorable right now. You turned on the nightstand lamp that cast a warm, yellow glow over the room and hopped on the bed right in front of him, your legs touching.
“Alright, so…” He murmured as you handed him the items that needed figuring out. “Pretty sure the dark slide has to be facing outward.” Your eyes followed his long fingers that pressed the film door latch and inserted the said packet, and then clicked it back into place.
“That’s it?” You asked, barely containing your impatience.
“Looks like it.” He tilted his head up with a smile and returned the polaroid back into your hold. “Knock yourself out.”
Your back straightened as you brought the lens to your eye, assessing the frame, watching how differently lit places of your apartment looked in it. A warm chuckle came from behind you at the sight. “Wait until daylight, the lighting’s just shitty here.” He was convinced that you’d anticipate some nice shots in the woods or something like that. Your mind on the other hand, was wandering in a completely different route.
You turned in his direction, not really listening to his words, too focused on the sight in the viewfinder. Oblivious to being in the center of the frame, Bellamy leaned over to grab a book from the nightstand. The muscles of his bare, freckled back tensed, the covers sliding off his lower stomach. Too pretty not to capture. “Put that damn book down.” The moment his eyes landed on you again, you pressed the shutter, the flash hitting his confused face. You lowered the polaroid, bursting into laughter.
“Couldn’t bother to warn me?” He scoffed, blinking repeatedly.
“Sorry. Needed to immortalize your dumbfounded face.” You replied and put the ejected photo away for the colors to develop.
“Baby, you’re wasting the packs on me. Save ‘em.” He squeezed your thigh as he spoke right before lowering his body down on the mattress with a heavy sigh.
“Shhh...” You smirked and without hesitation crawled up his body, straddling his hips, clumsily wriggling the camera in your raised hand. He immediately reached out to assist you, used to your restless moves. Looking up to you with his dilated brown pupils like a damn puppy. “Stay still.” You murmured. He knew he had to give in now. You felt his chest rumble with laughter underneath you.
“‘Kay. Should I do somethin’ specific? Smile?” He grinned playfully, showing off his teeth and earning a scoff from you.
“Freedom of choice.” You gazed back into the lens, still feeling his hands endlessly kneading on your things. He stopped grinning like an idiot now but the honest smile lines wouldn’t come off his face.
You saw right through him. You noticed how he felt receiving that amount of affection a while ago. And gosh - to say you loved it would be an understatement. You relished in the way his freckled cheeks heated up just a bit, how he’d always try to dismiss how much he enjoyed having you pay attention to him in such a way. Feeling almost foolish to be facing admiration so openly.
“So handsome...” You couldn’t resist the urge to hum the words out loud while your fingers stroked his curls, messy and still damp from the shower.
“Just take the damn photo.” He murmured with a sheepish smirk and pinched your sides to stop you from giving him that torturously disarming look.
“What? Embarrassed much?” The sweet words rolling off your tongue got him good, alongside the way your head gently tilted to the side.
“Remind me again, when did I consent to this?” Well, a sudden, deep kiss planted on his lips turned out to be a fairly satisfying answer. His hands cradled you forcefully, bringing you closer by your backside. Your body practically melted into his, getting warmer with every brush of his heated skin against your own. “Mkay, I think I remember now.”
He barely got to finish the sentence before you rubbed the entirety of your body weight on him and brought him in by the neck to revive the wet kiss you still needed from him. Feeling his bare leg curl up against your own, his fist tugging at your hair… it all made your head spin in ecstasy. Your palms travelled to feel the familiar skin. Not really realizing when the polaroid left your grasp. Your fingers traced the movement of his Adam’s apple. Then they made their way up to feel his sharp jaw that worked so eagerly to satisfy you with the ongoing slow kiss. You were simply drunk on the sight of your pretty, hardworking boy underneath you.
Bellamy’s hands seemed to want to touch you everywhere at once. That’s why the moment they moved to grasp your leg that curled around his waist, they met the plastic of the polaroid that you abandoned somewhere in the sheets. “Baby, watch the camera.” He chuckled and reached out for it with you still in his lap. “Oops.” Your whisper was quickly followed by a pleased groan, dragged from his throat once your teeth clutched his lower lip. His grasp on you tightened at sensation so delectable and provocative.
“You know what shot could be real nice?” He sighed pulling your face just a tiny bit away, stroking your hair back in the process. “One with some marks from your pretty mouth on my neck. Or anywhere you’d like. That work for you, sweetheart?”
“I do see the vision.” You replied with your stomach already twisting in excitement.
“Good. We workin’ real good on this photography thing together.” Oh, you definitely agreed. Your response was immediate - your teeth sank deep between the freckles dusted over his skin. You got real comfortable sitting on his stomach, and in that position you began to taste - dragging your mouth from the hinge of his jaw, the spot that always made his head throw back. His neck, fully revealed and all yours to enjoy, looked so edible. With a satisfied sigh, your mouth wandered there, sucking as forcefully as it could. After all, the hickeys had to be visible and clear for the upcoming photography!
“Oh baby…you’re the sweetest.” The faint groans slipping through his parted lips only kept encouraging you. The wet sounds of your eager lips moved to his collarbone now. But that wasn’t enough either. His large arms were still untouched, and you couldn’t let that be. In awe, Bellamy watched your tongue carefully making its way to his bicep. Slowly, you inflicted the sweetest pain again. And again when you moved on to his other arm.
Your face then ducked down to his abs. The trail of nibbles was quickly but surely left there as well, making him hiss. He lazily brought his hand down to stroke your head when you licked over places where you almost drew blood. His stomach was so soft, so warm - you would be sick if you didn’t just nuzzle against it like a cat.
Once the amount of marks seemed like enough, you proudly pulled your head back up and admired your opus.
“You done, pretty?” He asked. His chest rose and fell, steady and deep. His gaze on you was worshipful.
“Mhm.” You nodded while your sore lips curled into a little smile. After a moment of quietly relishing the intimacy of the scene, you leaned over to finally grab the polaroid. When your body hovered over him, stretching to reach it, he steadied you by your hips and leaned in to press his lips against your torso.
You maneuvered yourself to get the best possible frame, wriggling on his lap. You smiled to yourself at the feeling of the bulge in his boxers, leaned back and stared into the viewfinder.
Bringing one hand up to his face, you tilted it to the side, showing off more hickeys. You let your fingers linger on his jaw, then let your thumb move closer to his mouth. Into his mouth.
Your chuckle merged with the sound of the click and the whirr of the photo sliding out. 
— CRUSHED in which you're crushed in the pit at eadeekid's show and he low-key saves you.
a/n: i don't even know too much about him but he's fine so i'm writing this lol. thank @romansbbg for this because she told me to write something for him.
before you ever stepped foot in the uk, before you learned scousers talk like they’re speedrunning the alphabet while mildly drunk, before you even knew what a “bally” was outside of maybe skiing… you knew him. not knew-knew: not the man behind the mask, not the real guy. you knew the voice. the sound. the roughness behind every verse. back home in america, his music hit you like nothing else — that rough, gravelly delivery, that accent you barely understood but adored anyway, those lyrics that felt like velvet scraped against steel. you found him one night during a 3am spiral, clicked a random track because the thumbnail looked mysterious and slightly criminal (your red flag-coded type), and instantly fell down the hole.
by sunrise, you were gone. fully. no take-backs.
your friends teased the absolute shit out of you.
“girl, you can’t even understand half the slang,”
“are you in love with a balaclava?? be serious.”
but you didn’t care.
there was something in him that felt… familiar. not literally — you didn’t personally know any masked rappers — but familiar in shape. familiar in loneliness. his sounded like yours. like puzzle pieces from different universes that still somehow clicked. so when he announced uk tour dates? you booked a flight. alone. no itinerary. no logic. you just wanted to be in a room where his voice echoed off actual walls instead of earbuds. you definitely didn’t expect him to notice you. much less whatever the fuck ended up happening.
the night of the show.
the second you walked into the venue, you realized two things:
1. british crowds do not mess around.
2. you were hilariously unprepared.
you dressed cute — tiny black top, sparkly lip gloss, hair soft and wavy, skin smelling like vanilla perfume that cost half your paycheck. perfect.
until the lights cut out. the bass dropped. the crowd moved like a single demon. you were immediately clinging to life. a shove from behind nearly sent you flying; someone’s hand grabbed at your arm to steady himself but you shrugged him off.
“holy shit—” you gasped, gripping the barrier like it was a lifeline.
you could barely breathe — adrenaline mixing with excitement with full-body panic. and then he came out. esdeekid. the whole room shifted. mask gleaming, chain catching the strobes, voice slicing through the speakers like something sinful, magnetic. you forgot your own name for a second.
he moved like he owned the floorboards and everyone on them. and you were right there, tiny, overwhelmed, feeling everything at once. then the pit surged again. hard. someone bumped into your side; your foot slipped; your chest squeezed tight as panic rushed up your spine. oh my god i am literally going to die at a concert in a foreign country. they’re gonna write “cause of death: trampled” i’m going out like an idiot. no fucking way.
you tried to push back, but the crowd swallowed you, bodies caving you in on all sides. your vision blurred. your heartbeat spiked. you couldn’t get proper air. then — like the universe decided to give you one single break — everything changed. because suddenly there was space. room to breathe. a protective bubble around you. you turned slightly and realized a massive bodyguard had stepped right behind you, blocking the crowd with the absolute casual authority of a man built like a refrigerator. you blinked, confused.
then followed his gaze… and your heart did something violent in your chest.
he wasn’t just there randomly.
he had been sent.
esdeekid — mid-verse, mask half-lit by strobing pink lights — was staring directly at you. not scanning the crowd. not glancing. staring. your lips parted before you could stop them. his head tilted the tiniest bit, like he was silently asking if you were okay, then he went back to performing like nothing happened.
but you felt it.
god, you felt it.
every few lines, he checked back — tiny glances, hidden by movement, but unmistakable.
your panic melted away. your muscles unclenched. something warm and stupidly fluttery bloomed right under your ribs. you held onto the barrier, grounding yourself, trying not to explode. because the whole time, one thought kept spiraling, louder and louder: he saw me. he fucking saw me.
and even worse: he cared.
as the final song ended and the lights came up, you swore — swore — he glanced at you one last time before stepping offstage.
not at the group.
not at the rail.
at you.
like you mattered.
like he’d been keeping you in his periphery all night. you stood there still, half-floating, half-disbelieving, feeling something new and dangerous ignite in your chest. you came for a concert. you did not expect a masked rapper to worry about you. you definitely didn’t expect the way that made your whole body feel too warm, too alive, too aware.
but one thing was clear: whatever that moment was—it wasn’t nothing. he just had the basic human decency to worry about someone being crushed at his show. he's probably forget your name by tomorrow.
Tying his hands behind his back then challenging him to get himself off while I watch.
He’d quickly start humping the pillows on the bed. The side of his face pressed into the mattress, whining while he thrusts messy and desperate into the pillow. His eyes filling with tears and want while he looks at me begging for me to touch him, whimpering that it’s not enough. Deciding I’ll be nice and let him fuck my hand instead of the pillow. His pretty moans and thank yous while he frantically thrusts in my hand. And when he tells me he’s close I’d push him onto his back and start stroking him quickly with one hand while holding him down with the other. He’d squirm around and cum all over himself, but I’d keep going until he was a mess beneath me. Gasping for air, begging me to stop, and promising to be a good boy.
you care too much about yours and max's friendship to potentially ruin it by confessing your feelings for him. so, on a trip to california with the group, you distance yourself from him, unknowingly ruining it further in doing so. / based on this request /
— WARNINGS —
alludes to sex / swearing / VERY LONG SLOW BURN (like legit the longest thing i've written on here)
the long-awaited cali vlog fic...
── .✦
— # 𝑰𝑻 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑵𝑶 secret that out of all the boys in the friend group, you were the closest to max and he was the closest to you.
often you were teased about it, but no one could actually doubt it. it was impossible not to be when you'd known him since you practically came out of the womb. you'd been there since he had no subscribers and was just starting out his channel as his silly online persona. you'd been there since he first gained a hundred, then a thousand, and so on. you'd been there for his first girlfriend in the 8th grade and his first heartbreak, his braces phase and developer phase too. shit, you'd been there when max got pantsed for the first time in public by jacob.
you were inseparable. always had been, always would be, and as much as max loved cloak and plenty and all the other boys, his connection with you would always be stronger.
and so it was no surprise when, on the group's trip to california, the two of you ended up in a room together with two twin-sized beds and were made to share it.
this trip had been in the works since forever. though you were a youtuber just like the rest of them, you'd leave it up to the boys to vlog it and would more so be at the back of the picture instead of actually lugging around a camera all day everyday to catch clips. before all else, you wanted to enjoy this trip. especially with max.... often, your work kept the two of you apart and the fact that you were attending stanford that had you in the west-side of the U.S. all year-round. summer was the only 3 months you got to be home and enjoy yourself outside of your schoolwork.
summer was the only 3 months you got to be with max. and usually, you would be so happy to be with him, usually, you'd look forward to this. but...
max...
he was... well, he was...
knocking at the door? your head whipped to the entrance from your place on the floor, unpacking your suitcase and pulling from it your toiletries to set up in the bathroom. as knuckles hit wood you quickly called over your thoughts before you could think farther on that stupid situation with him. it was often that you thought far too long and far too much on silly topics when left alone with your own brain. "come in!"
max's fingers pushed the door ajar and he entered with a smile. your body tensed a bit when you saw it was him. "hi roommate." behind him was his suitcase. his eyes took a sweep across the room. in his black sweats and grey t-shirt, he looked about ready to fall asleep instead of facing the california-heat. "is this what the dorms are like in stanford?"
you smiled anxiously. "somewhat. you look like you'd fit right in."
max's eyes quirked into a laugh and he looked down at the outfit you were eyeing. "you sayin' i look like a frat boy?"
"red solo cup and all."
you best friend rolled his eyes, sending you that cute little mean mug you loved before lugging in his things. "didn't know my roommate would be such a pain."
it was usually so easy to joke around with max. as he brought his stuff in, you used it as an excuse to turn back to yours and laugh off the blush in your cheeks. god, one short conversation had you spiraling.
so, you thought about the trip instead as you wrestled clothes from your bag. the car ride was long but it seemed not such when you were in the passenger seat of his land rover blasting taylor swift and billy joel songs and singing along with him. you wanted to tell yourself it would be a good trip as long as he was there. you were close with the other boys, but you only actually knew them through max. still, you didn't dare look over at him even as he clambered around, solely focusing in on where to put your makeup bag for now.
"can't believe you're back for the summer," he broke the silence, humming over to you from where he was taking off his shoes by his bed. "i know i've already said that but i can't stop thinking about it."
"no, me too. feels like forever." you swallowed thickly, biting your tongue from harping out a little 'i missed you', staring down into your suitcase.
"it really has been. haven't seen you in months, since we last hung out at your college," max turned to you after he had nudged his shoes to the corner and watched you push yourself into a stand. "glad you're back."
"glad to be back," you smiled awkwardly. your hands ran down your jeans as you averted your attention to him, no longer with any excuses to keep you at your suitcase when it was empty.
you were about to say something along the lines of pushing the beds together like always when you gazed up at him and lost your words. max had to quit looking at you like that. with those big brown eyes, bright with happiness and warmth when staring into yours. he was just as handsome as he was last year. you hadn't allowed yourself much room for thought on that in the car with all the other boys, but now that you were face to face with him, one on one... fuck... it made your stomach churn, it made you sweat profusely. made you feel like you were falling midair... a hand fell to the nape of his neck and his eyes shifted a little bashful—nervous.
"i didn't really have a chance in the car but— i was gonna say, y/n, i really missed y—"
"you gonna record?" you cut him off quickly, heart somewhere plunged at your feet. if he finished that sentence god knows how you would've responded. he couldn't just say that to you.
max stared a little dumbfounded at you, his mouth still open but his eyes more disappointed than before. "oh, yea—" he replied, his expression visibly slacking upset. "i have my— camera— somewhere here..." aimlessly, max looked around the room, his suitcase, the bedside table, his... pockets? in search of the missing item. "i think i left it in the car."
"you can go get that— i promised i'd help plenty unpack anyways," you choked out, and only when max agreed awkwardly and pushed his way out of the room, could you sit down and relax a bit.
your bottom lip rolled between your teeth as you took a seat atop the bed. you couldn't talk sentimentally about the past or the future or being excited to see each other again with max any longer. sure, maybe you could laugh about fraternities and red solo cups, but not that. not anymore.
it didn't mean anything, though. you and him were the closest friends could be. no closer. but close. really... close...
okay, so.... maybe you were in love with him. was it a big deal? no. yes... it was a big deal because around him you weren't y/n anymore. you were just a girl crushing on a famous youtuber. the boy you used to be comfortable changing around you now had trouble looking in the eye. you didn't know where it started, maybe last summer when he picked you up and spun you around when you first saw each other in a while or that one phone call late at night when he told you he liked your voice... did it matter? you did know you wanted it to end. needed it to end. that was all that you truly cared for.
and, to be fair, it wasn't the first time things got a bit awkward between you two.
it actually started sometime when he'd come to visit you down at your college. you believed that was when you truly began liking him. you showed him the good ice cream places and sat with him on the lawn nearing midnight, and when you looked at him, you noticed things you had never before.
no, in all your eighteen years of knowing him, it was only then that you saw that flicker of green in his brown eyes, or the way his nose dipped when he talked, or the way not only did his cheeks turn red when he blushed, but the tips of his ears too.
and ever since then, you'd barely called, hung out, or joked with him in fear you'd notice it again.
and well, max... if things continued like this, max would find out. soon, he'd figure it out. and it would ruin everything you had between the two of you. it already actively was. for fuck's sake, you didn't even have plans to help plenty unpack, but you needed yourself out of that sticky situation and someplace else entirely and so you lied to him!
you loved max. you loved him so much that you wouldn't risk losing your friendship over it. and god, were you excited to see him again and spend a week with him. and god, were you happy to hear his voice and laugh at his jokes. but then he looked you too long in the eye or smiled a tad too familiarly or his hand lingered over yours when you went to turn up the volume in the car for a moment too long, and you were back to base one of being up and running 24/7 from your very obvious feelings.
you were back at base one of looking at him and being quite surprised to find a stupidly handsome face looking back.
yea, you really needed to take a breather. it was almost laughable at that point.
what went over your radar was one thing. so busy were you hiding your own feelings, you failed to notice max's.
for all your many differences, you and him had one main common ground: your love for the friendship between the two of you. such an innate love that nothing could get in its way if either could help it.
and for the both of you, that meant hiding how you truly felt.
it was already so late when the group arrived at the airbnb that the plans started the day after. you figured you'd shower in the morning and climbed into bed after everything was set out, pulling the sheets over your body and listening for max's return. everyone was exhausted so none of the boys in the other rooms were wrestling or arguing or yelling like usual, most were just sleeping.
max was away for a very long time considering he was just retrieving his camera from the car. either that, or your exhaustion warped it and made it seem worse that it was. finally, you could make out faint voices, serious but teasing—plenty's and max's—and footsteps outside your door before it cracked open and max entered. for whatever reason, you shut your eyes tight and pretended to already be asleep, though you could feel his gaze on you.
"y/n—?" he called over the silence. when you made no answer, he shut the door wordlessly behind himself and crossed the room, pulling the sheets off his bed, and climbing in. "goodnight."
—
you woke up to the sound of laughter and yelling voices outside your door, the house in a general raucous. groaning, you shifted onto your back and attempted at getting your bearings, squinting against the blare of the sun through the open curtains.
"morning, sleepyhead," max called over to you. half-surprised he was still in the room, you clambered to a sit and rubbed at your eyes.
"oh. max. hey," you muttered. "what time is it? and why is everyone up but me? that never happens."
max laughed, looking a bit antsy. "i know, unusual." he was grabbing his camera from where it sat charging on the nightstand, starting it up. "we're all going down to get bagels for breakfast. come with us."
bagels sounded really good right then. especially with the group. you were looking forward to the day, and you cast your eyes onto the floor, thinking. "i was gonna take a shower. am i not up too late?"
max looked away from the camera, watching you and pausing momentarily in fixing the lens to think on his words, "i'll make them wait. i want you to come."
oh.
you choked on your own spit and stared bewildered up at his bashful face before quickly climbing out of bed and turning away to hide your blush. "okay! i'll be quick!" without letting yourself think about how you said that a bit too eagerly and left a bit too rapidly you grabbed your shampoo and conditioner and beelined for the door without allowing him an answer.
for a moment after you shut the entrance and made your way down the hallway, still blushing and thinking back on his words, you forgot you were on a trip with other boys. they were someplace in the dining room, fighting over sunscreen, you thought, but plenty popped out from behind an unturned hallway, camera in hand. "look who's up!"
"geez, ethan! you scared me!" you squeaked, flinching away, staring down at the lens and then up at him again with a look of uncertainty.
chase called from the other room, "y/n!!!", and the other boys chimed in to give their greetings. "you're comin' to breakfast, right?"
"you know it."
they left you alone after that. as the only girl in the group, you got away with a lot of things, teasing included. especially since you only actually knew them through max and so were bound to be less comfortable around them.
"you drivin' with me and max?" plenty said, lowering his camera and scrolling through footage.
swallowing thickly, you bit the inside of your cheek and turned away, "sure. i'll be out in a moment."
—
ethan knew both you and max way too well not to be able to tell right off the bat that something was off. max was obviously trying to talk to you and it was definitely making you nervous.
"you fell asleep early last night," he tried over the table where you were practically shoving the bagel into your mouth, avoiding conversation. "i was pretty surprised."
"ye— yea," was your reply, muffled by the mass amount of food you were trying to chew. "it was— late— already..." max was sitting across from you and plenty was sitting between the two of you, watching as you both made awkward conversation and unfunny jokes.
"well shit..." he whispered quietly, not even bothering to record if the interactions were going to be this strange. last summer you were all over each other. now...?
luckily, you had the rest of the group to cheer things up. teasing chase was the group's favorite past time and noah could easily make a joke that would have everyone dying laughing in seconds. if not for them, ethan genuinely thought you would've gotten up and left the shop with the way max kept pressing conversation onto you. plenty could tell that the fact that any other boy's joke had you laughing and adding on after you'd practically just dissociated with max was really getting to him. he sat there without an appetite for his bagel, shifting uncomfortably, and not engaging at all. his eyes kept continually sliding to you, watching you, hurt. confused.
you were set to go straight to disneyland and spend the day there. as soon as everyone was in the car the group was on the road down, raucously laughing and yelling as usual. you were sat in the passenger seat as max drove, cackling at some of the jokes made but never daring to look at the one behind the wheel.
and as antsy as you were around him, you wouldn't be the party pooper of the group. no, you'd go and have a good day with your amazing group of friends and never once think on the subject at hand or have to spend too much time with him to be forced to.
well... at least until you were made to clamber into a two-person car for autopia with max and sit through an entire ride, one-on-one with him.
it was all going so unbelievably great. you didn't have to think about the impending doom you would inevitably cause on you and your best friend's relationship by loving him romantically when you were surrounded by absolute menaces and comedians of other friends. chase would be screaming and grasping onto you on even the kiddy rides and noah always had a good joke up his sleeve.
and then, as you left the group momentarily and were checking out for a bottle of water, a familiar face popped up beside you, smiling bashfully. "go on autopia with me?" max asked, and as you stared bewildered up at him, your eyes slid to where you could've sworn the group was, just to see them already advancing away upon ethan's command, who was herding them further like some shepherd to his sheep.
you had nowhere to run now. looking back up at max, into his hopeful, brown eyes shadowed against the blare of the sun at his back, you swallowed thickly and smiled forcefully, practically squeezing the bottle in your hands to oblivion. "duh..."
and that was how you ended up in a tiny faux car with the one person you really needed to be away from, but at the same time, wanted to be infinitely closer to. to say it was awkward was to say the absolute least.
you kept your eyes everywhere but him knowing simultaneously that his eyes were only on you, as if begging you to look at him. as the car rolled through the park, you kept yourself as far and still from him as possible. he couldn't help but notice it painfully.
"we never pushed the beds together last night," he hummed at some point, desperately trying to form some semblance of conversation.
you simply shrugged, body scrunched small as if to disappear. "you came back late."
that conversation ended there.
silence. then, near the middle of the ride, "when does your vacation end?"
"september."
"oh. we'll need to hang out alone by then. it's nice with a group, but i prefer this more."
oh my god.
"ye— a," you choked out, your voice cracking. he needed to shut up. stop talking. or either you'd climb your way out of that car or spill all the details of your little crush to him.
you refused to talk for the rest of the ride. and so it was silent. maybe he brought up the weather or the scenery once or twice, but you barely noticed, looking straight ahead.
as soon as the ride came to a stop, you clambered out and began desperately looking around the park for the group, squinting against the setting sun and not looking to see what max was doing. he joined your side.
"i don't see them. maybe we can continue by ourselves..."
"no!" you whipped your head to him quickly, blurting out the word. visibly, max flinched away at the sudden brutality with which you rejected his simple request to be closer to you. he looked heartbroken, like you were crushing his soul. "uh..." you relaxed, "i meant... it's already late. we should just meet up with them and see what they're planning."
"yea. okay." max cast his eyes on the floor and awkwardly rubbed at the nape of his neck as you pulled out your phone and called plenty, wandering ways away and talking over the plan. he simply watched, not wanting anymore to burden you with his attention if you really hated it as much as you were making it seem. he stared dejectedly at you, completely ready to go home too and never have to face the embarrassment and sadness he was at that moment.
when you came back, shoving your phone into your back pocket again, you told him the boys were going on one or a few more rides before leaving and that it was up to him what he wanted to do.
"mm. i'm just gonna go home. i'm tired."
"okay. i'm meeting up with them now but plenty's leaving too so you might wanna find him at the parking lot," you backed away leisurely, gripping the water bottle in your sweaty hands and visibly more relaxed the further you got. "bye, max."
—
"alright. what happened."
ethan threw open the door to the driver's seat and plopped in, shutting it behind him and looking expectantly at max who had been waiting for him inside. plenty looked ecstatic to have gotten you and max alone even for just a short ride, ready to hear all the amazing details at his fingertips. but his face immediately dropped when his friend looked up at him with a look of pure distress.
"oh."
"ethan, i don't know," max began, his voice laced with worry and his eyes fighting back tears. "i just— she just— i can't— it's like... she hates me or something. last year... last summer..." he looked down at his fidgety hands, his voice cracking. "everything was normal. we hadn't talked in a while while she was at college, and i was excited to bond again. now..."
ethan stared worriedly at max, not knowing whether to be shocked or disappointed. he was a mix of both, staring at his best friend, who he rarely saw even frown, now sitting there, fighting back tears. max never had to tell plenty about how much he loved you. it had always been unspoken knowledge. he knew max too well to let his feelings go under the radar, and so he'd always known exactly how badly and how long he had loved you. and it was bad. and it was long.
"shit..." he looked at the parking lot ahead, thinking. max shook his head, staring out the window and biting his cheek.
"i don't know what to do, ethan."
—
things continued like that for the rest of the week. no, moreover, they only got worse. max was giving up slowly but steadily. your relationship was cracking under the pressure of your awkward and solitary conduct. he couldn't bear it.
you would beeline out of any room max was in alone. you'd absolutely avoid any semblance of conversation, and only 3 times since that first day had you actually looked him directly in the eye. it was impossible to go unnoticed by anyone in the group. what had once been inseparability between the two of you lay nothing but absolute vacancy now, and everyone saw it. it was a topic not of discussion but silent acknowledgement.
on the last night, as you packed your bag to leave in the morning and the rest of the boys did their own thing, either asleep or in their rooms, you decided to take one last swim in the saltwater pool on the deck. you'd only used it once before but felt strangely like if you didn't go, you'd miss out on something big. max was in the bathroom getting ready for bed and you doubted he'd worry where you went with the way things were going for the two of you. and so you climbed into your bathing suit and slipped into the hallway wordlessly. the house was at rest but you could still hear voices. towel in hand, you crept to the back door in the kitchen and slid it open, stepping onto the concrete warmed by the summer air.
smiling to yourself, you crossed to where the water was, illuminated by the lights below and the blue color reflecting off the surface and tinging your face with azure. steam was rising in that pretty way it liked to do on warm nights. you dropped your towel by the edge and dipped your feet into the water before sliding into the deep end. you allowed the water to close over your head and sank below the surface, relishing in the warmth and staying there for a moment before coming back up for air.
cicadas chirped in the bushes and the night was slow and beautiful. you couldn't see the stars over the city lights but as you went to float on your back, you imagined they were floating planets in the sky, growing closer and closer. wanting nothing more than to relish this moment before you'd have to leave and climb into bed, you did aimless laps and thought. after this trip, it was extremely likely max and you would not talk until next year. you didn't know whether to feel relieved or upset about that fact. a whole year away from him would surely do well in easing away your feelings for him, and then, come next summer, things would go back to normal. but as your arms flowed with the water to push you from wall to wall of the pool, the night closing over your head, you couldn't help but wonder if that was what you actually wanted.
you must've stayed there for about 20 minutes, swimming back and forth, occasionally counting your laps. but even as you grew tired of the water and your fingers pruned and your eyes burned and you wanted a warm bed to lie in, you felt you couldn't leave. the night was keeping you there in waiting for something.
so, you pulled yourself over the edge and on the concrete, water splashing around you and your legs still dangling in the pool. now, you could catch a break but still enjoy the solitude of the night. you wrung out your hair and pushed it from your eyes, then letting your head fall back and your arms support your reclining body, soaking in the moonlight.
no, you couldn't leave just yet.
abruptly, squeaking sounded behind you. you angled your head to the back of you, met with the back door sliding open to let someone out. to let max out. your heart jolted. there he was, in a big t-shirt and pajama shorts, looking at you with big, antsy brown eyes and seeming almost hesitant to step outside.
"max...?" you voiced just loud enough for him to hear, sweating and nervous. he stepped out and crossed the concrete over to where you sat, something like anxiety in his step as he stopped beside you and sat.
"couldn't sleep?" he asked, letting his feet dangle like yours, his eyes on the water, his face bathed in blue light.
"i just thought i'd go for one last swim before we leave," you responded, an anxious tremor in your hand that you fought still by squeezing the edge of the pool. he was sitting almost shoulder-to-shoulder. "what about you? why are you awake?"
"oh," his eyes briefly met yours before slanting quickly away. "i saw you weren't in bed and thought i'd come look for you," was his response, his tone steady, his brows knit.
you made a light hum in answer. you thought to speak again before silence befell you two and made things awkward, but after a brief pause, he spoke first.
"i'm gonna miss this."
"we'll be back next summer," you reminded him, his pensive coolness making you antsy for different reasons than you'd been antsy over before.
max's face turned to yours and a knowing look glazed over his eyes. he stared as if to say, "i mean this. you", and once you'd caught on, you inhaled a shaky breath and cast your eyes quickly away.
"we'll see each other," you replied, biting the inside of your cheek.
he was uncharacteristically unreadable. especially uncharacteristically for his best friend who always knew what he was thinking just by the countenance he took up. you guessed either anxious, or thinking. you couldn't look him in the eye long enough to make a determined answer. something felt different about the conversation. it wasn't like the stupidly awkward ones you kept having the entire week. unfunny jokes, forced smiles, blurted words. it was.. knowing. knowing of what? you were unsure. but almost like your pages were flipping so that they could match up. almost like you were meeting in the middle.
you were holding out for next summer. maybe your feelings had ruined things that one, but a whole year apart from him and everything would go back to being how it was. you were relying on that. and sure, he couldn't know why you were being how you were being, but you wouldn't have to tell him when next summer, all your problems would fix themselves.
your friendship didn't have to end just because of one bad summer, right? and when you looked at him, his thinking eyes turned away from you, his slackened body, his worried face, you trusted that you were doing what was best for both of you if you truly wanted to keep that friendship. soon he'd understand.
and though it wrenched your heart straight out of your chest, though it hurt you in more ways than one, it had to happen.
and so you were decidedly going to make it happen. turning to him, your mouth opened to begin a quick dismissal and to say that you were going to get ready for bed, but he spoke faster.
"i love you, y/n."
looking wistfully out on the water, his hands in his lap, he said it in such a way that made it seem more like giving up. not like some burst of energy or secret, but like he was letting his guard drop. like he was the king of a castle being raided, sitting on his throne and accepting his defeat. like his tongue was finally yielding its secrets with one last sigh.
your mouth remained open. not to give some cheap dismissal, but in pure. shock.
what? had he just said what you thought he did?
he said it in so wistful a tone, it was no big surprise that you questioned him having said it at all. max did not even await your answer, like he wasn't even expecting one at all. "and i have. and i will." his pensive, sunken eyes slid to meet your own, bewildered ones. "and i need to know. before i give up entirely. before i deny my feelings any longer. before i force them away, if there is some chance—some semblance of a chance, that you could love me back."
no response. your heart was beating out of your chest, cheeks barren and pale, eyes wide in pure shock. you could catch flies with how far open your mouth was. "max, what are you saying," you breathed out in a whisper.
"i'm saying," his eyes fell to your lips momentarily. he needed you. "i'm saying— if you don't love me... if you want only a friend out of me— if you really want it, i will stop loving you. right here. right now. i will give it all up. i will get up, go to bed, and never bring up this conversation again. for you," max affirmed, like the words hurt him, but you were on the line.
"but..." he continued, head tilting, eyes again on your soft lips, cracked open. you didn't know how to feel. your head was spinning. "if you do love me. if you can find it in yourself to, then i have to tell you: i have loved you ever since high school, y/n, when you sat with me in the bathroom and showed me all your friendship bracelets whenever i got upset. i love your laugh. your smile, the way your eyes glint when you giggle. i love the sound of your voice, especially when it says my name— i love the way your hands cover your stomach when you're upset. i love how you put your hair up whenever you do something you know will stress you out. i love your eyes and their way of lighting up when something you enjoy is brought up. i love your silly jokes and your awkward humor, your knock knees you hate so much, your scars and callouses.. i love you. infinitely. and it has to be said. and i wish i had said it sooner before everything went bad on this trip— and—" he was babbling, aimlessly professing all the syllables left unpronounced, all the words left unsaid, all the secrets left unspoken. "and if you— if there are— if you love me.... well— but if you don't... love me..."
he was leaning in. your head was spinning. his eyes would not tear from your lips. you couldn't breathe if not for the air blowing out from his mouth, fanning across your face, creeping through your teeth and down your throat. close enough to smell him. "i will let go. say the word, and i will stop..." he might've said more. he most definitely was going to.
"max," you breathed.
he quieted instantly, like you were the only prayer his lips could shape. his big brown eyes looked despairingly at you, brows upturned, awaiting your answer. you sat there beside him. the initial surprise had worn off, and all that was left was wordless hope. overwhelming, all-consuming want. "please. kiss me," you whispered, unsure your mouth knew any other word or phrase to pronounce in that there moment. unsure you even wanted to say anything else.
the swallows received you in a messy haze of lips against lips, teeth against teeth. max, without another word or thought, reached with broad hands to either side of your jaw and pulled you into his awaiting kiss. kissing him was warm and soft, slow and sweet. like pulp from an orange, honey from a comb. like something you hadn't known you needed until you got it. kissing max was experiencing every emotion all at once, a kaleidoscope of feeling at your fingertips, unveiling as lips slid against lips and teeth clashed.
you didn't want to pull away. you couldn't. your hands traveled to his tufts of brown hair, tangling in those locks, his skin thrumming beneath you, hot and humid. a noise left your throat that reverberated through your conjoined lips and had max kissing you deeper, faster. this. he needed this. and you could immediately tell when the mood shifted from slow and sensual to hot and bothered.
a lot happened that night. and none of it consisted of awkward jokes and forced laughs. flashes of max's broad hands around your waist, hauling you around his hips as he walked back into the house and stumbled into your shared room. pictures of his body over yours, his shirt pulled off, his hair tussled, his love-struck eyes hungrily eyeing you up and down. memories of his soft grunts breathed into the wet skin of your collarbone as he moved in and out of you. all so acutely rendered into perfection in the labyrinths of your mind. his eyes as he grew closer, his kisses sloppy, needy. everything you never let yourself imagine when you thought of times like these.
you never pushed the beds together. you didn't need to when you were sleeping on his chest instead. no longer in those friendly manners you loved to do at sleepovers, but with his bare, sweaty body under yours, the knowledge passed between you that if the world ended tomorrow, it wouldn't matter as long as the sun rose upon your intertwined bodies.
and when the sun did rise upon them, and you were forced out of your shared secret and into reality, max and you begrudgingly had to untangle yourselves. it was no longer awkward though. as you two dressed, only silent knowledge and whispers of kisses passed between you. the rest couldn't know about your little endeavors last night. and you two were discreet about it most definitely. as you stumbled out of the room, you made sure not to limp as much as your sore limbs entailed, to keep that same awkward distance you had all those days before, and never look max too long in the eyes.
and none of the boys caught on. not at breakfast, in the car, or on the ride home. none even questioned it, when your behavior was almost exactly as it had been before, and you seemed just as unwilling to be alone with max.
only one person saw through that act.
only ethan saw the way a smile teetered on your lips as your eyes caught max's. only ethan saw how max's gaze fell a moment too long on your dressed body as if he was seeing right through all those clothes again. only ethan noted the way your cheeks flushed when max passed a joke over to where you sat in the passenger seat of his car.
noah caught him watching the two of you from his place next to him in the backseat. "man. i wonder what happened between them," he spoke, his gaze now on you too. the car was on the road home and the silent buzz of wheels against concrete below filled in for the silences, as well as muffled giggles coming from the upper seats. he looked with dismissive worry, curiosity, but all ethan could do was smile and shake his head.
"oh, i do too."
—
taglist ..
@umeluvr , @princessseaajellie , @jiqsaww
#—𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚
.. a/n -
so... it's finally here gang.... i genuinely hope ya'll like it because i know a lot of you guys were waiting for it 🙈🙏🏻 ik ik it's crazy long but i warned you guys 💀 anyways i'm back on my grind and posting trust 🙈 @riverroadzz
max misses you especially while you're away for a few days when he stumbles across a certain video.. / based on a request /
— WARNINGS —
smut / swearing
── .✦
— # 𝑰𝑻 𝑾𝑨𝑺𝑵'𝑻 𝑶𝑭𝑻𝑬𝑵 that max had to miss you.
you lived with each other. you shared a bed, a room, a house. you were never apart unless to go get groceries or visit your friends, and even then, it was never too long or too drastic of an absence to note.
so when you said you were going on a trip down to see your cousin's new baby boy, max dwelled little on it. only 4 days you'd be gone, two of which would be devoted to actually driving down, as it was far away, and the only reason he didn't tag along was because he actually had work to do at home. he would see you in 3 nights when he came to pick you up. no biggie.
but god, was he struggling.
you had barely been gone 6 hours before he was physically holding himself back from bombarding your phone more than he already had. asking you about the drive, what your eta was, if there was any traffic, how you were... it was weird to see the house so empty, your favorite spots on his bed or by the balcony outside, now vacant, waiting to procure occupancy once again.
max wanted you to have fun, but... honestly? he didn't know what to do with himself. without you there, he had no one to kiss, no one to talk to, no one to watch movies with... max sat down at the computer and didn't get up for what felt like hours, editing, recording, playing games, and essentially preoccupying himself with something to do. he he nowhere else to go, anyways. you'd always filled that sense of solitude in him, and without you, it was empty and aching. he was tired—lonely after experiencing a couple hours without you, all the while knowing he'd have to go days.
you left around 7 a.m., and at around 9 p.m., the isolation grew until it had max deep cleaning the entire living room, lifting couches to vacuum underneath, mopping the floors, for god's sake— even wiping down the windows. twice! you could barely update him throughout the drive, but around that time, you sent him a text to let him know you'd arrived at your cousin's house, following up with pictures of the cute baby boy.
and as much as he was adorable—an exact copy of his mother—max could not care less. in fact, as he stared down at the screen reflecting the photo album back at him, he almost caught himself growing angry at the child for forcing you down there to see it. one of the pictures was you next to him, laying sleeping in the crib. he was cuddled up, cozy, smiling, adorable, but max's eyes latched onto your figure, gleaming up at the camera, your expression one of pure excitement and joy, your skin thrumming with exhilaration and happiness, your bright eyes looking at him again...
once max checked himself for staring a little too long at your photo, he decided to wipe the windows down again. third times a charm...?
nearing bedtime was the only time you could call. sure, it was late, and sure, you were already half-asleep by the time he had picked up, but max was just grateful to even be calling you at all. even when you could barely get through general questions and formalities without nodding off, yawning, saying something about "kids being tiring". even when you continually forgot to speak or answer questions. even when he no longer had your voice to listen to, but only the sound of your snores to fill in the silence.
it was better than listening to the ac, somehow especially sullen-sounding when listened to in loneliness. so he set his phone on the pillow beside his, ascertaining that it wouldn't fall and hang up accidentally as he tossed at night, then shifted to the other side and, like that, fell asleep.
the only difference of the second day was that you were able to text a bit more, and even call earlier. you had rested well and were much more productive. max would jump at the sound of a notification, hoping it was you, but still starting a bit when it actually was. you updated about the scenery of the beach they lived besides, the restaurant you went to, and even sent a video of the baby on the playground. he drank it up compliantly, exhilarated to have somebody to talk to besides his friends on the game, especially when it was you.
max missed you entirely. but of course, wanting nothing more than your absolute pleasure, he didn't bother telling you or ever seeming more eager than usual to talk lest it averted your attention elsewhere.
he was set to come down on the fourth day to pick you up and bring you home as you'd arrived there via rental, even to briefly see the baby or promenade on the beach. he would've loved to if time allowed it, but in earnest nothing excited him more than seeing you again and having you all to himself.
there was still a day till that, though. the night before, around 6 p.m., max's phone lit up with a request. you were babysitting the little boy as your cousin and his wife briefly went out to dinner, and the child was now asking to see your kitten back at the apartment.
hey baby, could you send me a video of daisy? alex is asking
max was setting up for a video in his gaming chair, his monitor already sitting atop his desk and the game already pulled up, jacob's contact ready to be called on the screen. but, not knowing where daisy was and figuring it would only take a bit to scroll through his camera roll to find a video, he compliantly swiped out of your messages and found the camera app, scouring.
max didn't take many photos, but when he did, all they were of was you. you licking an icecream cone, sitting on the curb of the road outside the shop, you lounging outside on the porch with a book in hand, you in a dressing room trying on a shirt... practically the entirety of his entire camera roll was you, whether spontaneously-taken or small photoshoots.
as max scavenged, he couldn't help but slow down and look at all of the ones of you. a smile grew on his face, his heart lifted and his want for you momentarily lifted as he scrolled. you, crouched on the streets of italy, petting a street cat, your smile peeking out from behind the cover of your hair. you sitting across from him at a cafe table, iced coffee in hand, your eyes looking up at him and not the camera and the brightest smile on your face. you, you, you.
it made him temporarily forget that you were miles upon miles—hours upon hours away. it even made him temporarily forget what he even was doing, scrolling through his camera roll.
a picture of you from the back in one of his band shirts and no pants, in the kitchen making eggs on the stove, glasses on your face and your hair messily done up in a ponytail. he smiled, his finger scrolling to the left and his heart immediately dropping. because the next video was nothing so innocent as that.
obscene noises sounded from the speakers of his phone. skin slapping on skin, your moans filling the sex-tinted air. there you were in all your glory. except this time, you weren't smiling or laughing or doing all those cute things he loved in all those other photos. no. this time, your face was contorted in a mix of pleasure and lust. this time, your body was splayed out before the camera in the most inappropriate manners.
max could feel every bone in his body chill. well, except one...
there he was on the screen, the only thing in view his lower abdomen and the girth of his cock rocking in and out of you, slowly, leisurely, picking up the pace, then falling back down. the video was choppy, dim, and poorly made, shaking due to the pleasure-driven tremor in max's hand.
a video. the only video of its kind ever before made between the two of you. what must've been a month ago, you had fallen into the bed with him as usual. this time though, wordlessly, you had reached for the phone and asked cutely if he could record. max had not complained. how could he say no when you were so prettily done up before him, wearing nothing but that pleading look on your face.
he had just stumbled across that video. and it was reminding him how much he... missed.... you.
both hands came up to the grip the phone like he had to hide it from someone.
"max—" your voice rang from the speakers, and a violent shudder went down his spine.
apparently it had the same effect a month ago, because max began desperately rocking in and out of you, his dick coated in cum, hands pressing against your lower abdomen where his length buldged and causing stars to form before your eyes. you let out a desperate cry, scrambling and squirming against the base of his pelvic, head falling back and hands twisting in the sheets above your head. "max, please— i'm gonna—" the way you were all showcased and displayed for the phone's view had you all worked up...
"shh...." he responded, the camera panning out of view as he leaned in and kissed your chest, then panning back in as he stood up again. "m'gonna take care of you, baby..." you moaned breathily as his hands came to your bare tits and played gently with the peak of your nipple, your brows furrowed upward and your eyes desperate, his cock never once slacking in its brutal pace. spearing you. in and out. in and out.
"look at you, baby..." he whispered, in a trance, his hand then reaching down and toying with the sensitive skin of your clit, like he couldn't touch you enough, like each piece of you was something new to explore and graze, hips rocking back and forth with the pace of his caresses. one moment, his thumb would be hitched on your bottom teeth, another, groping your chest... "is this all for me?"
you could barely handle it, the way he was touching you, only bucking your hips into his, begging him to give you more. your head shot back and a groan danced across your lips. "yes— yes, max— please just—" the way your pussy clenched around him in response to his pace, the wet sound of your juices in the air... his tip kissed your g-spot with every thrust, filling you up so nicely. "need you—" you gasped, that knot in your stomach building.
"need me where?" his soppy fingers pulled apart your entrance and his thumb slipped inside of you as well, curling. you screeched in response, back arching.
"ma— max— fuck!" you cried, your head shooting to watch as his hands worked with his cock, but not being able to see the obscene sight without feeling like finishing right then and there, falling back again. "i'm gonna cu— fu.." you felt so full, so drunk on the feeling.
"yea?" tears pricked your waterline and you babbled some incoherent words along with your moans as he worked you open, spearing you so good you couldn't even look him in the eyes. "here? is this where you need me?"
all you could do was moan erratically, your manicured hands falling to the sheets beside your head. you swore you were seeing stars, and as he grew nearer to climaxing, his movements became more sloppy, quickening, and his groans louder and more frequent. your juices were soaking the lower half of his body and the phone in his hand was shaking too much to even catch coherent clips.
"fuck— i'm gonna fuck you so— good— mm—" he grunted out, his pace ever-quickening and your moans quickening along with them. his dick was twitching inside you with each flutter of your walls around him, each clench that had him going crazy, fucking you like a bunny in heat. he was stretching you open and feeling the tightness of you on all sides. it was driving him crazy. the camera panned out but the sound of skin slapping skin and his grunts grew louder and more rapid, his hand pulling your hips down onto his cock and fucking yourself on him.
"max please, fuck! no— i can't— gonna—"
the phone dropped as he bottomed out in you, and the clip came to an almost-cinematic close.
max, almost in awe at the sheer obscenity of what he had just watched, stared in shock at his phone. it was a relatively short clip, but his memory filled in the rest for him. filling you up, your pretty moans, all those sweet kisses he gave you afterwards... sure, he missed you before, but now? well, he was worked up. he dropped his head back on the gaming chair and a hand came to his mouth, his skin thrumming with hungriness and a desire to have you back with him right then and there so he could fuck you like he did in that damn video.
"shit..." he couldn't record, not with his dick aching and throbbing in his sweats with no outlet to use except his hand. he shouldn't have... max really, really should've just snapped out of it, sent the video, and went to record, but not when that image of your pussy clenching around his cock was replaying in his mind. no. he needed to see it play out in realtime, again.
so, like some guilty thief confessing to his crimes, he looked back down at the phone in his shaky, sweaty hands, and pressed the replay button. this time, he did much more than watch.
as max five months ago fucked you real good, max now desperately palmed at the ache in his pants to the pace of his thrusts, hearing your moans, watching you squirm and your pussy squelch and timing it perfectly so as you'd finish, he would simultaneously.
"fu...." he groaned, his head falling back and his eyes shutting closed. "y/n— gonna— mmm— need you.."
his cock desperately twitching, aching for you, his body was shaking at the thought that he'd have you back tomorrow, so that it'd be your hands in his pants rather than his.
you around him and not his fingers, moving up and down, squirming as you hit the base, your nails digging into his back... you moaning his name so sweetly... his pace quickened as he imagined it all, his guttural groans growing desperate and louder and your name riding off his tongue, his tip weeping. you crying desperately as he finished, imagining his cum filling you up so good inside of you instead of just everywhere on his pants and even desk. you, you, you.
and... your text.
as max stroked the last of his cum from his half-hard cock, barely physically-present and still working off the last of his fits, he barely had time to process your notifications coming from his phone.
max..!! daisy??
"fuck..." it even got on his phone, the video still pulled up. he could barely even process anything with his cock still begging to stroke another out and so he lazily clicked the share button and tapped the first contact, yours, sending it and getting up to clean up his mess.
he came back to you blowing up his phone.
wtf?!, one text read.
max! that is not daisy!
slightly confused, max clicked into the messages to check on what you could possibly mean. he had sent you the video of the cat, he'd thought. but then, looking back at it...
in his half-stupor, he had sent you the entirely wrong video...
max picked up the phone bashfully, laughing at himself.
wrong cat
#—𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚
.. a/n -
that was so freaky i actually am shocked i wrote that (my first time 💔). i'm going to have to write a WHOLE LOTTA fluff to make up for that 🙏🏻 ty for the request mils i love you and hope you like it ❤️❤️ @theyluvmils
Spoilers: RDR2 ch1
Content: 18+ mdni, NFSW, m/f smut, drunk sex, praise, pervert warning, canon typical events / violence, possible unintentional spelling mistakes, grammar errors I couldn’t be bothered to fix.
Type: second pov / (wc - 1442) / pc: me
Summary: a night of drinking never goes unpunished
You stirred awake to a shadow looming in the tent. The soft clanking of metal, and clicking of spurs from unsteady steps made your breath hitch. Now propped up on your elbows, your heavy eyes managed to follow the man fumbling in the darkness.
Through your delirium, incoherent murmurs must have escaped you which warranted a response.
“jus’ me, hush.”
John’s whisper, soft like butter, melted your body back onto the bedroll. It only took three words from the man to bring you the security he offered, in more ways than one.
“s’alright.”
John reassured through a strain, knowing he startled you all too often— whether it was a late night drinking, or a guard shift.
Your shared tent was tucked behind the medicine wagon, close enough for John to keep an eye on you, but far enough for some privacy the man so desperately requested.
Soon enough his body was united with yours, a welcoming embrace of tobacco and whiskey that never failed to blanket you with comfort during the night.
His chest vibrated against your back as he hummed, rejoicing in the mutual comfort that he brought you. John’s hand ran down your side, calloused palms snagging on the fabric as he worked against it. Your torso trembled, anticipating his every action as he was soon consumed by a different high. His lack of rationalization from the whiskey radiated off him with a feverish heat that pulsed over you.
“c’mon sweetheart.”
The vague and needy words dissipated as quickly as they formed. Your eyes met his, a certain sadness sunk within his dull blue wells, glossed and masked over with the liquid dopamine he poured every night.
Turning to his embrace, your hands weaved through his shirt, both unclasping the buttons and beckoning him. An offer John gladly took as you positioned yourself for his body on top of yours.
With one arm propping himself over you, and the other tussling at his waist. His rehearsed movements in the dark had to be second nature by now.
The wind rippled through the fabric of the tent, momentarily welcoming in the moonlight. Allowing you to catch a glimpse of the man over you, the blue beams kissing the raw scars on his cheek.
There was no doubt John got off easy,
The wolves could have taken much more from him, but managed to be more forgiving than any BlackWater lawman could have been.
You let out an impatient protest as his hands continued to fumble, temporarily appeasing you with his lips.
His stubble dragging across your collarbone made you shutter. John’s kisses were usually coated in whiskey, only to leave you with a different high than the one he chased earlier.
“you’ve been eyeballin’ me all day, missy.”
He remarked against your skin, a slight drawl presenting itself as he freed your torso from your shirt.
You felt your cheeks heat up, both from his words, and your naked state. Despite John knowing your body just damn well as his own, everytime managed to feel like the first.
John always caught your eyes on him. Sweat beading down his forehead as he worked an axe effortlessly, it was almost as if the man was beautifully built for manual labor. You were infatuated with the way his biceps would flex while his toned muscles peeked through the shirt that clung to him with every move. He would eventually meet your indiscreet gaze with amusement, knowing very well he would be all over you at night's arrival.
Your eyes would simply linger a moment longer, despite being caught red handed. He couldn't help but to admire your boldness, a confidence hidden within you not needing to be boasted about for validation.
“Someone’s gonna hear—“
You cooed, your worries being thrown away by the hungry lips and hands that carassessed your breasts.
John grumbled, not bothered to remove his attention from your neck. Throughout his buzzed state, his hands became coordinated, grasping at and invading every part of your bare skin available to him.
How sweet he thought you were, a blank canvas only for him cast upon. A small gasp escaped your lips as you felt a small nibble on your neck. His excitement demonstrated through the smile plastered against your skin, along with a hard spot pressing against your leg.
“keep those little lips quiet, now.”
John commanded with a whisper, his rough fingertips ghosting their way across your waist to free you from your restricting garments.
His drunken staggering alone was enough to wake the others, but the man always blamed you for being too noisy.
Perhaps it was his own pride, cocky words he could not help but to boast— he reckoned it ain’t his fault he’s so good in the sheets. Hell, he can’t help how he makes you feel.
“such a good girl for me, ain’t ya?”
John murmured through a soft moan, just the thought of you made him ache, his body begging for the release you so willingly gave him.
His pants were finally kicked down and bunching up just below his knees. Before words could be spoken they were interrupted by John’s fingertips that raised to his lips, a dollop of spit being dispersed onto them.
A brash groan left his lips and graced your rosy cheeks while his hand stroked up the shaft of his cock— either unneeded preparation, or a ritual of his, you couldn’t tell.
Your torso knotted and quivered against him, impatience consuming your every move. Quiet moans escaped you as the head of his cock met your slick entrance, always proving his preparation irrelevant.
“Jesus, woman— this worked up over me?”
The man beamed with a husky chuckle, not realizing the volume of his voice until your palm smacked his chest.
More of a tease at your dismay, John couldn’t help but to always comment on it. Your wetness was a mere reminder he always took pride in.
His smug smile eventually twisted into a bitten lip as he eased himself into you, the lack of self control overrunning any wit to him he had left.
“that’s it,”
John praised gently, his jaw going lax as his length slipped further in you. A rugged hand clasped over your mouth as his hips began to thrust. His half-lidded eyes eventually meeting yours.
Your eyes held so much trust for him, trust he was never sure how he earned in the first place. How he wished he could hear the moans of his name, but instead focused on the shared pleasure you gave him. With your walls contracting and fluctuating around him, he thought it was nearly too much to handle.
“Marston! It's your shift!”
A nasally demand rang from outside the tent.
Through your ecstasy, you had no recollection of any steps approaching, and neither did John— god only knows how long the pervert was loitering outside the thin canvas.
“Christ!”
The shriek of horror that left John’s lips, you could have sworn he saw a ghost. Springing up at your feet, his pants were yanked up and manhood tucked away while you scrambled for cover.
John stormed out with a stumble, so many feelings of wrong and right flooding through and past him like the wind.
“Goddamnit— Williamson—“
He sputtered in disbelief, arms gesturing violently towards the man’s mug.
“If I didn’ know any better, I reckon you’d like hearin’ my woman.”
John barked at the man, the shock in his tone long erased by bitterness.
You hid in your palms, the embarrassment burning through your cheeks, and the airborn tension that managed to leak into the tent.
The silence John created was painful, if it wasn’t obvious enough already, the entire camp was now aware of you two.
The pause was eventually broken with a nasty hawk and spit, along with curses that ran off of John’s tongue. His pleasant night with you was quickly turning into a sober guard shift.
John trudged back through the tent flaps in defeat, retrieving his discarded gun belt at your feet with a frown plastered on his face, gently illuminated by the lantern he now held.
“never again in camp.”
The man scowled to himself, the risk of waking the others was long gone— if he had to be miserable, so did everyone else trying to sleep.
With John’s attention circling back to you, another kiss, just as needy as before, was placed on your lips, lingering for a moment before meeting his impending doom.
His boots were haphazardly pulled on with a struggle. You repeated his words, a small grin crept upon you in his state of frustration.
your ex, max, shows up at the cafe you work at after hours, in desperate need of a cake, and willing to help. but things take a turn when you confront him about the breakup.
── .✦ !this is a VERY slow slowburn!
— # 𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑹𝒀 𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮, 𝑨𝑻 8 a.m., a crepe was taken from the oven, coated in butternut spread, folded, and drizzled with nutella syrup and a pinch of powdered sugar.
every morning, at 8:15 a.m., the bell above the door to the bakery shook with its litany of notes as a lanky, brunette gamer leaned onto the counter and ordered a crepe coated in butternut spread, folded, and drizzled with nutella syrup and a pinch of powdered sugar.
before this peculiarly handsome gamer boy was anything more than a regular at the cafe you worked at, he was simply the guy that came in every morning to order the same exact thing and flirt with you over the counter with that cheeky smile and ruffled brown hair. the guy you were completely obsessed with. the guy whose order you always had pre-prepared just for him.
as you'd slide the crepe across the counter into his hand after he'd paid, and he'd slyly shoot you a wink and some remark that had you reeling for the rest of the day, he'd be gone just as fast as he came, leaving a trail of charm that you latched onto and obsessed over until the next morning came.
max, his name was. that very first morning he waltzed into the small bakery and surveyed the menu about the display cases, he caught your eye. tall, handsome, charming, and witty, propping his arms on the counter and shooting a joke as you stood there in your disheveled state of half-tied aprons and flushed cheeks.
the next morning, you watched the door for his arrival, quickly fixing your appearance in the reflection of the display case glass as you noticed him turning the corner.
pretty soon, he became a regular. obsessing over every particle of air he breathed, you memorized his silly order and made it every morning 5 minutes before he came in to greet you with that even sillier smile.
and then... and then... one morning, you weren't the only one sliding things across the counter to the other. no. when you passed his crepe to him, he passed something infinitely better... to you.
10 numbers, 3 dashes, 3 sequences of 3 and 4. his number. his glorious, glorious number. you stared down at it in pure shock and awe as he grabbed his traded item and turned to the door, walking right out like he hadn't just given you everything you'd ever dreamed of. you watched his broad back growing smaller and more distorted as the distance increased, and with shaky hands, picked up the object of ultimate interest with every possible emotion raking through you as if it was some long-lost article of pangea.
the night found you pacing your room, ripping at your poor nails with your canines and going over every little word you nearly sent him. "heyyy" sounded too eager. "hey" didn't sound eager enough. "hey!" was just desperate, but "hey." was out of the picture.
you decided on a simply: "heyy".
before it even crossed your mind to let him know who it was texting him, he had already responded, shooting you a flirtatious, "hey baker girl" that had you screaming into your pillows in girlish giddiness.
the night was spent in joking flirtations and little laughs that bounced between the two of you. never before had you stayed up that late to talk to a boy. never before had you even talked to a boy. he had you up and energetic at 1 a.m., shooting quick replies as if you didn't have a morning shift to attend to 6 hours in advance.
he was so effortlessly funny. so conveniently charming even as he responded to generic questions about siblings or favored colors. so advanced into the acquaintance were you two already, just by that one night of talking, that when he came in at his usual time the next morning, a line had formulated behind him just because of with what ease a long conversation over the counter had started up between you two. you almost forgot to give him his order.
it continued like this for a while. by night, long hours of texting and laughing together. by day, a funny conversation cut short against both of your wills. he'd mention you on his lives, bring you trinkets and small gifts every morning, and take you out to get ice cream or watch a movie with him. in short, everything you could ever want or dream of in a man. but it was still important to remind yourself that he was unachievable. a popular youtuber that every girl who came across him wanted, he had plenty other options, and you doubted you even were one.
one morning, as usual, he came in, leaned against the counter, and ordered his crepe that you had waiting for him in the back. this time though, he appeared visibly anxious, not knowing where to put his hands or what stance to take up. never looking you too long in the eye, keeping conversation short and practically beelining for the door after he'd paid.
confused and a bit distressed over it, you clocked out the rest of your shift, going over the meeting he seemed unwilling to be a part of in your head and beating yourself up over something you probably did that slipped your mind. you could barely answer to customers, let alone help in the kitchen. it was like time slowed, and you were watching the clock, nervous to get your hands on your phone and your questions to that boy.
at 9:00, you shot to the kitchen, practically wrestling your apron off and grabbing your things from the little drawer you kept them in. too busy were you fishing your phone out of your bag and opening max's contact up to acknowledge your surroundings as you hastily pushed out of the door to the kitchen and threw a half-assed "goodbye" to your coworker.
one hand on the phone and the other's nails being bitten off with your teeth, you typed up a worried question as to his behavior earlier that morning as you walked through the tiny cafe, fixing your bag onto your shoulder where it limply hung and hitting the "send" button.
a million thoughts were racing through your head as the door to the bakery shut loudly behind you and the bell erratically rung somewhere above your head, your eyes still nervously going over the text. once you'd figured you were overthinking it enough, stumbling down the steps to the sidewalk, your phone was haphazardly dropped into your tote again and your hands came to your lap to smooth down the pink uniform you were required to wear.
turning right in the direction of your tiny apartment, you were so far into your thoughts that you almost bumped into a boy in front of you.
you stopped in your tracks entirely and froze, dead silent as your eyes met his.
max. max, looking at you with his big brown eyes and nervously twitching hands.
all thoughts left your head. you forgot about your disheveled state, what you'd make for lunch, or the text you'd just sent, because max was standing in front of you, flushed, shaking, and holding a bouquet of flowers out in arms-length to you like a silly schoolboy confessing to his crush.
you opened your mouth in confusion, starting up a bewildered question. was he waiting out here for 45 minutes for you? what was the occasion that called for flowers? what the hell was going on!? his question was quicker than yours.
"will you be my girlfriend?" he asked in an erratic tone, looking half-mental and half-bashful. you stared in silent shock at him, then the carnations—your favorite flower—then at him again.
all the previous charm and gallantry he'd harbored had completely disappeared, replaced with a nervous, distressed schoolboy awaiting an answer. max had just asked you to be his girlfriend. it's like you couldn't process it. max had just asked you to be his girlfriend.
you opened your mouth to formulate an answer. it was an easy yes, but you couldn't get it out, shutting it again. "max—" you stuttered with a breathy laugh on your lips as you processed it all. "max— of course i'll be your girlfriend!"
and that was how it all began. so how did it end?
max was—in short—everything a boyfriend ought to be. everything your boyfriend ought to be. for a year, both of you were in love. irrevocably, unconditionally, uncontrollably in love. not once did he not show up in the mornings to order his crepe, except this time, he'd lean over the counter to kiss your lips as you handed it to him, not just to flirt. not once would he admonish you, fight with you, hurt you. not once would he be anything but loving, attentive, and caring. you were moved into his apartment, into his waiting embrace within a month.
and lord if it wasn't heaven to be called his girlfriend. if it wasn't heaven to watch him stream from his bed instead of through a phone screen. if it wasn't heaven to come home to a prepared dinner and open arms, a kiss waiting to be planted on a cheek, a hug waiting to be hugged back.
albeit, there's always a "but" implanted somewhere in a love story.
you met max when his channel was not yet so large. he was known, but not notorious. this allowed you time with him. this allowed for a larger portion of his attention to be turned on you, and not his gaming.
so, for a year, for 12 months, for four seasons, your love was unconditional, your cuddles were endless, and your kisses, perpetual.
until he began growing. and grew he did. it was only expected that, as his channel grew, so did his attention towards it. you were fine with that at first. he still had no problem showing up like he used to. not only that, but it paid the bills a lot better. your mom was always worrying about the state of your living because of the lack of money you two shared. always asking about his work. always openly admonishing his job.
that problem was fixed as more money came pouring in. but there was a price to pay with that income.
all of a sudden, max would miss a prepared dinner he never would've before. all of a sudden, his nights were spent streaming instead of in your arms. all of a sudden, you were begging him for the attention he'd have no trouble giving you a few months ago.
all of a sudden, it felt more like you were dating a famous youtuber than it felt like you were dating max.
you couldn't bear it. and so as you crumbled under the stress of it all, so did your relationship. he loved you like no other, and you did him. he tried to get it back. he did. but you were moved out and gone before anything could've been fixed. you were moved out and gone because you knew there was no fixing it.
and you tried to tell yourself that you didn't want it back. you tried to tell yourself you didn't miss him—you didn't want to see him, even as you prepared a crepe coated in butternut spread, folded and drizzled with nutella and a pinch of powdered sugar at 8:00 a.m.. even as you continued to do so, in spite of the fact that the bell above the door never again rang at 8:15 a.m. to announce his arrival.
゛ ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ —
5 MONTHS LATER
you hated night shifts.
something about the silent solitude of a dimly lit bakery nearing bedtime made you feel unsettled. the cicadas chirping from the open window, the moon casting down shadows of trees on the chairs... it was rarely you ever took up the job, but as you were covering for a friend—and you didn't have to deal with angry customers—you decided not to complain.
you watched as the final customers emptied out, hastily making your way to their table and grabbing the dirty dishes. the night was young, but as it was nearing christmas-time, it was still pitch-black outside. thunder rumbled in the distance. to divert the thoughts from your head, you cleared their table, alternating from the kitchen to the dining area while humming your favorite tune.
the quicker you could be out of that place, the better, and so after you were done with the general mess, you wasted no time turning the sign on the door from "open" to "closed" and cleaning the area with the leisure of loneliness, dreading having to come back not even 24 hours later.
one final sweeping of the floors and you were done. you grabbed a mop and began making rounds across the room, still humming, still thinking as rain began to steadily pour outside.
just about when you were getting comfortable, feeling peaceful, enjoying your loneliness, a fervent knock came pounding on the door. you jumped, whipping your head to the glass, trying to see through the fog who could possibly be at some random bakery at this hour. the humidity of the rain did not allow for good vision, and as, in terror, you wondered what to do, another fervent knock came down upon it.
hastily, holding the mop in hand, you went to the door and gripped the knob, turning it and opening it. "we're clos—" you began over the loud sound of the rain, but trailing off mid-sentence. "max."
he stood on the doorstep, wet hair clinging to his forehead, white shirt sticking to his form, his face dripping with rainwater but his eyes as clear as day, gazing into yours. "look—" he began without giving you time to turn him away as you stared him up and down in pure, utter shock. "i know you're closed— but my mom's birthday is tomorrow and i really need a cake. you're the only place i knew to come."
slightly trembling, though the humidity should've induced otherwise, you met his eyes again. those eyes. you had no clue what to say, neither any clue about what he said, too caught up in the moment. "i can't— we're closed i can't—" you said hastily, going to shut the door not even because you didn't want to help him, but because the surprise of seeing him sent you into a panicked stupor. you couldn't.
max put his hand on the glass before you could shut it, looking desperate. "y/n. please. it's an emergency. i'll do anything—pay you anything. i just need this cake by tomorrow and no one else will help," he begged. you shook your head, backing away, but he wouldn't allow it. taking a step forward, he persisted. "for god's sake y/n. please. i have no other options. i'll explain everything, just please, let me in."
and no matter what state you were in, when those eyes you loved—love—were all of a sudden looking into yours in realtime, not just in some silly dream or fantasy, you had no choice but his. your mouth dropped open, then closed. you couldn't say yes. you couldn't say no.
instead, you said neither. you looked over your shoulder at the clock above the counter. 8:23 it read. averting back to him, you took a shaky breath. "i can't do it myself. it would take too long." that was enough of an approval for him. he quickly nodded.
"i can help. anything. i said i'd do anything. even learn how to bake."
and so, before you could tell yourself you were doing something wrong, you apprehensively stepped out of the way and let him in. max let out an audible sigh of relief, passing you and obviously happy to be sheltered from the rain. you watched him like he was some strange animal as he wrung his shirt and shook his hand through his mop of hair to dry off. he looked just like the max you loved. just like the max you were trying to deny you still loved.
that broad back. that mess of hair. that prominent nose and those strong facial features. it was all picture perfect from 5 months ago. when you looked at him, you felt like the same version of yourself, moving out of his apartment and to your parent's again, lonely, terrified, holding the bleeding parts of your heart in your hands. when you looked at him, when you smelled his cologne, when you studied his movements, you felt like that same, naive version of yourself that you so hated, and it fucking scared you.
pretty quickly, though, you caught yourself in the wrong of remembrance. you cleared your throat, shaking your head. you would not spiral down that rabbit hole again.
deciding to get this over with quickly, the mop was left leaning against the wall as you smoothed down your skirt, wasting no time to check if he was following, your feet making a beeline to the kitchen. you were almost unbelieving of the fact that this was happening.
you are not that naive girl anymore, y/n.
"thank you, this means a lot—" max said, trailing you. you chose to abstain from speaking if you could help it, not responding.
the door swung closed behind you two, max took in the area around him that was the kitchen.
you crouched and began clambering through pots and pans in one of the drawers by the oven, obviously exasperated, and he took pains in watching you and the tangible air of awkwardness.
"i uh— had a cake ordered but they screwed it up," he said, trying to fill in the silence with his words as he stood in the open. "i didn't know where else to come, and this place closes late usually... I didn't think you'd be here. if i'd known—"
you did NOT want to hear that. cutting him off, you slammed a bowl onto the metal stand and swallowed thickly, then turning to the fridge. "don't worry— no judgment here. just ready to be home."
that shut him up for a while. without knowing what to do with himself, he simply stood there like a sore thumb, panicking, unsure, uncomfortable, watching as you scattered around the room and piled all the necessary items in one spot.
but max sure knew he couldn't just stand there forever. you said he'd be needed, and so he was determined to make himself useful, especially as you were helping him. apprehensively, he joined your side, watching you pour the remnants of flour into the bowl you'd acquired from the cabinet above your heads, estimating it in cups.
noticing his presence, you slid him the eggs. "two of them, crack them in the bowl and separate the yolks." you nudged it in his direction. happy to help, he hastily opened the carton and got to work as you, in turn, occupied yourself with measuring out the sugar.
both of you worked separately. the presence of silence between you was no longer comfortable like it used to be, but undoubtedly awkward. it was so surreal to be standing next to him, and though you did not want to, your body automatically relaxed a bit in his presence. he had always had that effect on you.
you'd rather do anything but notice him in that moment, but still. you couldn't help your eyes from averting to his station as he began, cracking the eggs, but failing miserably in separating the yolks, which in turn made it necessary to fish broken egg shells from out of the flour, and then an entire egg out from the mix when he failed at that. max hated the unnatural tension between you two, and though he was visibly embarrassed he couldn't do better in front of you, awkwardly trying to shield your line of vision from his work, it actually earned a half-smile from you, watching his desperate attempts. he was the same, awkward boy you knew 5 months ago, somewhat of a reassurance to you.
when he noticed, he let out a surprised, breathy laugh. you were smiling. the tension was slightly being relieved, and he was elated to find that in its place, there was something similar to quiet comfort as he silently admired that smile he so loved. "i'm not very good at this—" he said haphazardly, trying to shake flour from the sticky shells. "probably shouldn't have asked for my help..." you shook your head.
"here." taking up his spot, you did the work for him, hastily cracking a new egg and separating the yolk. max watched as you expertly did the job. well... he watched YOU, really. not the job at all. smiling at the way your tongue poked out like it always did when you were concentrating. "i've done this so many times, it's impossible to mess up," you said as you threw a shell into the trash and leveled his line of vision with yours.
though, those brown eyes staring back at you snapped you out of whatever temporary state of comfort you had acquired in him real quick, and you instantly remembered who you were talking to. there was no room for jokes between you and those brown eyes. no room at all.
turning back to your station, you cleared your throat, going cold again. he noticed. "uhm— you can measure the oil. 1 cup," pointing to the ingredients.
max nodded. progress, he told himself. if he could just make you laugh again... if he could just see that smile one more time... no matter how much he thought he knew you... knew your quirks, when he saw you in realtime, no dream or fantasy could measure up. as max did as you told, his eyes occasionally flicking to yours, it became harder and harder for him to keep quiet like you had no trouble doing, only breaking the silence to ask "what flavor?" or "does she have any allergies?"
but it's not like he could've just started up a conversation as you two did your separate jobs. every conversation would've eventually circled back to that messy breakup. to the worst time of his life.
though, to his surprise... you actually did the job for him, speaking up first. you figured if you were going to be stuck making a cake together, the least you could do was not make it torture. you knew your off-putting actions were causing tension.... "tomorrow... tell your mom i said happy birthday. i do miss her."
he lit up, casting his gaze over to your face, which was specifically turned away from him. "oh, yea. she misses you too. won't stop bringing you up," max responded. "especially those mean macaroons you'd make."
an airy laugh escaped your lips. score.
"yea... i put all my love into those. i don't work here for nothing." you took up the bowl and began struggling with the spatula to mix the ingredients together. you two had already done the eggs, flour, sugar, and oil. all that was left to be done was to pop it into a pan, in the oven, and then make the icing.
"that's why i trust you," he gestured to the bowl, leaning against the table with nothing else to do but watch. "she'll appreciate the cake once she knows you made it."
you gave a small smile, and this time, you didn't turn cold when your eyes met. "with your help."
"oh come on," he scoffed. "i'm here for moral support." then, dropping his eyes to the bowl, he gestured to it and looked into your eyes again... "and... you know... i don't work out for nothing."
max felt like the luckiest man alive when your lips lilted into a smile, and you laughed again. not once had he earned that reward, but twice. you held out the bowl to him and he instantly took it up, trying to keep from leaning down and kissing that smile right then and there by focusing on the batter.
"careful, or the batter'll fall in love with you."
"too late for that."
you laughed through your nose, shaking your head. everything in you was telling you no. everything in you was in a state of fight-or-flight, begging you to run away. but the look in his eyes had you tethered.
he was max. when he gazed at you, and you actually allowed yourself to look him in the eyes without cowering, he wasn't some all mighty being, some unachievable ex, some folkish creature your mind had glorified him into after the breakup. he was... just max, that cheesy, silly boy you loved.
max. your max. suddenly, it was so much easier to smile when he made some stupid pun about ovens as you slid the batter onto the grate. and suddenly, it was easier to look him in the eye when time called for it, and plunge into those brown fields as you waited for the cake to finish. and suddenly, being around him was just as enlightening and enjoyable as it used to be, when he was pumping the icing onto the cake or accidentally staining his hands with the food dye.
he wasn't just a famous youtuber. he was your max. the one you fell in love with. the one leaning over the counter to flirt with you. the one kissing you as you slid him his crepe. the one giddily mentioning you on livestreams.
and max... well... god, was he funny. and god, was it nice to watch his arms strain as he did simple tasks. and god, were you desperately trying to knock yourself into your senses again, remember what had happened between you.
and god, was it easy to forget all about it when he was looking at you like that.
it was like loving him all over again.
you carefully lowered the finished product into the packaging box max has fished out of the storage room for you. it was a vanilla cake coated in tangy lemon icing and embroidered in yellow along the edges, one of your finest works, and from the looks of it, it would taste amazing.
"we did good, huh," max said, watching your concentrated face with a languid smile. your cheeks were red from laughing and your eyes were bright, no longer the dim color he found them to be when he first stumbled onto your doorstep.
"a little too good. i want this all to myself," you hummed lightly, closing the lid, and smiling down at your work. "and..." the clock above max's head read 9:14. "we're not bad on time!"
max smiled, preoccupied with the look on your face. "not bad at all."
your hands, dusted with icing and flour, grabbed the box, gesturing him to follow. he took up your side as you walked out of the kitchen together. the night was dark and it was still raining in loud downpours. "do you have a ride? the cake could be ruined in the rain," you said, looking over at him.
"oh, yea. came in my car." max grabbed the handle of the door, the bell jingling over head. he held it open for you. "don't worry, nothing will ruin our masterpiece."
all you could do was smile, stopping on the steps as he walked onto the sidewalk, then turning to face you. the night had, as a whole, actually been lovely. you forgot how much you missed all his little quirks. he forgot how much he missed you. it was like some unspoken closure, and you felt good about it.
but... as you stood in front of him, about to give him his cake, ab unexplainable pit settled in your stomach. your disposition dropped. all of a sudden you were unsettled as you looked at him. as you looked at your max. then, down to the delicacy in your hands, then to him again. his eyes never wavered from yours as if he needed to drink up every angle of your face.
that pit in your stomach... you knew what it was. love. and once you handed this cake to him, once you gave it up and walked back inside to grab your things, once you watched his form walk away from yours, it would all be over. you'd never see him again. you'd have no reason to. that cake was the only thing keeping you tethered to the man you loved. your eyes met his, an unexplainable look flashing through his that wrenched your soul from your hands.
you felt like that girl again. from 5 months ago. but you weren't trying to push her away now. no. instead, you were going to embrace her.
"you never showed up," you said quietly, without thinking. so quietly it was barely audible over the rain, but max knew the words instantly, like he had been waiting for your mouth to shape them. his face dropped from that smile, his eyes going serious. "you— you never showed up—"
"y/n—" he said.
"no, max. tell me— why didn't you show up?" your voice trembled, your body slightly shaking, your mind reeling, your eyes desperate in earnest confusion. you wanted— needed to know. "i waited for you every morning, max. every morning, and you never came! you never showed up..."
"i—"
"i wanted to know. i wanted to hope. i wanted to believe you'd walk through that door. but you never did. you abandoned me." it's like your words were making you realize how you felt. never before had you addressed the ache in your heart about it until now. and ached it did. "and it fucking... it killed me..!"
"i— i thought you didn't want me!" max cried defensively, "you said— you said you hated me— i couldn't— god, how could i show up if you hated—"
"and you said you loved me for god's sake— we all say things we don't mean—!"
"but you—" max couldn't breathe, "you left me and i didn't— what was i supposed to do—!"
"fight for me!"
"i did! i tried! it was never enough— nothing i did was ever enough!"
"i gave you every opportunity, max— but no— you were always too preoccupied with your work!"
"for fuck's sake y/n do you know what it felt like to look your parents in the eye and know they hated me!? do you know what it felt like to be ashamed in front of you! in front of the only person i loved!? i did it for you— all of it was for you— all that work— all that money, for you—"
"i didn't want the damn money," you cried over the rain, your head shaking violently, clothes soaked through, hair sticking to your face, distraught, terrified. "i wanted you!.... you... and only you..." he went quiet. your chest was heaving, the tears streaming down your face camouflage by the rain. you gasped for air, "but that was never enough. because it was never going to be me."
it went quiet. max couldn't take it. he couldn't respond. this was killing him, he was cracking. all he could do was stand there in the rain, shaking his head, trying to abstain from tears, looking anywhere but your eyes. his body was shutting down. he had no reason left in him, no judgment. and so he said what he knew he shouldn't have.
"you know—" he began, averting his attention back to you. you stood there in silence. "you know i don't even like butternut spread. i never did. i don't give a fuck for nutella or crepes or powdered sugar. the only fuck i ever gave was for you. and you're sitting here, telling me i don't love you."
you tensed visibly, eyes going wide, watching him watch you.
"i didn't show up at that damn cafe for some butternut crepe. i showed up for you," he choked out, serious, "and i'd do it again, over and over. i'd relive the depression of heartbreak if it meant i got to lean over that damn counter one more time and kiss your fucking lips. i'd start it all over if it meant i got to love you for that short window of time. because i fucking loved you. i still love you, and i will never stop. and you can hate me for not showing up, and you can— tell yourself whatever you want to hear, but don't tell me that i don't love you. i burn for you. i would burn for you— i love you dammit."
you trembled, lost for words. his eyes were more serious, more drawn and earnest than you'd ever seen them. you sucked in a breath, doing everything in your power not to cry. you felt like you were burning for him too. "then why didn't you come? you could've come— you could've showed up— and now it's over— now it's too late and things will never—"
"fuck this."
max shot forward, grabbing you by your face and shoving you against him, his lips meeting yours in a hungry, angry clash of teeth and tongue, war and love, drinking you up, fervently grasping you like you were his cure and he was a madman. in shock, your hands dropped the cake to the floor, held up at either side of your shoulders as your mind shut down. max was kissing you. your body went into autopilot, standing completely still, your lips the only thing fighting against the paralyzation. your head screamed for you to get a grip, to fight away. but your feet were tethered to the floor, and it was impossible to move when his lips felt just like they did 5 months ago.
he pulled away, his lips red and sore, staring down at you, eyes shifting from lips to teeth to eyes again. his face was desperate. the dim moon cast shadows across the plains of his skin, rain streaming from his hair to his nose, and all that you had in your power to do was look into that lovesick face and melt into the fire of his eyes.
in a moment, max seemed to realize what he just did. a look of terror crossed his rain-soaked face as he gazed into yours and saw no sign of reciprocation. he looked disgusted with himself, looked like he knew you wouldn't want him. but you didn't have time to tell him otherwise, if you even could've spoken, because your body did the job for you.
your hands shot to his hair and pulled him in again. this time, you knew exactly what to do. this time, you were kissing him. your hands gripping at his brown locks, your eyes shut tight, your body shaking fervently..
after a slight bounty of shock, max compliantly responded. his hands traveled down your body, quickly latching onto your lower thighs and gripping them, pulling you up to straddle his waist and impossibly closer. you felt the pure desire, pure lust and hungriness of the kiss radiating through his wet shirt, the skin of his chest thrumming from beneath your fingers. cars rushed by, rain poured down, and tears fell, but it was all impossible to acknowledge as he pushed you against the brick wall, his lips never pulling away from yours.
your hands tangled in his hair, and his seemed to be everywhere at once. from at the nape of your neck, to your chest, to your waist, gripping your ass. his lips, similarly, broke away from yours and began planting sloppy, lovesick kisses down your jaw. you gasped lightly into the air, your fingernails digging into his shoulders as his teeth bit into all those sweet spots he knew you loved when he kissed.
"max—" you sighed, and it seemed to fuel him more as he grunted against your wet skin.
"fuck. you're driving me crazy—" he said, pulling away and looking you in the eyes. his gaze had you cowering, all you could do was kiss him again. he wasn't complaining.
that cake was long forgotten. suddenly, it never even mattered. because max didn't need to take a cake home to his mother, if he was bringing you.
#—𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚
.. a/n -
guys im aware how long this one is. 😭😭 if you sticked till the end, you're a real one.
