#i write

being of a larger size it’s hard to find clothing items designed to specifically make you feel sexy, even the models on websites catered to women in your exact situation couldn’t have been more than a size two and it’s hard to gauge a fit from misrepresentation online. if you were by some miracle able to find something here that doesn’t scream grandma, it was sure to put a sizable dent in your dinner funds for the rest of the month. your face must have screamed your thoughts because she lifts a finger before you can get a word out.

“sexy, okay? there are going to be nothing but goddesses and absolute babes there and i need you with me looking our best. what if i find my wife?” she’s resorted to begging now, her falsely too- innocent eyes wide and lips pouted as she awaits your answer. you grit your teeth, damn tara and her greed as you push past her to the back where walls of clothing are.

“your gluttony knows no bounds tara,” you mutter out loud enough for her to hear but it’s as if you told her she won a new car. you can’t help the roll of your eyes as she squeals in glee and trails you, hot on your heels as you sort through the racks and bins, stopping when you can only find costumes in sizes extra small to medium? you grab a random purple bra to hold it up to your friends view as if to say ‘seriously?’. it’s so small it doesn’t even span the width of your chest as you shake it at your friend who bursts out laughing.

“i didn’t realize you were stacked like that girl, your boyfriend suuure is lucky,” she gets out in between snickers, finding more joy than is appropriate considering she’s the one who put you in this predicament. your face gets impossibly hotter at the mention of sylus, who does at every moment he can, show you how much he appreciates how “stacked” you are, it’s been a few days since you’ve seen him last and you’re sure you’ve got a whole bunch of appreciation in store. you drop the bra with a carelessness as your mind wonders, ignoring how your cheeks heat up and continue to search until you find a few contenders.

“what do we think of these?” you’ve got a comically small burgundy thing in one hand that you hope gives more coverage than it seems and in the other you’ve got a clear package, stuffed full of black lace that just says ‘xxl’. tara studies them genuinely, takes the burgundy item out of your hands and stretches the fabric before humming appreciatively. she tries to do the same with the package before coming across a ‘not to be opened before sale’ sticker and walks them both to the register.

“wait tara, damn!” her little legs move her faster than you can conceptualize and you’re both at the front counter before you know it your friend shoving the items to the cashier before letting him know you wanted them both. you don’t even bother to protest, a slight sour in your mood as the screen reads two hundred and thirty five dollars. two hundred on scraps of cloth you know are just going to disintegrate in the wash in a month or two when the department bras were just as good. you open up your wallet, hovering over the wad of cash you brought with you but you hesitate, what if you needed to bring it back? company policies were the bane of your existence you decide as you use the only card currently in your wallet. the black metal is cool to the touch as you swipe it and hope to the powers of the universe that sylus won’t be checking his bank statements tonight.

-

it has to be a cruel joke from the gods you think when you pull up to your house and see his motorcycle parked in your driveway. on any other day you’d leap out to see him, run into his arms and smother him with kisses but if he asks about that bag you think you won’t make it out tonight with your functioning legs. you’ve already spent too much time trying to think of a way to hide the more scandalous parts of your day when you get fed up. this is your house, if you don’t want him to see what you’re bringing into it then he doesn’t need to see. you grit your teeth and steel your nerves as you walk into the front door, casually placing your keys and bags down on the table as you’re greeted by sylus.

“is everything alright, kitten?” his deep voice reverberating through the living room as he walks over to give you a hug, crimson eyes glinting over your tense expression with a care that makes you almost feel bad. he stops before you with open arms and you rush into them, he grips your ass with strong arms, the bands of his muscles flexing as he lifts you up and you wrap your legs around him. years of reassurance allowing you to finally trust that no matter what he will not drop you, won’t even fake a tremble as he holds you against him like you weigh nothing. notes of cedar and tobacco filling your nose as you melt into his warm embrace. the relief after days of no contact overrides your nerves as you two sway gently to no rhythm or noise.

“m’fine,” you mumble into his shoulder, everything from the last few hours forgotten as he sways you in his arms and peppers small kisses to the top of your head. your domestic bliss doesn’t last for too long, he spots the array of bags on the table, and taps your leg to let you know he’s about to relase you. you slide down the hard length of his body, already knowing the pink paper bag in a sea of basic greys is calling out for his attention.

he nods to the pile next to you, “you went shopping?” you try to be nonchalant, cursing your twitching lip as you shrug out a response.

“simone is having a party tonight and tara said i needed a wardrobe upgrade. i can stay home if you want though.” you throw out almost too fast. he leans back, silver eyebrow quirked in a way that matches the upturn of his lips. this game is nothing new, but still manages to be one of sylus’ favorite ways to spend time with you. after any intensive shopping it’s customary for you to show him your wares, impromptu fashion shows and esthetician sessions were his favorites of favorites. he lets you go to grab them and before you can protest, he’s got your wrist in one hand and is pulling you towards the open space of your living room.

“show me what we have today my dear,” he sets the bags on the floor and sits himself on the middle of the couch, long legs open wide and his hands folded behind his head as he gets comfortable. you let yourself sink down to the ground, landing with your legs crisscrossed as you start off with your original intended items, the mango shampoo you were running low on, the last melon perfume released by your favorite designer in the store, a new black tank top to replace your last stretched out one. the shoes you had an idea to wear to the party, just a pair of black pumps that could be mixed or matched with anything.

he’s watching you show your items like a merchant accumulating a crowd, a small smile on his lips and love in his eyes as you chirp about your travels and adventures for the day. your haul is mediocre, you gloss over the pink bag with a rushed ‘that’s for simone’s party i am returning it as soon as it is over.’

“now now sweetie, did i buy that for you?” your face heats up as you nod. because while you do have access to his endless bounds of money and power and treasures and riches— something he regularly chastised you for not taking advantage of— the thought of spending money you didn’t work for so recklessly leaves a bad taste in your mouth. and thus your current arrangement was born. he gives you his card— saving you from your self imposed embarrassment over having to ask for any whim you wanted fulfilled and he gets to provide for you all the same. there was only one rule, so small when you compare it to the vast wealth you’ve gained access to. he only wanted to see everything you bought.

“you know what time it is sweetie,” his adams apple bobs as he lets out a low chuckle and sits up. over the years this turned from a joke into a serious ritual, even when he’s the one making the purchase, even when he’s at the store with you when you purchase your items. when you get home you take your place on the ground as it has the most space, sylus gets the couch because of its viewpoint. it’s not often you hide things from him- outside of the occasional surprise birthday celebrations so he’s confident whatever is in the bag must be good. or bad. he’ll have an answer soon he tells himself as you muddle around with some excuses as to why you can’t show him.

“it’s for girls sy, you can’t see me in it.” a statement that piques his interest even more, has the wheels in his mind churning as you still pull out sheet after sheet of paper tissue from the hot pink bag.

your cheeks are hot as you get closer to the bottom, the items taunting you as they’re finally revealed to your eyes once more. the burgundy thing comes out first, the fabric scratchy as you hold it up to your body for him to see with shaky hands. he looks confused at the thneed like fabric, most likely imagining it on your body and you can’t be upset at his expression.

“what kind of party is it?” you laugh a little, flipping it around to study it from all angles. there were patches where the already thin fabric was cut into designs, gemstones on what could be an arm or a leg piece and a row of large holes down the middle of what you hoped was the back. it truly was a confusing piece.

“it’s… a lingerie party.. for her bachelorette or something or whatever i don’t know!” you throw your hands up in the air, missing the change in sylus in all of your exasperation. his ears have tinged pink, eyes blown wide as he takes in what you just said. you? in lingerie? that thing was lingerie? he looks over your body, traces all your curves and voluptuousness and looks back to the string of fabric in your hands and he can’t help the throbbing that starts between his legs at the thought of seeing you in it. your tired lace underwear was definitely not his favorite but he never wanted to pressure you into doing something that you had never brought up yourself.

“put it on.” the timbre of his voice stops your worried rambling almost immediately. you’re about to protest, tell him there’s no way you can fit into something like this but you do actually need to make sure you can wear it. this stupid two hundred and thirty dollar sock is going to be the bane of your existence but you shrug, bite down your uncertainties and begin to undress right there in the living room.

“i have one more option if this doesn’t work,” you let him know, intentionally keeping your tone casual as you undress. and while your nude body is nothing new to sylus, it seems as though he’s having a more difficult battle with impulsivity, the length of time he’s been away from your touch hitting him harder than usual as you take your shirt off. his hands twitch by his side as you peel your shirt up, leaving on your bra and revealing your soft rolls that he’s been dying to run his hands over for days.

your pants come off next, you lift your ass up and drag them down to your hips before they get stuck on your thighs. not for long as sylus is right there to pull them off, grabbing your sock covered ankle to keep you from falling flat on your back. he stares at where your stomach hangs over your mismatched underwear, transfixed by the mental imagery of what lies beyond the singular cloth barrier keeping him from where he wants to be the most. almost as if in a trance, his hand tightens against your leg before he lifts your ankle, his warm breath tickling your skin before he turns to plant a kiss on it. a gentle action that has your heartbeat quickening.

his silver hair falls into his face as he nuzzles your leg, his hand firmer in its grasp as he wets you with a slip of his tongue that pulls a gasp from you. your sound snaps him from your spell, a rumble from deep in his chest sounds throughout the room as he lets you go like you shocked him and sits back on the couch once more. his chest rising and falling as he looks at you, runs his hand over the bulge in his pants pants like it’s got a mind of its own. the sight is so delectable it has a heat pooling in your core.

“hands to yourself pal,” it sounds weak even to your own ears. you don’t mean to tease and sylus has always been a patient man but he’s already almost at the threshold of whatever wells of patience he has. he throws his head back and stares at the ceiling, cursing whoever has set up this cruel show and cursing your friends.

you crawl back slightly, just enough so you don’t bump into him as you rise to redress yourself. peeling the skinny tube open reveals two paths for your legs and you're surprised as the fabric grows to accommodate your thick thighs, the roundness of your belly and ample breasts. the tube top clings across your chest, as you pinch and pull the fabric around your body you’re surprised by how well it molds to you like a second skin.

you turn to look in the mirror and decide to forego the bra, the straps of it not aligning with the vision you had in your mind. your heart is pounding in your chest, you’ve never felt so exposed by an item of clothing you decide as you twirl around again, catching the way your ass is accentuated by the ruching of fabric and a chill runs through you settling between your thighs.

“okay what do you think?” you turn around to face him, hands behind your back as you and sylus feels his heart slam into his ribcage at the sight of you. the burgundy of the garment contrasts against the shade of your skin beautifully, the light catches the rhinestones at your ankles and trails up to the cutouts at your thighs, the fabric sheer as it stretches over your skin. he can’t help the shaky breath that leaves him as he takes in the trail of open circles from the top of your underwear to the softness off your stomach to the globes of your breasts.

“i think you should turn around,” says with a smirk, too casual for the twitching of his cock in his pants. too calm despite the dryness of his mouth at the sight of the back, completely see through save for a tiny v that continues from the front. he growls subconsciously as he stares, eyes roaming from your ass to your thighs, so lost in visions of kneading your supple flesh he doesn’t even notice you’ve turned around again until you’re waving your hands in front of his face. you let out the cutest giggle at his disheveled state, his hair tussled and framing his handsomely pink tinged face. his mouth agape as he tries and fails to come up with words to convey the depths of his hunger for you.

“who’s going to be at this party?” he asks as he rests his elbows on his thighs, a tinge of possessiveness dripping off his words at the idea of anyone who isn’t him seeing you in this way, party be damned. you sway back and forth as you think, not catching the way his eyes track the bouncing of your breasts as you move absentmindedly. certainly only women would be in attendance, tara had already informed you that there would be no strippers and you don’t want to feed into any doubt he may have.

“just simone and her bachelorettes, no strippers or men or male presenting peoples to my knowledge.” the reassurance is meant to be light, a pivot in attitude but you can tell by his stormy aura that it didn’t work.

he voices out a nothing response, a discontented growl and leans back, watching as you move through the bag for your mystery package and throw it on the couch beside him. he eyes it warily before flipping it over in his hands, inspecting it like it held the secret to eternal peace. the package itself was bigger than the bodysuit you had on— an observation that apparently in the world of lingerie didn’t mean much. but like the bodysuit he was sure it was going to make your ‘no touching’ rule much worse for him. he pops the button open and shakes the contents out on the couch beside him while you watch with curiosity.

once he has it all laid out you’re nervous again. a bra- completely sheer except for the lace on the sides, a g string that might as well be dental floss, a short robe and a pair of thigh high tights all have your hands clammy and your mind running. it’s all just so sheer you might as well be naked, the robe might have fallen from the xxl bag but it seemed like it could better serve as a wrap for a night out. there was absolutely no way you were wearing that to the party. you look at sylus as if he could read your thoughts and as if his would mirror your own but he is wrecked.

fiery eyes track your every move with the hunger of a predator stalking its prey, his lips are shiny and red from his own toying and biting. his eyebrow raised as he waits for you to undress, facial expression as calm as he can be despite the constant call of lust that’s been plaguing him since he saw the transaction notification on his phone. he’d spent the better part of an hour fixating on what you could have picked up at the ‘fantasy express’ and now that his sordid thoughts have actualized, it’s better than he could have ever dreamed in all of his lives. emboldened by the magnitude of his energy you reach for your top with shaky hands, rolling your eyes at the wolf whistle he gives while you undress again. the heat coming off of his body is compelling, nearly tempting you to make the small effort to crawl into his lap as you grab the bra and panties from beside him. the unintentional brush of your arm electric against his skin.

“still no touching?” a chuckle leaves your mouth at his question that you choose to ignore while you figure out the extra straps of your bra. you can feel the heat of him by your thigh, his legs spread open now, his long fingers toying with the outline of his dick through the fabric of his pants, a sight that knocks some wind out of you and causes your nipples to prick in the cool air of the living room. it’s with a heavy sigh you respond,

“still no touching.”

he groans audibly and runs a large hand down his chest and settles it where he burns the hottest, squeezing his hardness before he throws all hesitation to the wind. if this was the game you wanted to play, who was he to deny you? his eyes lock onto yours as he strokes himself once, freezing you in place with the intensity of his stare as he unzips the fly of his pants and frees himself. an unspoken challenge in the way he spits a wad of saliva in his hand and starts to work his dick at a torturously slow pace, breathy moans falling from his mouth. you squeeze your plush thighs together at the slick sounds of his hand sliding up and down his length, the pressure against your clit almost too pleasurable as you fidget.

“you never said i couldn’t touch myself kitten, i’m growing impatient with your little.. show.” it comes out as a growl, his hips buck up involuntarily as he teases himself even further by spreading the beads of precum that drip around the sensitive gland on the underside of his cock. hurriedly, you pull the lace over your heaving chest, adjusting so your nipples are visible from the front and cup your breasts before peeling your soaked panties off and placing them in sylus’ outstretched hand. your face is impossibly hot as he brings the fabric to his face, inhaling your scent with a moan before he licks up the wetness that you had been ignoring since he had kissed your ankle. you pull the thong on, the little triangle barely covering the heft of your pussy just like you predicted, the pressure of the thin string sliding through your creamy slit has your walls fluttering while you watch your boyfriend watch you.

“so.. what do you think?” it comes out breathy as you make a lame attempt to honor some pretense of ‘fashion show’ despite the haze of lust penetrating the room. even though he saw the preparation, he still can’t help the way his breath quickens as you stand in between his open legs, a flush from your ears to your neck as you bare yourself like an offering to him. he puts your soiled panties over his cock, lets the soaked fabric wrap around the thick length of him as he strokes himself with vigor, whines falling out of his cherry lips as he feasts his eyes upon your body. he wants to touch you everywhere, from your large breasts to your plush stomach to your round ass but especially your pretty puffy pussy. he licks his lips as he jerks himself, savoring the trails of sweet tang left behind and gives you a twirling motion with his finger.

you make an exaggerated twirl for him, bent over from the front causing your heavy tits to almost spill from the bra before you turn away to give him a view of your juicy ass. when you shake your hips in his face, your supple flesh jiggles in a way reminiscent of when he’s pounding into you and that’s what finally breaks his resolve. crumbles like dust in the wind and with a growl from deep in his chest he’s on you like a man possessed. he grabs your arm and pulls you down onto his lap, trapping his rock hard cock in between the wet junction of your ass and pussy with a juicy sounding smack. you barely have a second to gather yourself before he’s on you, large hands roaming your body— tweaking your nipples, squeezing the pudge of your stomach, digging his fingers into the fat of your thighs to rock you against him as he kisses the expanse of your soft skin.

“i think,” he starts, voice gravelly as he speaks into the skin of your neck, “that you just wanted my attention.”

he breaks his words up with kisses that send shivers down your spine and cloud your thoughts and senses. exaggerates the point of his theory with a slow roll of his hips that sends his dick sliding through your wetness and bumping against your clothed slit. a whine keens from your mouth at the contact, your head rolls back to rest on his shoulder as he moves his hands down your stomach, squeezing gently before deft fingers find your clothed clit and rub slow teasing circles into your center. he hums at the involuntary twitch of your hips, his cock throbbing in time with your movements as he guides you closer and closer to the edge with a practiced touch that has you close embarrassingly quick.

his body is solid underneath you, groans reverberating throughout his chest and vibrating your back as he leaves a wet path of sucks and bites from the back of your ear to his shoulder. your hips buck uncontrollably, drool falling from the corners of your mouth as white hot lust runs through you, heats your whole body from your core until you’re about to tip-

“sy! i- i’m close!” he never stops the movements of his fingers, rubbing over your hot pussy with multiple fingers, the friction stealing your breath as you come undone from his workings. a gush of cream leaks from your pussy and soaks sylus’ twitching cock and he grabs your thighs again, flipping you over before you have the opportunity to recover from the orgasm he stole from you. he drops you on your knees and forces your legs open with one of his strong thighs, the soft steel of his cock brushing against your thighs as he pushes your back down to force you into an arch for him. a vision that has him damn near drooling as your cheeks spread naturally. his eyes follow the trail of your g-string, the puckering of your asshole partially hidden by the stupid thing that clings soaked to your core almost completely swallowed by your swollen pussy lips.

he moves a finger up your pussy, relishing in the yell you give as he ghosts against your still sensitive bud before swiping up and down the length of the cloth with his fingernail. he’s tempted to fuck you now, to bully his fat cock into you and split you open with no preparation so that you may never tease him again but you shake your hips again. a small move that has creamy beads leaking from him and smearing on your ass and he swears his brain short circuits when you look at him over your shoulder, full lashes fluttering as you pout at the lack of anything inside of your spasming walls.

“you think you deserve my cock after that?” his tone is rough, a facade that’s bought by nobody as he grips his length and hooks your panties to the side. he swipes the spongy head of his dick through your puffy folds, the slickness aiding his glides and sounding out wetly throughout the room. he sighs blissfully when he catches on your hole, spreads your cheeks even further to watch with a fucked out grin as your soaked pussy begins to suck him in with no preparation. sweat sticks silver hair to his forehead as he’s slowly pulled into you further, each pulse of your silken walls heightening the pleasure he feels. he pulls out slightly, ignores your cry of protest and rolls his hips back into you, shoving half of his dick into you and splitting you open. he kisses your cheek softly, as if he wasn’t forcing inch after inch of his delicious thick cock into you poor swollen pussy. he fills you up to the hilt, the roughness of his pants against the back of your thighs is only there for a moment before he fucks into you with a brutal pace causing, cries to fall from your mouth and tears to fall from your eyes.

“nnghsah- a fashon sho-ow syy-“ you manage to gasp out in between punches to the back of your pussy, almost so overwhelming you can’t think of anything except for sylus. sylus inside of you. sylus on top of you. sylus filling you up with his seed. he pauses for a moment, the wet sounds of skin on skin pausing momentarily so he can grit out a mean,

“if you say so, kitten,” before resuming the bullying of your pussy with his cock.

your head bounces against the couch in time with his harsh thrusts, the burn of his dick being shoved into you fades quickly and is replaced by pleasure, another release approaching this one deeper, more full bodied. sylus can’t stop fucking you, can’t stop touching your soft supple body. his hands grip your ass and knead the flesh as he bounces you off of his hips, they move to your stomach to keep you in place as he angles himself up, pull at the lace of your bra to free and toy with a nipple, slide down your body again to caress your engorged clit. he drops his hips into you with a punishing deepness that pulls guttural groans from the deepest parts of your soul as he fucks you like he never wants you to part from him, like he could spend entire lifetimes inside of you. he collapses onto you as he nears his peak, kissing the sweat slicked skin of your back and licks up your saltiness with a contented sound from the back of his throat. his hips stutter as he feels that telltale thickness in his throat, a sharp lightning strike of pleasure runs through his body and turns the edges of his vision black as he comes forcefully inside of your messy cunt.

his breath comes out in pants as he spills inside of you, gush after gush triggering the fluttering of your own walls on his length. he slides out slowly, still breathing hard and he brings a large hand to wrap around your neck, pulling a wrecked gasp from your throat, sore from all of your screams and wails. his dick never gets soft as he finally pulls his pants down to his thighs as best as he can and begins to fuck you again, giving you sporadic hard thrusts before he picks up his punishing rhythm. his balls slapping against your clit, the contact making you jump and jiggling the excess flesh of your body in his favorite way as he repeatedly sheaths himself in you. your pussy clamps down on him chaotically as your second orgasm approaches. he can feel the way you’re about to come so he switches his angle, spreads your legs out as far as they can go and lowers his body to hit you right in your sweetest spot. the ridges and veins of his dick stroking that spot with every thrust, the spongy head of his dick blissfully painful as it kisses your cervix.

your body locks as you come undone for him. wave after wave of pleasure that that has you lightheaded and blissfully fucked out as tremors run through your whole body. a long shaky exhale you’re not aware of leaves you as you spasm around him, your gushy walls clenching and unclenching uncontrollably on his length so hard it stops him in his tracks. he grabs your asscheeks again, spreads them slowly and revels in the shiny strings connecting them together, a crazed laugh on the tip of his lips at the creamy mess that’s formed where you two meet and is leaking down onto the cushions of your couch. the thickness of your two juices stains the black of your g string, coloring it white as it absorbs what it can of your excess moisture. sylus’ dick twitches and he sighs wistfully at the sight, actions you feel and hear that causes you to look at him over your shoulder and roll your eyes at his dramatics.

“i think that you should not go to that party,” the laugh leaves his mouth this time, the sound loud and rich as he adjusts himself— still semi hard inside of you. you let out an involuntary moan as he pulls you up by your hefty hips, his length hardening impossibly as he moves, he’s waited days to have you and now that he’s got you here it would take an act of god for you to be free. a reality you had to be prepared for as your phone rings from somewhere beside the two of you. he grabs your phone before you can, scoffs when he sees tara’s name flashing on your screen and shuts it off before throwing it somewhere beyond.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

PART THREE: the confession

𝓦arnings : explicit smut (mixed with fluff!)

taking advice from claire’s words, you decided to confront patrick. you were tired of just being his best friend, of just being a fuck buddy. you wanted something real. and if he couldn’t give you that, then that was that. but you needed confirmation for if that was your reality or not.

it was tuesday.

friday had been the fight.

saturday you had a hangover.

sunday you prepared yourself.

on monday, he annoyingly skipped school that day.

so on tuesday, you drove to his house before he had time to leave for school. you didn’t care how it looked— reckless, desperate. you were in love.

patrick came outside, car keys in hand and his bag thrown over his shoulder. he stared directly at you as he walked to his truck. “we need to talk.” you said, countering him as he went to the drivers side, you slammed shut his door when he opened it and you leaned against it, facing him.

“okay. talk.” patrick said, jaw tensing. “I don’t like your attitude right now, patrick. it’s not a good look on you.” you snapped. patrick smirked slightly. “is that what you wanted to say?” “no. it’s not.” you didn’t bother making a sarcastic remark back. you were just tired of it all.

and honestly, so was patrick.

“I can’t do this anymore, patrick. I can’t just be your friend while we have sex every week and then just turn around and act like everything is normal, it’s not! we pretend like we aren’t checking eachother out and acting like we can’t fucking smell the tension. I’ve been your best friend for years.” your voice cracked then. “it hurts that we’re doing this. that you don’t want anything else than just to have sex. I’m so inlove with you, patrick. I can’t—I” you pause, wiping your makeup free eyes— you didn’t bother to do it today. “I don’t know what to say to you to make you want me.”

“jesus christ…” patrick put down his bag and keys right there in the road. he pinned you up against the truck door, and he kissed you— really kissed you. it wasn’t the type of kiss he’s given you before that says “we need to fuck, now.” it was deep, soothing, like everything you wanted to hear from him in one simple action. his lips were soft as his kiss almost drugged you. your hands come up and slowly wrap around his neck, you felt yourself dizzy from how intimate this felt.

one of his hands cradled your jaw, the other explored your back and waist. when he pulls back, he looks so fucking soft. “I never said I didn’t want ya, nor did I say I never wanted anything more.” he whispers softly, his lips were almost brushing yours from how close he was. “you’re my best friend, too, love. and I’m sorry I’ve been such an eejit. I should’ve asked you out ages ago. you’re such a perfect fuckin’ girl. I was scared of messing things up with ya. I’ve messed up relationships before, and I don’t want that for you. you’re too fuckin’ special to me. but if ya want me, too. then I’ll try. for you, I’ll try.”

his words took the breath clean out of your lungs, you had to just stare at him for a moment. “you really mean that, patrick?” your voice was soft, barley a whisper. “of course I mean that, love.” you kissed him again, your hands sliding down from his shoulders to grip his shirt, your fingers fisted in his tommen uniform. he pulled back just a breath away. “and just to clear up your pretty little head, I love you too.” your poor heart melted, you were completely gone for the boy, and as that thought came, it was like he read your mind with his next words. “I’m completely gone for ya, I don’t even feel ashamed to admit it. you’re everythin’ I could want.” you sighed. “oh, patrick. I wish you could’ve told me sooner.”

“I know, baby…so do I. so do I. but we’re past that, and I’m gonna give you all I can. all I got. alright?” he says, stroking your cheek. “yeah. okay.” you smiled happily, and you kissed again.

୨ৎ

you were giggling against his lips on the way upstairs to his room. his family wasn’t home. and both of you didn’t give a shit to skip school now. the confession just a minute ago had you so happy all you wanted to do was stay with him now.

patrick was kissing you like he was fucking starved. he kept kissing you when his hands slid up behind your thighs and lifted you up. your legs automatically wrapped around his hips— along with your arms around his shoulders. patrick pushed open his door and then kicked it back shut with his foot when he stepped inside. he lays you on the edge of the bed on your back, he took his shirt off with one hand over his head. patrick then scooted you back and crawled over you, kicking off his shoes behind him.

he was kissing your neck oh so good, your hand flew to his hair and you moaned. “you’re so beautiful, you taste like a fucking sweet and you sound even sweeter. my lovely girl. jesus, how the fuck did I end up with that?” patrick pulled back and just stared at you for a second, his hand pushed back your hair from your face. “listen, baby. I wanna make real love to ya. nothing like we were doin’ before. this is real to me. I take you seriously. and I only want to do this now if you’ll be my girl.” he leaned down and brushed a soft kiss to your forehead. “yes. yes, of course, patrick.” you smiled at him. “alright, then. you’re my girl.” he smiled back.

as patrick kissed you, you had let your legs fallen open, and he was grinding slowly against you fully clothed, the friction was delicious. you couldn’t help the soft whines that left your lips. patrick reached back and unclasped your bra. your shirt had been discarded a minute ago. his hands come up and his thumbs circle your nipples— knowing your weak spots. that caused you to gasp and arch into his touch, your hands fell beside your head, accessing yourself to him. “patrick..” you whispered, and he gave your soft curves a firm squeeze before kissing you again as he reached down with one hand and undoes his belt.

once you we’re both fully naked, patrick lied you properly back on his pillows, he gets under the covers with you— the blanket pulled up to his shoulders.

he hikes one of your legs up. “look at you. pretty as ever.” he said lowly. patrick lines the thick head of his cock aganist your entrance, and glanced up at you as he pushed himself all the way inside of you, your hands flew to his back. he always stretched you so perfectly.

“you’re so tight— and oh fuck. you’re warm. goddamn, baby. I ain’t gonna last this time.” that made you laugh. he smirked and started to fuck you without warning. the bed was instantly rocking and the headboard slammed repeatedly against the wall. “oh..patrick, yes!” you cried, breathing heavily as he roughly fucked you into the mattress your back arching so your chests are touching. “fuck, baby. you’re squeezin’ me just right. holy shit.” he groaned, panting as well. his left forearm was over your head, his right hand was gripping your hip to go deeper inside of you.

you wrapped your legs around his hips then, making his cock sink deeper into your pussy. the head found your sweet spot, and you let him know. “pat, right there. mmm…god.” you cupped his face and kissed him, just feeling yourself get more wet once he moaned into your mouth. patrick repeatedly pounded your pussy, the sounds of skin and wetness filled the room— along with his grunts and your unfiltered moans, that is.

“I’m coming, I’m fucking coming.” he choked out, he let out a groan— and soon enough you felt him release himself inside of you, it made you come with him— the pleasure and pressure inside of you from him filling you up was too much. too good. heat spread through your body as you held his back and grinded your hips upwards, riding out the sweet relief.

“jesus, baby…” patrick panted. he pulls back and looked at your face. “you’re fuckin’ amazin’. I love you.” he said before his lips crashed onto yours.

a month later . . .

you’d never felt happier than you did now.

your relationship was full of love, life and happiness. this has been all you wanted with him, everything past you wished for. and you have that now.

“patrick!” you squealed, running up to him, your pink sundress flowing at your knees.

you guys had been playing around in his farms lawn all afternoon. he spun around to face you, he was in a white tank top and jeans. “oh shit!” he yelled, his arms flying out to catch you when you suddenly jumped into his arms. once he caught you off balanced; he fell backwards and you both went down.

you just laughed. and so did he— too damn happy and inlove to care about the green stains from the ground probably all over the two of you. “you’re somethin’ else, baby. yknow that?” he laughed, sitting up on his elbow. when you stayed ontop of him, your hands rested on his chest. “hmmm. you love it. you wouldn’t have it any other way.” he smiled widely— he looked really happy. so happy it made your heart warm. “hell nah. I really wouldn’t.” he whispers, and he lies back, pulling you with him and he kisses you.

“I’m so fuckin’ inlove with you. you’re everything.” he pulled back to look up into your eyes. “I love you, patrick feely. you’re my best friend.” you whisper, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “and I love you, darlin’. I’m gonna keep lovin’ you harder each day.”

thank you for reading my mini series! I appreciate all the love and feedback I’ve gotten recently, you guys are so sweet and it means so much to me.

@leftbyjb thank you again for giving me this request angel. your idea honestly helped me practice more on my writing and I thought it was very creative. I’ve had so much fun writing love me harder.

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you sat upon the drooping steps of your rickety porch that was built poorly upon your trailer. The makeshift awning somewhat covering you from the warm and blinding ray that the sun provided, a gentle breeze blowing through, make your wind chimes well known.

looking to the source of the sound, you had a plethora of wind chimes, some store bought, some home made, and some were very special.

a cheap butterfly, a big dent in its body, one of the chimes had been torn, and replaced with beer caps, rings and pieces of glass.

an old dry blunt lay curled in one of its antennas, it swung along with the wind, making a harmonious melody with all the others.

it was maybe one of the tackiest ones, but it was your favorite.

on you and pilots first date at some rundown diner, he couldn’t secure the perfect gift. He claimed it was going to woo you over.

that was before he found out he was broker than shit to get you the extravagant bundle of flowers he was planning to suprise you with.

so a last minute trip at a practically abandoned antique shop, he presented a busted up butterfly wind chime. It was far from perfect, to anyone else, that was.

to you, it was more valuable than gold.

that crappy wind chime was the sole reason you had a uncountable now, littering your small yard wherever you could hang one.

you smiled at it, admiring how the sun glinted off the busted up metal.

you shifted your knees, looking down to your sneakers, littered with writing done by pilot, all kinds of scribbles and drawings, lyrics of songs you would remember even if you became a vegetable.

Mismatched laces with an assortment of beads ran on them, also not matching. you remember giving Pilot free reign of decorating your skinners, you smiled widely at the memory of when he discovered all your beads, how his eyes glimmered on certain colors and patterns, especially at the glittery ones.

your arms rested upon your knees, clad in your favorite jeans, embroidered butterflies on the back pockets.

your foot tapped rhythmically to an unheard melody in your head, your eyes following the way the leaves fluttered carelessly upon their branches.

broken away from your thoughts as your ears perked up to the sound of gravel crunching, your head swinging to the source of the sound, like a dog who knows when their owners home.

buzzing with excitement, you smiled wide at the sight of him, dressed as usually in that abrasively green visor, with that lazily grin upon his lips, even from afar.

you waited somewhat… patiently, as he trekked through the trailer park, tripping over a stray beer can left over from a rambunctious neighbor. you erupted with giggles as he played up his fall.

soon he came bounding towards you, practically trampling you and meshing you with th steps as he let his weight fall upon you. making you let out a guffaw and laugh more, hands shifting upon his body to try and push him off.

fingers curling tight into his thin button up that he layered with you shoved him off playfully, no real threat in your movements. stumbling back pilot smiled wide at you, shining brighter than the sun, which shone down on him as of currently, highlighting his gelled up hair, a green glow due to his visor upon his face.

both of you looked at eachother for a minute and giggled, a secret language only you two understood.

your head tilted up to look at him, squinting slightly from the bright sun, pilot let out another giggle before grabbing porch rail and sitting down clumsily, shaking the poorly made craft.

“easy! I can’t afford to fix this thing if you fuck up.” you chastised, your smile never leaving your face despite your words.

your eyes trailed over his face, flickering to his lips before turning your head. Watching two stray cats fight in the distance.

“I don’t want to ask my neighbor to help again, half the time building this was just spent ogling me.” you shivered at the thought.

“I could’ve helped you y’know..” he chimes in. Still grinning, knowing damn well if pilot helped you with building something it would’ve ended up looking like a side act at a carnival.

“yeah right, if you helped me this porch would’ve ended upside down somehow.” you teased.

before pilot could continue your worthless banter, the crinkle of a plastic bag he held caught your attention, arching a brow. seeing a collection of blunts shoved in there.

you watched as he grabbed one haphazardly and put it between his lips, glancing to you and grabbing another out of the messy bag, handing it to you.

you were never one for drugs, your whole life you swayed away from that sort of thing, it scared you how it could mess with people’s minds.

you weren’t big on anything else, but weed was one of the only things he did persuade you into, only for him.

You fitted it between your fingers, staring attentively at how he wrapped it, you hummed, wiggling it before hearing the click of his lighter, some crappy looney tunes one you got for him at a garage sale couple weeks back. leaning your hand over for a light, but he refused to light it like that. “Cmon put in-“ he mumbled, nodding towards your lips, making you raise a brow and grin, amused. “How romantic.” you hummed, placing it between your lips hesitantly, still nervous. Even with his presence.

he shifted closer, your knees touching now as he lit it, pretty blue eyes fixed on your lips. A light faded scar lay upon the middle of your lip, due to your habit of chewing your lip and pulling the skin roughly, he remembered how bad it bled that day, whenever you too kissed he made sure to run his tongue over it a few times.

he leaned away, finally. Roughly shoving the lighter in his pocket, setting the flimsy plastic bag aside. Your eyes meeting lazily , you took a deep inhale, before turning and blowing smoke away from him, eyes flickering all over his face.

He did the same.

Sitting like that for a while, knees touching. smoking quietly together in one another’s presence.

he was taking a lot more hits than you, you hummed watching him, before breaking the silence.

“You want something to eat? Can’t smoke weed all day.” You doubted that, you know you couldn’t, but knowing Pilot..

he nodded. “Whadya got?” Those big doe eyes fixated on you made you gulp thickly, looking down. “how about like oranges or something right now? maybe later we’ll have some sandwiches.” you looked back up, letting out a breath as your eyes met again. “Sound good?” He nodded, you handed him the blunt, leaping up nervously, shy of your own boyfriend, you laughed lightly at the thought as you opened your dingy screen door, disappearing for a few seconds.

you returned with two large oranges, sitting back down, handing it to him.

setting his blunt aside,

you watched as he practically tore into it with childlike excitement, digging his finger nails into the skin, peeling it away messily.

watching with curiosity, he messily shoved a slice into his mouth.

just as you were about to focus on your own orange, he bit down messily before the rest of the slice even got in his mouth, juice spilling everywhere.

Your pupils dilated as you saw it spill past his lips and down his chin.

Pilot didn’t seem too bothered, shoving a couple more into his mouth, more juice trickling down from his chin to his throat, slipping past his bobbing Adam’s apple.

You watched with intense interest, your breathing heavy. The weed slowly going in your system not helping. Your whole body buzzing with warmth.

Pilot chewed noisily before gulping, his eyes flickered to you.

You looked like a cat about to pounce, your had unconsciously digging hard into your jeans.

He let out a laugh at your state, his neck glistening with orange juice, a couple droplets resting upon his sun-kissed skin.

“Are you buggin?” He hummed, intrigued.

He lifted his hand to wipe it off but you reacted quickly, clutching his wrist and sitting closer, thighs meshing together.

“You could say that.” You mumbled out, your eyes finally going to his again.

“messy eater huh?” you shifted close against him, leaning into him, god he was so warm, it wasn’t helping your situation.

His eyes were hooded, a lazily grin on his lips, his had maneuvering to lock fingers with yours, usually you weren’t this bold. In Pilots mind introducing weed to you was better than bread and butter.

“you could say that…” he echoed you, smiling proudly.

the two of you pressed impossibly close, his hands trailing to your sides, squeezing your hips experimentally.

You let out a soft laugh, tilting your head to dodge his visor, before closing the small gap.

Your lips met, locking on one another, your hands traveling to his neck, one getting lost in his messy hair, the on his shoulder, pulling him closer, somehow..

his tongue lazily slid on your bottom lip, requiring entrance, which you happily obliged.

He let out a moan of approval, followed by a whimper from you.

His hands were warm, resting on the small of your back, resting teasingly under your tank-top.

Giggling into each others mouths, your tongues doing a careless dance together. Letting out a symphony sounds of enjoyment, you pulled away, immediately going down to his neck, licking up the column of it, savoring the taste of oranges.

He groaned, he pushed you closer instinctively. you pressed soft kisses up his throat, kissing stray moles and freckles that the sun granted.

You nipped a couple times, before working back up to his mouth, sighing as your lips met again.

your tongues traveled in his mouth, feeing his teeth, sucking softly on his canines, eliciting moans from him.

“god..fuck” he laughed giddily.

pulling away reluctantly, you stared at eachother for a long time.

your hooded eyes looked down to his hard-on and smiled, teasingly palm him, watching his face scrunch up before the two of you laughed again.

“how about those sandwiches?” You suggested.

“alright..” he hummed.