requests closed for a sec cuz I need to catch up-

after standing around like an absolute idiot, jason finally kicks his feet up and strides after you.

get the girl, he screams to himself. get her back.

he calls out your name while he jogs, turning his head in all directions to spot you among the late night campus fog. what the hell was he even thinking letting you walk away? you’re drunk and upset, there was no way in hell he’d let you walk home by yourself this late at night, not even if you hated him.

no one else was around at this hour, they were all at clubs, parties or sleeping. it shouldn’t be hard to find you. he definitely didn’t want you walking all by yourself and this upset. for a couple minutes he couldn’t find you anywhere, and you weren’t going to respond to his desperate calls of your name.

but then he sees you, sniffling to yourself on the curb by your complex. with slow, quiet steps, he moves in behind you and slips right next to you on the curb. you don’t even look up to know it’s him. you don’t say anything either, just take a ragged breath and wipe your tears on your sleeve. he decides to bite the bullet and shakily says your name.

“i’m sorry. i’m so so fucking sorry.” he tries, “i should’ve told you sooner.”

you don’t say anything for a moment, trying to compose yourself as the silent tears dissipated and his voice went cold again. the wind from the cold winter air pushed past your wet face and cools the bare skin on your neck. but it didn’t matter. the feeling hardly grounded you in the soft winds that held no meaning behind its intense pulses. finally you stand and he follows after you.

with tearful eyes, you look up at him just to silently plead for him not to follow you again when all you wanted was peace and quiet. all you wanted was to have a moment to process this newfound information beyond the devastating hatred you felt right now.

he lets out a shaky breath, speaking as softly as he can, “i’m not letting you walk home alone like this. you don’t have to talk to me but, don’t ask me to leave cause i won’t.”

you don’t protest but the words slip past your lips in your drunken haze before you can help it.

“i hate you jason,” lip trembling as you walked alongside him.

“no you don’t,” he sighs, hands shoved deep into his pockets, “the same way i could never hate you princess.”

“i do. i really do. i hate the way you walk and that stupid tuft of white in your hair.”

his eyes soften, looking up to watch your face as you pretended not to feel his gaze. you go on.

“i hate the way you look at me and the way your friends know me. i hate that you’re grayson’s brother and i can’t escape you. i hate that you’re in all my fucking classes and even school won’t take me away from you.” you pause to stop yourself from crying, but it was too late, the tears flowed.

you took a shaky breath and bit your bottom lip, silencing your words and trying to keep unbothered. but you were so bothered by this, by him, by the disruption he had caused to your quiet life before him. just months ago, you had this simpler existence where you were on track to graduate with honours. no worry of any boy or any person who could have this much power over you. now you’re crying on your way home from a frat party because the boy you like was just using you for a bet.

like he reads your thoughts, jason stops his movements. he gently grabs your arm, pulling you closer to him as he watches you pretend like what you felt for him was hate.

“what else?” he tries, furrowing his brows down at you, “what else do you hate about me?”

you scoff softly but continue anyway, “i hate that you know me and can act like you care. i hate that shit so badly jason, and you don’t even really know me. fuck, i don’t really even know you.”

he bites his tongue, trying not to scream out loud, but i know you, i know you so well. i’ve watched you for months. i’ve loved you for longer.

he knows right now they will fall on ears that don’t trust any of his words and he couldn’t blame you. he doesn’t deserve trust right now.

for a moment he lets the silence cling and the reckoning pull both of you underneath the pain of what couldn’t been. what would have been if he wasn’t such an idiot and if his love was something he believed was worthy of giving out. that it was something he was capable of receiving. you sniffle and shuffle backwards. he lets you.

you choke on a strangled sob, turning around so he wouldn’t see the tears soaking your cheeks.

“most of all, i hate myself because i can’t hate you at all.”

and his heart completely crumbles.

in a second he whispers your name, “please don’t walk away from me again. let me prove it to you. let me apologize.”

but it’s too late and you’re walking away and to your front door that he’d walked you to. you don’t turn back, just shuffle away as he watches.

his words falling empty because you’d convinced yourself, that this wasn’t something he took seriously. the door shut behind you with a sound that he swore he would have to become accustom to.

jason knew then—he ruined everything.

the next several days, jason called, texted, showed up at your front door. he sent flowers and groceries. he cooked the same pasta he made you on your first date and left it at your front door when you wouldn’t open it and he knew you were inside.

“i’m just going to leave this here, okay?”

you threw it out. you threw all of it out.

this wasn’t forgiveness. what he was doing wasn’t proving anything to you. all it did was tell you that he was guilty and rightfully so.

instead you poured your heart into school, into your internship and into your job. you told yourself that the life you had before him was enough for a reason. losing your virginity based off of a bet isn’t the worst thing in the world and it was okay. you asked him to do it right? so it wasn’t so bad that all he wanted out of it was just sex.

and you decided that love maybe just wasn’t in the cards for you, at least not yet.

it had been nearly two weeks since you last saw jason todd, but man he kept trying.

you were purposefully ignoring his presence and walking past him when he tried to stop you outside of the lecture halls. anxiously scratching the back of his head in the way you understood all too well.

but you ignored it, as much as it hurt.

how do you form a relationship based off a bet?

it’s not like ignoring him is easy to do either because he was desperately trying to talk to you, fiddling with his fingers when he saw how little you wanted to see him. you walked past him all the same because what he had done was unforgivable.

when you did see him, it wasn’t by choice.

you need a distraction from him, so working with him was absolutely not an option.

right now you’re settled in your practical, sitting by your new partner while the professor settled in. when you emailed the professor and begged him for a new partner, you were randomly assigned with whoever was available. what you didn’t think about, was that jason todd’s bestfriend and partner in crime was the one being assigned to you—roy harper.

roy smiles at you, small and nervous, “hey, uh, i can ask him to let me switch again, i really don’t mind working alone.”

without looking up, you shake your head, “no, it’s fine. we’re both adults.”

he nods slowly, “right.” clearing his throat before turning to you fully, “are you still part of the research team?”

you nod again, not wanting to actually hold a conversation with his guy whose literally made a bet based on your damn virginity. looking down to your laptop to open a document and turn it towards him.

“nice, cool. sick. it’s like you’re a grad student or something.”

you don’t respond, just give him a small smile and look forward to your prof setting up his things. the professor is pulling out his laptop and stack of papers to lecture you. you already did the readings, you had to because it was keeping you from thinking about all the things that went wrong.

you can feel his presence as soon as he enters the room because it was smaller than the lecture hall. this was a room of 30 students and jason’s tall stature could not go unnoticed. not those big arms of his or those shoulders you wanted to bite. he tries to approach you, saying your name like he’d been practicing it on the way inside.

“i’m sorry, i know you don’t wanna talk about that but um, should we discuss the paper?”

you hardly move your gaze upwards, still trying not to acknowledge him even while he towers over you. he doesn’t budge or try to move so you speak, “we don’t need to discuss it.”

he sighs softly, “i get it, you don’t wanna see my face. i can just do my part separately and add it to the document—” you don’t let him speak.

“that’s not necessary, i have a new partner.”

jason freezes. roy looks up from next to you and he gives jason a small wave with just three of his fingers.

now jason is alone, with no group member.

he stammers, gripping the strap of his backpack a little tighter, “but i thought we’re partners…”

you pay little mind to him, “you can use the research we did before cause i already picked a new topic,” humming as you trail your gaze up the projector screen as your professor begins to log in. “so you’re alone now, just like you wanted.”

harsher than you meant to sound. meaner than you originally thought it would sound. your partner next to you clearly saw the tension, grimacing softly before burying his face behind his phone screen.

“right,” jason says softly, gaze locking on the side of your face, “sorry for bothering you.”

and he walks away.

part of you felt bad for responding to him that way. that softer part that still had love for him tried to convince you to apologize. but jason hurt you. he let you love him while he didn’t care enough to tell you the truth. he lied about your relationship to your face multiple times and probably would’ve continued if you roy hadn’t exposed him in front of you. that feeling of unease wasn’t for nothing—he used you.

so no, you didn’t feel bad anymore, he can go fuck himself. you’re an adult, yes, but he’s an asshole. he had a choice and he made a shitty one that came at the cost of you, and he didn’t care.

you sniff softly as you open a document with your class notes on your laptop, starting to type out the title for today’s lecture—wrongful convictions.

“hey, can we please ta—” you don’t even acknowledge his presence, just continue walking past him in the lecture hall and out of the door.

without having to turn around, you knew he was following you, but you slip your headphones off to drive the point across—leave me the fuck alone. jason’s eyes meet yours, wild and strained, though he nods in understanding and steps out of your way.

you don’t turn around to confirm that he’s not following you. you don’t sigh to show you were annoyed. you don’t move out of turn in any regard besides putting your headphones right back on. but you knew, you felt it, his gaze hard on your back, seeping through your clothes. undressing you without meaning to because you were doing the same to him. even if you told yourself you didn’t want him, or want to see him ever again, that feeling of his warm body pressing yours into his mattress. the soft pants that escaped him everytime you made out, holding you like something entirely sacred that was worthy of being worshipped. he made you feel, god, he made you want in way you never have wanted before. jason todd made you bloom and that made you fall so hard. though it was a lie, and you had to remember.

you have to protect yourself first.

you’re barely ever home now.

the research opportunity the professor offered you was more work than you ever thought it would be. you’re busy finding subjects to be interviewed, legal experts who are willing so share their opinions and students who will join low stakes questioning on campus.

on the way to your apartment, you run into grayson. his hands tucked into his pockets when he sees you and starts towards you, calling out your name.

“hey,” he smiles all gummy and bright, “where have you been? missed ya,” striding along to keep up with you.

“you know, school shit.” dismissive as ever.

“that’s never kept you from answering my texts before,” huffing alongside you, “why are you walking so fast dude, jeez.”

“i gotta get home, you know. it’s been a long day and i just wanna lay down grayson.”

“grayson?” he questions, slowing down as you continue to walk forward, “did i do something?”

you sigh, stopping your legs and turning back to him, “no, what could you have possibly done? i’m just exhausted is all.”

he scratches his head, the same nervous tick his non-biological brother had that you tried not to think about.

then he sighs softly, “i dunno dude. you called me grayson. you never call me my full government name. and you haven’t texted me back in like a solid two weeks. clearly i’ve done something or maybe i’ve suddenly grown a hideous wart on my face that i can’t see,” splaying with dramatics, “can you at least tell me what i did?”

you let out an exasperated sigh, “you didn’t do anything, just drop it.”

he contemplates, staring at you in the way he always does when he’s turning something over in his mind. he blinks slowly before moving in a little closer.

“did my brother do something to you?”

instinctively, you flinch slightly before huffing a small laugh. “i don’t want you involved gray.”

a soft sigh escapes him as he says your name, “please? you’ve been ghosting me for two weeks, i just want to know, is it his doing?”

you stare at his genuineness and the crinkle around his eyes as he blinks at you. hopeful and still utterly unaware of how his earlier words had made you trust jason even more, claiming, my brother is responsible and sensible and he’s a good guy. you replay his words in your mind from that morning when he caught you leaving jason’s room, he must really like you.

you don’t want grayson to blame himself, cause it wasn’t his fault. but you couldn’t lie for jason. you weren’t gonna hurt grayson into thinking this was his fault. so you offer a small smile.

“ask him about it.”

grayson sighs before you can walk away, touching your shoulder, “okay, okay, fine. i’ll ask him. i won’t bother you about it again. but i miss you. i miss my bestfriend and bruce keeps sending me pictures of us from the manor asking when you’re gonna come over again.”

with reluctance, you pull grayson into a hug, sucking in a sharp breath of air to keep yourself from tearing up and failing horribly.

you hadn’t let yourself really feel what had happened, just shoved it down so far that it bubbled up into frustration. you buried yourself in work, offering up more hours to your professors research study and taking up another campus opportunity to tutor first years. you were trying so hard not to think about this for reasons you weren’t even sure about because of how little you tried thinking of anything but schoolwork. this used to be your favourite thing to do, your passion, but now it’s your escape. you hadn’t even told anyone about what had happened, just kept yourself isolated to pretend like you were moving right on. then grayson asked you, didn’t pry it out of you but genuinely asked you, and you couldn’t do it anymore.

muttering against his shoulder, “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to ghost you, i’m just kinda busy and dealing with stuff. it’s not on you and i shouldn’t have made you feel like it was.”

“don’t apologize to me, just talk to me like we used to,” he pulls back, noticing a tear on your cheek that you struggled to hold back in all of these last two weeks. he frowns and wipes it with his thumb, “jeez, i’m sorry, fuck, what did he do?”

you sniffle, laughing softly as you pull away, “i told you to go ask him. he should tell you.”

slowly, he nods, letting you step back away from him and your brief emotional outbreak. “just, come over more okay? i’ll get him to leave you alone, i’ll make him leave if you’re there but just seriously come over. i really do miss you.”

you nod, letting grayson pull you into another hug that you knew you needed. you melt into it, mentally pushing down the feelings and emotions that threatened to boil over before pulling away again and promising to come over sometime this week.

and then you walk away.

this time grayson doesn’t stop you but his mind reels and his feet move with purpose because he needed to know what happened.

the house is pretty quiet when he gets back.

wally and hal are watching some game on the television with pledges sitting around them, bringing snacks and standing silently when not addressed. conner and tim are sitting in the kitchen with roy cooking something that looked like two much for the three of them. grayson blinks around the room looking for his brother and doesn’t find him. roy looks up.

“who you looking for?”

“my brother. you seen him?”

roy shakes his head, seasoning his ground beef and stirring it on the stove.

“great. you’re just as useless as the rest of them.” he sighs, opening the fridge to crack open a beer.

roy snickers, “trouble in paradise president? is zatanna still trying to get back into your bed?”

tim hums, “yeah, more like dick is the one trying to get into hers.”

“no,” grayson murmurs, taking a long swig, “she’s actually with john. like for real this time cause she said they’re working shit out. whatever the fuck that means.”

conner fiddles with his lip piercing, playing with the ball at the end and grinning at grayson, “don’t worry dude, you and her are like magnets. plus wasn’t she jealous of that girl your brother is seeing? she’ll come crawling back when she notices that they broke up too.”

with his back turned, roy tenses. then he opens the oven and pulls out his potatoes to turn them over. vigilant as ever, grayson notices, taking a long swig and shooing conner and tim out of the room. they stagger, spoon in their mouths as they waddle over to the living room to eat there.

roy shoves the pan back into the oven and turns it up to 400f.

“spill it harper. what do you know?” grayson starts, setting his beer on the counter.

“what do you mean?” he turns, wiping his hands on his stolen apron.

“something happened between her and my brother. i know he had to have told you or something cause she’s hardly speaking to me and i haven’t seen him home in days.”

roy sighs, “it’s kinda stupid. well honestly it is stupid and it’s my fault.”

grayson furrows his brows, “go on…”

“we made, well, i made a stupid bet and jason felt pressured into acting on it,” tearing his apron off and folding it before tucking it into the drawer under the oven, “i kinda thought i was helping since he was scared to ask her out but now jason’s moping around and she’s hella dry when i text her about our assignment.”

“assignment? i thought she was jason’s partner?”

he nods, “they were until she asked to switch and now she’s stuck with me.”

“and this bet? what was it?” already growing restless and annoyed with roy.

“i kinda told him that, if he didn’t ya know, get with her that i would,” he avoids his gaze as grayson stands up, “but i didn’t! i swear, i wouldn’t have, i just wanted to pressure him into asking her out. i didn’t know that he’d really follow through with it!” raising his hands in surrender.

“you fucking idiot. you bet on what? him sleeping with her?” walking closer to roy as he keeps his hands raised.

“okay yes, at first but i didn’t think he actually would!”

grayson groans, dragging a hand down his face and leaning against the counter, “fuck now it makes sense why she wouldn’t talk to me. you idiots could’ve chosen literally anyone else jeez fuck.”

“look, it’s my fault. it really is.”

“yeah no shit, but it’s also jays!” he yells, “you guys act like fucking high schoolers when you’re both twenty somethings.”

roy truthfully did feel bad for what he did, he nods along and takes the verbal abuse because he knew he fucked up. contributing a couple quiet, you’re rights and sighing softly when grayson lectured on like the big brother he is.

after nearly half an hour of laying it thickly on roy, grayson steps back, watching his posture slouched and half of his meal prep burnt. grayson finishes off his beer and throws it in the recycling bin.

“now where the hell is my idiot brother?”

roy shrugs, “i haven’t seen him all week. he’s avoiding me like the plague.”

grayson gives a small annoyed smile, “good for him. you are the fucking plague.”

at the library with roy for second time, it’s just as awkward as the first.

he’s sitting there, tapping his foot and squinting hard at the screen in front of him, sighing and rubbing his hand over his face like he’s confused. after the first hour, you turn to him annoyed.

“can you stop that? it’s really distracting.”

“sorry, i just don’t get what any of this shit means. legal precedent? cease and desist orders? what the hell does it have to do with ethics?”

you sigh, closing your laptop to look at his. you read over the work he was doing and immediately spot his faults, highlighting the articles that had no business being on his screen and sharing the document with yourself.

“it’s cause you’re comparing your notes to a random article you found online. these aren’t peer reviewed so they make no sense.” opening up a new tab and searching up your schools research database, “here, only search for stuff from here.”

roy nods at you then the screen, smiling softly, “thanks.”

turning back to your own screen you mutter, “don’t mention it.”

the two of you go silent for another twenty minutes, occasionally looking over to make sure he was staying on track. you couldn’t help but think about how jason challenged you. how when you worked with him, his mind matched yours and the two of you could hold an intellectual conversation that didn’t feel forced. not that roy was a complete idiot, just that he didn’t care enough to really understand the concepts let alone do the readings. you just missed jason.

you sigh as you stand and grab your coat.

roy lifts his head, “you leaving?”

shaking your head, you pull your arms through the sleeves, “no i’m just gonna go get some air.”

and you’re about to leave him behind to go stand outside when you spot a familiar black haired boy standing against the brick walls. you stop dead in your tracks. the orange glow between his fingers growing bright as he pulls hard and huffs out a cloud of smoke that engulfs him again. his head leaning against the bricks and his eyes looking entirely worn out and sunken in.

something in your heart pangs, because he looks utterly exhausted. overworked and under appreciated even though he fucked with your heart just weeks prior.

roy notices, his eyes follow your gaze and find his bestfriend leaning against the wall outside of the library. jason lifts his free hand to rub between his eyes, the bridge of his nose turning red from how roughly he was doing it. too busy in his own head to realize anyone was watching him.

with a heavy sigh, you take off your coat and sit next to roy again. reopening your laptop when you feel him staring at you.

“what?” you ask, annoyance heavy in your tone.

but roy softens his voice, “i’m sorry.”

you turn to him, bewildered by his sudden apology. “i don’t care. don’t apologize to me for your own conscience harper.”

he sighs, “no, i mean i’m sorry for ruining,” gesturing in the air between you and jason, “that. the two of you.”

you shrug, feigning nonchalance to mask the hurt you felt deeply, “whatever, it wasn’t serious anyways. we just hooked up. who cares.”

“he does. he really does and he’s too much of a loser to have come up to you and tell you that.” he sighs this time, “it’s my fault that he even did it. i told him to or else i—”

“look roy,” you interrupt, “i really don’t care about what you and your boys talk about and i especially don’t give a shit about how many high fives you guys exchange when you discuss the girls you’ve slept with. so don’t apologize to me for being exactly who i thought you were and just finish your part so we never have to see eachother again.”

with a soft scoff, he nods and leans back in his chair, “i see why he likes you so much.”

you groan into your hand when he interrupts, “just let me finish and i won’t tell you again,” watching you drop your hands and reluctantly nod, “jason liked you alot and i pushed him into sleeping with you.”

watching you tense as he says the words, he lowers his voice, continuing, “—and i knew he did because he wouldn’t shut up about you for months and it was pissing me off cause he’s a wuss,”

you felt your body growing warm and bit your lip as you nodded for him to continue.

“so don’t blame him or grayson, blame me. i’m the one that told him to do it or i’d try sleeping with you.”

at that you laughed in his face, “oh please, like i’d sleep with you.”

he looks genuinely offended, “hey, i’m pretty irresistible.”

“yeah okay ed sheeran look alike.”

roy stammers, “wha? i’m here pouring out my heart to you and admitting my wrong doings and you’re making fun of me?”

you shrug, grabbing your stuff and pretending like his words didn’t give you a brand new perspective to work with. you shove your stuff into your bag, “you make it easy to make fun of you. you’re a womanizer, lowkey a slut,”

he interrupts, “highkey. i worked hard for that title, but go on,”

“—a sleezebag who exploits his own bestfriend and an idiot who doesn’t know the difference between criminal and corporate law when your whole degree is based on knowing the damn difference.”

“fine but can you actually think about what i said.”

with one last glance out the window, you find that jason was no longer there but your feelings for him remained. roy’s words fell heavy on your heart and you couldn’t help but feel like jason really did just make a shitty choice. you knew jason well enough to know he was susceptible to peer pressure when it came from someone he cared about. something told you he truly did believe that he would lose you to roy if he hadn’t acted but it didn’t excuse the fact that he didn’t even try to build something beforehand.

shoving your phone into your pocket and slinging your bag over your shoulder, you pushed your chair in, “no promises.”

walking back to your place from the library, roy gave you alot to think about.

you walked to the campus bistro and grabbed baked goods to soothe your own feelings. chocolate croissants, twisted cinnamon donuts, a fresh baguette and almond croissants. the light blue box clutched in your palms, you made your walk down the pathway with the intention of going home, watching criminal minds and stuffing your face.

the chilly winds sent pieces of your hair behind you while you took long strides trying to get back to your place.

if what roy was saying is true, then maybe jason really didn’t want to hurt to you but in his own fucked up twisted way, he was protecting you?

it’s hard to try and rationalize it because he could’ve gone about it a million different ways and he chose to put you in an impossible position. now you’re stuck ignoring your bestfriends and keeping secrets from them just because you didn’t even know how you felt. you’d isolated yourself because a part of you felt like you had let yourself fall into this. you didn’t want to feel any more embarrassed than you already did and that was your own doing. nothing you did was inherently embarrassing, but that didn’t stop you from feeling like you put yourself in this position.

roy could’ve been protecting his friend for all you knew because what does he have to lose? he’s probably trying to get you back into the frat so jason could get back into your pants.

but that doesn’t make sense… you knew that couldn’t make any sense.

why would roy lie?

anyway, even if what roy said was true, jason knew what he did was wrong and he did it regardless. why should you keep letting that dictate how you lived your life and the people you interacted with? why should his wrong doing create strains on your relationships with everyone else?

with a heavy purpose and a clouded mind, your feet led you to the frat house instead of your own. the door was unlocked like it always was and you push it open, calling out graysons name.

“gray? are you here?” already slipping off your shoes and shutting the door behind you.

“he’s not here,” hal says, walking out of the living room with his shirt sideways and his hair tossed.

he yawns wide and rubs his face, “you haven’t been here in awhile huh?”

you shake your head, “did i wake you?”

he shrugs and flicks his wrist like he’s dismissing it, “nah, i should’ve woken up hours ago to study for my physics exam.”

“physics?” you question, face showing your disbelief.

hal laughs, “what? you expect all frat guys to be complete idiots?” pausing to let you reply but he continues, “well, you’d be right. cause if i don’t ace this exam, i can say goodbye to aerospace engineering.”

offering him a small smile, “when’s the exam?” you question while you shrug your coat off.

“two days.” he sighs, eyeing the box in your hands.

you nod, “okay, that’s okay. you got time. just go study somewhere no one can bother you, you’ll be fine.”

with a sweet smile you could never expect from frat boys, hal laughs, “you’re too nice for your own good.“

at that you open up the box in your hands, holding it up to him and offering him the pastries inside, “take some.” hal shakes his head, “no seriously take it and go study while no one is here. brew yourself a coffee or something on that fancy machine you guys have and never use.”

hal stares at them, eyeing a chocolate croissant before grabbing one, “thanks.”

“take ‘em with you,” you smile, “i brought them for gray so just save him an almond croissant. he likes those.”

he nods, taking the box from you to take to the kitchen, “him and jason both. good thing you brought three.”

the smile you had fades into something else, though it’s still enough for him to mistaken it as genuine. hal makes his way to the kitchen and you go up the stairs to go study in grayson’s room until he gets back.

walking up the steps to go to graysons room, you hear distant sounds coming from jason’s but you ignore them. the closed door does nothing to stop the magnetic feeling you had towards knocking on it. but you don’t.

you’re here for grayson. you’re here because you hadn’t seen him in a while and he told you he misses you and you do miss him too.

like you’d usually do, you drop your bag by his desk and plop on his bed, to scroll through your phone for a bit. responding to messages and emails from your professors reminding you to finish the work they gave you before the end of the week. you groan to yourself and slip your phone back into your pocket to force yourself to lock in and do some work.

you sit at graysons desk with your laptop out for maybe ten minutes before you hear his voice echoing through the halls, clearly on the phone with someone. his footsteps stop around the other end of the hallway and you hear distant heavy knocking. it’s probably just him talking to one of his frat bros. you didn’t tell him you were coming anyways so you stayed there, typing away with music playing in one airpod.

“open the fucking door jason,”

that’s what got you to slip the airpod out and tune in to whatever was being said. getting up, you creep towards the door to get a better sense of what was happening. opening the door, you turn your head just enough to watch their altercation in front of jason’s bedroom door. the door opens.

“yeah?” jason asks, utterly exhausted look on his face.

your heart pangs despite it all and roy’s words repeat in your mind that jason wasn’t coming home. that he was getting back late, that he really did feel sorry.

grayson shoves him into the wall next to his door and says your name, “did you sleep with her because of a fucking bet?” jason’s face doesn’t change, the same regret evident as grayson shoves him harder, “did you?!”

jason doesn’t meet his gaze but he takes accountability and he nods, “yeah i’m an idiot—”

you barely had enough time to cover your mouth to mask your gasp when grayson pulls his arm back just to drive it forward. his fist meets jason’s face, hard. your eyes widen as jason takes his older brothers punch to his mouth.

he doesn’t try to stop him.

he doesn’t block his face.

his tongue darts out just to lick a speck of blood that had already formed there, trailing up to look at grayson.

grayson looks angrier than you’d ever seen him before, pushing his brother off of him and stepping away.

“you could’ve literally dated anyone. literally fucking anyone and you did that to her. my friend. and now she doesn’t come by anymore cause she doesn’t wanna see your stupid face.”

jason’s head hangs low, looking utterly ashamed with himself and takes his graysons ranting like he knew he deserved it.

“i fucking vouched for you! i told her you were a good guy and you just… christ jason what’s wrong with you!”

the cold feeling slithered down your spine as you watched this unfold. the way jason just took it all, letting the words sink in like he was sorry, it irked you for some reason. why isn’t he defending himself? why is he letting grayson tell him off? why the hell is he acting hurt when you’re the one who was embarrassed?

graysons scoffs at him, calling him pathetic under his breath. his footsteps descend down the steps and out the door, slamming it shut behind him. jason stands there for a minute, wiping his nose and lip on his sleeve. then he turns around to go back into his room.

something in your mind shifts and you find your chest heaving.

what the hell was jason so upset for when he did this to you?

without really thinking, you’re stomping down the hall and into jason’s room. he’s touching his split lip when he looks up as you slam the door shut behind you. he’s wide eyed, inches away from his bed, when says your name, surprised and uncertain.

you shove him backwards from his chest, “stop doing that!“

he doesn’t stop you, he lets you shove him around, “stop what?”

“quit walking around like a fucking kicked puppy. stop acting like you’re the one hurt by this!”

he sighs, dropping his hands to his sides, “i am hurt by this.”

you push him again, hard enough for the backs of his legs to touch the bed, “you did this jason. it’s your fault, now you’re moping around the library, letting your brother punch you. not coming home at night. god, you’re so frustrating.”

he nods, eyes broken and still unwavering on you like you’re his remedy and his prayers answered, “i’m sorry.“

this time you grip his shirt because he’s still doing that. still looking at you like that.

the anger boils over into something else, “stop fucking apologizing to me.” you huff, “stop pretending like you care.”

then his eyes meets yours, tearful and quivering lips, and his hand clasps over your wrist, “but i do care. i care so much, i just can’t believe let myself fall for something so stupid and hurt you.”

you sigh, long and strangled as you grip his shirt tighter, “no you’re not. you’re sorry you got caught. you weren’t gonna tell me otherwise. you just let me believe that we just happened naturally not forced by a fucking bet.”

“i…i did. i was going to tell you but i was scared that it meant i’d lose you.” his perfect eyes boring into yours, a tear slipping down his cheek, “i liked you,” pausing to correct himself, “i like you so much. it was wrong of me. you should hate me. i don’t blame you.”

“just shut up!” you grabbed at his shirt, crumpling in your fist as your faces were inches apart.

chests heaving against the other as you watched his sorrowful eyes fall to your lips.

and that breaks you.

the tension was boiling like it was about to snap. you’re hot and bothered and he was everything you wanted while nothing at the same time. you couldn’t help it.

with a breathless gasp, you pulled him in even closer by his collar and crashed your lips into his, in an attempt to mask the way you were desperately trying to hate him. lips hard against his while his hands found your hips immediately. despite how badly he’s been wanting this, wanting you again, he hesitates to draw you even closer until he’s nearly on the bed, tugging at you as his lips part and reattach onto yours.

with a sloppy kiss, you pull back to shove him backwards onto his mattress. he bounces as he hits it, his hard body shifting as his weight settles and shifts upwards to watch you.

panting hard you shift on your feet like you’re evaluating what you were doing and what you wanted. so many thoughts reeling in your mind as his perfect, wet eyes watched you, his face damp from how you both had been making out so sloppily as if you’d never touched before. you press in and watch as his legs desperately part for you to move in closer. he stares at you in bewilderment, silently calculating what you wanted here when your hands find the hem of your shirt and you lift it up and over your head.

he’s breathing heavily as you climb on top and straddle him and desperately leaning into you while you press your lips into his again. achingly needy for you but he lets you take control, he hovers his hands over your thighs when you grab them and place them where you want them to be. when he finally squeezes the plush of your thighs, you moan into his mouth and he laps at yours, swallowing down the sound.

his lips trail down the side of your face while you fiddle with the button of his jeans. he lets you take what you want, moving his hips to help you maneuver him out of them and doesn’t dare to try to make you strip out of any layers. this was about you, for you. he watches you with lustful and hungry eyes just barely hiding his dismay for himself. you yank his face back up to yours, kissing his perfect face and lapping at the split in his lip before licking it clean. without hesitation, he moans at the sensation, hips involuntarily bucking up into yours. you gasp, sharp and hurried when you finally pull away to look at him.

the state of him a mess, his lip swollen and red and cheeks flushed. his shirt was sideways and his jeans were at low at his hips, revealing his deep v-line. your shirt was somewhere on the floor and you were sure you were soaked through your panties from grinding into him like a feral animal. this was pure need and adrenaline. this was weeks of pent up anger and frustration. all the things you’d heard from grayson and roy this week were only making you want him even more. even if you knew this was wrong. jason wanted to use you, even if it was a bet based on his feelings for you, so now you were taking it back. this was your decision. this was you taking what you wanted.

you stare down at him, hand sliding up his back and the nape of his neck until you tangled your fingers through his hair. he moans so beautifully, it could’ve torn you apart. the smallest smile forming on his face like he had been waiting for this. but you couldn’t let him have that. you lean down to whisper against his lips.

“this doesn’t change anything,” the sound vibrating against his skin, “this doesn’t fix us.”

leaning backwards until his back was nearly touching the headboard, he stares up at you. that smile disappearing completely.

“it doesn’t?” asking with the most innocent tone, you almost felt bad for him again.

you shake your head, touching your lips to his to watch him chase after you before putting a hand to his chest and whispering breathlessly, “no jay, this changes nothing.”

something in his eyes falter as he stares up at you, something reminiscent of barely concealed restraint and desperate want, “if that’s what you want…” he trails off, hands finding their way up your spine, “whatever you need, sweets.”

you nod, closing the distance and kissing him just as hard again. your hand finds the hem of his shirt and tug at it to him to pull it off. he obeys, leaning back just enough to tug the shirt off his back and drop it on the ground next to yours. scooting up with one arm around your waist, he drags you closer to his with his eyes unrelenting all over you.

shifting up your sides and down your stomach. his fingertips graze slow enough to send shivers up your spine and you let out a soft gasp. throughout it all, he watches you, blood still fresh on his lip as you continued to lap at it but now you watched him all the same. savoured him. when he tries to kiss you again, you push him flat on his back to take your hands up with unfamiliar cadence and unclasp your own bra. his mouth gapes open as he tries to sit up again, but your hand on his chest keeps him there.

you breathed his name, “stay there.”

he nods and drops back to let you take control. you push the rest of his jeans down his legs with his boxers alongside it. with quick movements, your pants hit the floor but your panties stayed on, just enough to tease both of you. the same fire that erupted earlier, the tension that boiled into something that resembles love and lust, it reignited. your hands move between the two of you as you palm at his throbbing length and jason gasps your name. but he doesn’t move. he doesn’t try to touch you again. he lets you do it because he knows it’s what you want.

still in his lap, you hover over him, pushing your panties to the side and guiding him closer. his breath hitches as you touch his tip to your entrance, just barely keeping your composure as it presses there. you continue to hover, taking a deep breath as you start to sink down on him. jason gasps, hands clenching around nothing and groaning your name and choking on his spit.

“oh my god, you’re so—”

he writhes, barely keeping his composure as you take him inside deeper, stopping as the girth starts to sting. this was only your second time and both with him. you still weren’t used to his size. he knew this and his hands reach your hips. you whine at the feeling, and jason breathes your name again, touching you so softly that you wished you could’ve hated him.

“do you want help?” he pants, “i can help.”

thighs burning, you gasp sharp and shake your head down at him, “no, i can…i can do it.”

inching him further, you drop the rest of your weight on him and take it all like just you said you would and completely without his help. he mewls your name as you start to bounce on him, slowly dragging and grinding your hips while he rubs against your slick walls. his neck stretches out on the pillow like he had you just weeks ago and his restraint nearly crumbles. but this was your turn. he moans broken and long as you move faster.

“oh fuck baby,” gasping out, his hands grasp your hips, not moving you but grounding you, “it’s yours, it’s all yours.”

spurring you on, your movements resume. bouncing on his thick length and letting your head fall back as pleasure builds deep. he can’t help it, not when you’re on display for him. not when the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen is bare and taking everything she wants from him. he was utterly yours. jason lifts his head while you’re too blissed out to protest and his lips latch over your breast, tugging and sucking until the peaked edge pebbles and you make a broken sound that he loves so dearly. your hands move from his chest to his hair and hold him there, tangling through his dark locks as your hips continue their movements. jason moans, louder than you’ve ever heard from him, his hands move lower and cup the soft globes of your ass as you make faster movements. switching to the other breast, he continues to knead the plush of your backside while his eyes roll back.

all of this spurs you on. his hips start to buck back into yours, just enough to remind you that he was as autonomous as you are and the peak is there before you know it. he thrusts up deeper while you watch him unravel beneath you.

jason cries out your name, beautiful in all of his glory, “please baby, you gotta slow down i’m gonna—”

you don’t listen to him, you don’t let him finish his sentence, pulling him up by his hair to kiss his plump lips. the kiss is all hurried and heated like neither of you could ever get enough. jason is just as eager to have you. he whines again, as his hips stutter, bucking up higher and higher. reaching deeper until you can hardly move back into him and you’re the one saying his name as your orgasm crashes over you. he holds you through it, kissing you back while you panting and moaning into his mouth, spent from how ferocious this was.

jason groans right back, “god, i love you,” following right after you as you clamp around him, pushing him over the edge. his release is warm and pulsating as rope after rope paints you from the inside.

you gasp as you feel it, the feeling was something raw and pure, making you feel everything all at once. but his words, his stuttered confession as he took you in the most intimate way possible—it unravelled you more than you’d like to admit.

he whimpers something incoherent as he thrusts up into you once more, the last spurts shooting into the warmth that welcomed him.

the high is over as soon as it comes and you collapse onto his chest. despite how spent he is, his arms wrap around you as he holds you against him and struggles to catch his breath. he’s about to say something, his chest rumbles under your ear but you lift your head and kiss him again, slower and with more purpose. jason absolutely melts, his fingers tighten around you as he chases your honeyed lips. lapping at you and stealing your breath. you sigh into him before you push him back down and reel over his blissed out words.

i love you.

a few moments pass where he holds you in his arms, still buried inside like he belonged there and a sick part of you knew he did. jason lets out a shaky breath and tries to speak again, clearly flustered and beating himself up.

“i’m sorry i didn’t mean to do that inside of you, i don’t know what came over me—”

you cut him off, “i didn’t move. it’s fine.”

you feel his adam’s apple bob as he gulps and slowly nods as if in slow understanding, “still, i should’ve said something though.”

not wanting to discuss it you stop him again, “let’s just not talk about it okay?”

the hesitation in his response could’ve made you sick. but the warmth of him kept you there. he nods again, “yeah, sure, whatever you need.”

you hate how sweet he was being but you snuggle closer into his arms. he pulls his covers over both of you and waits until you settle in his arms. continually making soft movements that somehow felt more intimate than how you’d both just ravaged the other. his hands making slow, barely there movements up and down your bare back as he started to succumb to the sleep that he hadn’t had in weeks.

after a while, you feel his breathing start to even out and his grip loosen around you. but you’re wide awake. everything was so fresh and so soft, it felt overbearing.

hours go by and thoughts continue to swirl you reckless like you hadn’t just slept with the man who broke your heart. you take a moment to bask in this, his warmth, his care. all of the feelings you’d been fighting these last couple weeks are resurfacing and demanding your attention. a slow, single tear slips down your cheek as the realization hits all over again that jason had the ability to hurt you. he had the capacity to hurt you and you didn’t know what to do with that.

then you’re getting up because you didn’t wanna be here when the sun rose.

you pry his arm off of you and start to step away, ignoring the sick feeling that started to settle in your stomach that told you this felt safe because jason already proved you wrong once.

cupping your face in your hands like it could take the warmth from your skin, you back away and grab your shirt off the floor. pulling on your clothes in a way that felt more shameful than you intended, you grab your bag from the front of the door you’d slammed shut and make your way out of the house.

no one to stop you this time. no one to blame for this mistake—no one but you.

jason groans as he wakes up, hand reaching over to the left side of his bed like it’s searching mindlessly. his hand flexes and grasps around nothing but empty air before he opens his eyes and see that you weren’t there. confusion floods his mind as the faint scent of your perfume lingered and clung to the fabrics tight.

like a ghost in the night that he could’ve dreamt of, he sits up and scratches at his head.

did he imagine you here?

was he pining after you so hard that he’d had a wet dream about you?

slowly, he lifts up the sheets to find himself entirely naked and confirm his suspicions.

you left—again.

jason pulls out phone from his table to check the time, 11:21am. shit, he’d missed his first lecture of the day which was also the one he had with you. and he wanted to talk to you after last night. he scratches at his head, dark hair disheveled as the options weigh in his mind. after a few moments, he hovers over your contact, clicking the message button.

the contact photo is a photo he took of you when you weren’t looking. perched in your library chair, hovering over your computer and deep in thought. jason had never seen anyone so devastatingly beautiful without even trying and he couldn’t help but snap a photo while you were unsuspecting. he smiles to himself as he starts to type out a message.

can we talk about what happened last night?

he blinks, contemplating the message before deleting it entirely. what he doesn’t want to do is have this conversation immediately over the phone. he wants to prove that this wasn’t something he’s not serious about. the last couple weeks have been hell for him and he’s been giving you the space you needed and until you took what you wanted right back. he loved it. he loves you. he meant what he said last night even if it was in the heat of the moment.

with the blue curser blinking at him, jason retypes another message.

hey, can we talk?

tapping his fingers on his the sides of the phone, he presses send and shut the phone off. he gets up and dresses himself, pulling on his hoodie restlessly as he awaits your response. shoving his feet into his socks and slipping on a pair of sweats. jason bites the inside of his cheeks, and traces his fingers over the scars on his skin, dragging his fingertips on the long scar on his cheek.

then his phone pings and you respond.

sure.

he beams, literally lights up at the fact that you’ve actually responded to him and given him a response. even if it was kinda dry. he texts back immediately.

i’ll be over in 15, that okay ma?

while he runs down the stairs, ignoring the looks wally and hal give him, jason is smiling giddy and wide. he puts his shoes on and barely tucks the laces in before he’s out the door.

k cool.

on the way over to your place he decides to take a detour to a flower shop nearby and grab something to really drive it home that he wants you—bad. jason walks through the flowers, staring at the peonies, the tulips, and the lilies. he ultimately settles on a dozen roses and asks the woman at the counter if she could wrap it up for him. telling her while he fidgets with his fingers, i’m a little nervous.

the older woman at the counter smiles and wraps it for him, nice and pretty, just how he liked. just like he saw you.

jason thanks the woman, paying with cash and leaving the change behind. dashing out the store to get there on time. taking quick, steady glances at his phone to make sure he wasn’t going to be late to see you. he told you he’d be there in fifteen minutes almost fourteen minutes ago. he pumps his legs faster and runs across campus to your building.

by the time he gets there and knocks on your door, he’s sweating a little and it’s gone down his forehead. beads of sweat slither down his face and he wipes it with his sleeve. nerves and barely concealed excitement etched across his face.

you open the door and your eyes immediately fall on his hands. lips parting in a silent O.

jason grins, and pushes the roses forward, “these, uh, they’re for you.”

you blink at him, “oh, you didn’t have to.” not taking the roses from him yet.

he sighs quietly. he knew it wasn’t gonna be a one and done thing, this was something he wanted to prove to you so he gives you another smile and gulps down his nerves.

“i wanted to talk about last night.”

“why?” you say quickly, still not stepping aside to let him in.

but jason doesn’t mind. he doesn’t expect anything less.

“i just,” his free hand scratches at the nape of his neck, “i wanted to tell you how much it meant to me. how much you mean to me.”

without responding yet, you lean against the door and watch him. jason goes on.

“you’re an important person to me and i just wish i could’ve handled all of this better in the first place,” eyes falling down to the roses then up to you, “i know i don’t get to just show up like this but i wanted you to know, it wasn’t just a bet to me. what happened between us, it wasn’t just physical. it meant more.”

as sweet as the gesture is, you don’t fall for it.

you tilt your head slightly, looking right at him, vision cold and face pale, “why? it’s not like i’m your girlfriend or anything.”

jason nearly doubled backward at that. his heart shrivels up and his fingers tighten around the prickly stems, “i…i know that.”

you nod slowly, expression unreadable to jason, but it was enough to know, nothing was right. you turn around to a table next to your door and grab something off of it. jason stands there awkwardly while you turn back and hand him a folded up sweater.

“here. it’s the hoodie i took from your room.”

something in his face breaks. he doesn’t take the hoodie at first, just looks at it in your hands and slowly lifts his hand. he lets you place the hoodie into his palm and he doesn’t lift his eyes from it.

he knew this wasn’t going to be so easy but you’d just taken his heart and stomped on it, showing him that this hurt that he did to you, it ran deep. showing up with some roses and a stupidly attractive smile wasn’t going to fix it. he was acting like he earned you, like he had access to you. you take a few steps backward and hold the door in your grips.

“i’ll see you around. bye jason.”

he furrows his brows and lets out a breathless sound, “right,” the bouquet turning upside down in his grip and he lets his arms fall to his side, “bye.”

the door shuts behind you with a deafening click.

he lifts his hoodie he didn’t even know you’d taken. the sweet scent of you fills his nose and he closes his eyes to bask in how badly he didn’t know he needed it. the hookup wasn’t because you’d forgiven him, no, it was cause of the frustration boiled inside of you. it was autonomous in a way that he wanted you to reclaim. part of him was proud of you, while the other part was aching, yearning. though he knows you wouldn’t hear him behind that closed door, jason whispers a soft, sorry before he leaves the roses there for you to find or let wilt away.

the words echo in his mind like gunshots; i’m not your girlfriend.

what burns him most is that you’re right.

Who's this? And did he know he was making your panties wet?

"Bitch." The guy beside you — Mark, or something boring like that — grunted as he walked off.

"This bitch made you call her mommy." You clapped back, eyes still on the fine man across the room. His lips were rosy, you just knew this man ate pussy.

Your heels thunked on the carpet as you strutted over. "Have we met before?" You asked, drawing his attention away from the book. "Could've sworn I've seen you from somewhere." Yeah, the line was overused. That was the point.

"Uh, no, we haven't." Jason replied awkwardly, even more so as your palms rested on the table. He got a full view of you. Your skin had the glow of body oil, your gloss put a magnifying glass to your lips, crisp eyeliner, sunglasses perched on your head — who the fuck wore those to be indoors — chain dangling from your neck. Following the metal led to a clear view of your chest hidden by the lace of a bra peeking over a leopard print cami. You looked like you'd walked out of a Y2K magazine, like all the girls who’d shoved their tits in his face. He wasn’t dealing with that again. "Can I... help you with something?" He had pretty eyes. Where does a man get off, having those eyes?

You pointed to the book about American history beside him. “Can you pass me that?” Of all the god-awful flirting tactics that usually worked, it didn’t this time. He just muttered “sure” and passed you the book, going back to Jane Eyre.

What the fuck? How thick was his skull?

You walked out with frustration bubbling under heated skin. That was the first time a man didn’t stutter at the sight of you. He’d just acted like a book was more interesting than your lips. Fuck him for being that sexy and playing hard to get.

You’d missed his flush when his eyes fixed on your thighs as you exited.

Your stupid Carerra Cabriolet had broken down on the side of the road, when it was fucking boiling out. At least you’d chosen another tank today, it made things a little easier for you when you had your tools out, bent under the bonnet of the car, trying to figure out the problem.

The roar of a bike almost deafened you, until it stopped right beside you. Your eyes locked on faded Levis, biker boots, but those arms were unmistakeable. The tip of your tongue traced the outline of your canine, lips stretching the longer you recognised that build, those god-gifted hands that were tracing the pages of a book just a few days ago.

Would you look at that. The library hottie.

He lifted his helmet off, ruffling his flattened hair so it’d stick up. The black fell in front of mossy green eyes, which took you in. You were the same girl from the library, the one who he accidentally checked out when you walked away. The sun kissed your thighs from its perch in the sky, his gaze trailed up, up, tracing, memorising the black lace of panties peeking above the waistband of your shorts like they did again with your tank top. You seemed to be a fan of that. Your chest rose and fell with every laboured breath. He caught the tongue tracing your canine. Maybe he shouldn’t have stopped.

“Car trouble?” He asked, hooking his helmet on the handlebars of his bike. “That’s some great luck, in this heat.” His eyes followed a bead of sweat trailing down your neck. His tongue ached— fuck, why was it doing that?

“I sure am lucky.” You replied, velvet voice making something in his fingers twitch. And somewhere else that he wouldn’t mention right now. “D’you know your way around cars? I could use some help here.”

He should say no. He should say he didn’t know shit then drive off in his bike, but he wasn’t a liar and he wasn’t gonna strand you out here in high heats. So, yeah, he took his swelteringly hot jacket off — fashion over comfort if he wasn’t Red Hood — slinging it over your car’s trunk. “Yeah. Yeah, I can help.” He was so going to regret this.

Your eyes were still on him. The black highlighting your eyes only making warmth creep up his spine and making its way to his ears, but you didn’t budge. You just stared. His hands hovered by either sides of your waist, eyes tracing the curves, the rolls of your stomach as you bent a little towards him. A soft “fuck” was at the tip of his tongue.

His hands gripped your waist, moving you gently— shit, the callouses on his hands. They were rough on your skin; you weren’t afraid to somehow into that. Maybe all the men who overuse hand cream sensitised you to the guys who actually used their hands. “Sorry, can I just…”

He was keeping talking to a minimum. It made you smile, especially as his black tank brushed your back and his fingers pressed into the skin where your tank rode up. “Sorry.” He mumbled again, looking under the bonnet. His eyes caught the spark plug. “Here.” He gestured to your spark plug. “You’ve got a worn spark plug. Got a spare?”

“Yeah, I do.” You bent down, you felt his eyes slide over your ass, greedy, and down your legs, stopping at your high-heeled boots. Ripping his eyes away from you as you stood up, crisp wing striking again. He didn’t miss the glint in your irises when he took the plug from you, manicured nails scraping his fingers. His soft muttered “thanks” punctuated the replacement of the spark plug, and without another word, he backed off to his bike. Hoping to get away before his brain betrayed him.

“Can I get your number?” Your voice stopped him in his tracks. He tried not to look at your lips, your moving jaw as you chewed on spearmint gum that burned the back of his throat. “In case this kinda thing happens again. I could use a guy who’s good with his hands.” You really would use him.

“I, um, ok.” He swallowed, putting out his hand for your phone. You gave it to him, the freakishly soft pads of your fingers caressing his knuckles this time. He was fucked. But he keyed in his phone number, pressing the ‘save contact’ button and giving it back to you. You read the contact name.

“Jason.” His name slid over your tongue, through his veins, straight to his dick. What was it about you? He swore he was better than this. “Can finally put a name to the face.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t.” He regretted that as soon as it left his mouth. Now he couldn’t avoid making a connection, treating you like you actually meant something in his life. If he let you mean something, you’d distract him, he knew your type.

Oh, he didn’t know shit about you.

Your laugh shot up his spine, your name rang a million times in his brain when you gave it. It rang in the daydream of you on top of him, clothed pussy moving slow, languid, over his cock. It rang every time he moaned your name in that fucked up image. He— he had to stop that. Now. “See you.” He almost tripped over his words, swinging a leg to mount his bike. Your smile was fresh in his head. Your tongue, your teeth that and caught your bottom lip as you watched him drive away.

You’d have him. One way or another.

Your name lit up his phone one random Friday afternoon. A text, a simple one. Your shower stopped working suddenly and you needed his help.

“M’not a fucking plumber,” He muttered, but it was pathetic how quickly he stood up and got his jacket on. Pathetic was how fast his index hooked his keys like he was, line and sinker. Maybe he was your plumber. And mechanic. He could be anything you wanted him to be.

This was either the start of a really bad joke, or highly erotic pornography.

He hesitated before knocking on your door. Ignoring how he’d spent the last five minutes driving above the speed limit. Denial was one of five stages of grief, or its distant cousin: horniness.

He waited. One minute second, two minutes seconds, three— the door swung open.

A silk robe was wrapped around your body. Tied in a knot. Damp hair plastered to your cheeks, valley of your tits covered with cascading droplets that disappeared down the V of the fabric. Very… flimsy fabric that was covering you. Barely. Your no-gloss smile still stole his gaze. How were your lashes curled with no mascara? Your leg peeked out from beneath the silk. His breath hitched. His face flushed. “You came.” You purred.

“You called.” He replied stiffly, stepping in. Kicking off his shoes by the door. Your apartment was… luxurious, but he wasn’t expecting less. He was almost expecting a brothel. But that was stereotyping, he wasn’t a big fan of that. “So, your shower just stopped working?”

“Out of the blue.”

“What makes you think I know how to fix it?”

“A hunch.” The grin you had on made him feel like he ate shit. The defeatist sigh was his white flag.

“Your hunch would be right.” You notched the win on your robe’s belt. You watched his ass as he disappeared into your bathroom. Bingo.

It wasn’t like you were lying about the shower, it had stopped right before you were about to put on a hair mask. It just gave you a very good excuse to call your pet project over.

“Looks like it’s a pipe issue, I got it.” He called over his shoulder. This bathtub was bigger than his single bed. But then again it attested to the difference between la bourgeoisie and la pété thune. Draped over a radiator was your loungewear. Tiny things— rib-knit cami, sleep shorts that probably stopped just short of your ass, matching white panties. In a row, right there.

The panties caught his eye. They were soft, lace at the trim, satin otherwise, fuckin’ gorgeous. You wore those. Just to sleep, you wore those. What the fuck. Why the fuck. Why the fuck was his mouth watering? His tongue heavy? Aching? Begging to circle your clit over the fabric with his tongue just so he could watch the fabric dampen, drench, cling to your cunt? He had to get out of here. Drive off. Start a new life, maybe crash at Dick’s place in Blüdhaven. He’d be safer there.

He found the pipe problem. He fixed it, it was backed up. The panties called his name; since when was he susceptible to that?

“Those were a gift from Victoria’s Secret.” He hadn’t noticed his gaze was fixed on the white fabric draped on the radiator. It snapped back to you. You were leaning against the doorframe, tongue back on your canine. Now that he looked again, he realised it was pointy, like a vampire.

Now that he looked again, he wanted it to drag up his neck.

He looked back at the panties, back to you, tripping over his tongue. “I—I didn’t mean to—” He still stood up, ready to plead guilty and for forgiveness, but your hum stopped his train of thoughts.

You pointed at the panties, tilting your head. “You can keep those.” His brain almost short-circuited. Huh? “I don’t mind.” This was… if you were sane, you’d kick him out. Scream. Maybe get a restraining order.

“I—” Words caught in his throat, “you—”

“Keep them.” You insisted softly, picking up the panties, finger hooking into his belt loops. A sharp tug brought him close, too close for his dick to be comfortable in his jeans. Your fingers slipped into his front pocket of his Levis, tucking the satin panties into them. Never breaking eye contact. Your spearmint breath fanning across his lips. “Never gave you a proper thank you. For saving me twice.”

“You don’t need to do that.” He almost leaned in himself. To get a taste of whatever was on your tongue, to satiate himself while he didn’t have access to your pussy.

Your lips tugged. Into a smile that burned his insides. “Sure?”

“No.” He breathed, and his whole body melted before your lips even captured his. More like devoured. That was a better word for the nasty smack of lips on lips and how your nails carded into his hair. How you pushed your saliva into his mouth with your tongue, forcing his lips apart with a sharp tug to the hair at his nape.

He couldn’t stop the moan. The whine. His hands helplessly grabbed at your thighs, silk bunching up, itching to undo the robe, lips attaching to your jugular, sloppy, open-mouthed, greedy kisses stamped onto your skin.

You got him.

You’d got him, but you pulled him off your neck by the collar of his shirt. “Another time, sweetie.” His head followed the drag of your finger down his jaw, pressing into your finger as it trailed down his chest. “Gotta finish my shower.”

“When?” He rasped, pupils blown. Dick hard. Breath laboured after you pulled all the oxygen he had from his lungs.

You paused, pouting as you mused. “I’ll call you.”

Fuck.

He wished it was you riding him. He had to settle for your panties instead.

The fabric was soft against his palms, even more so against his dick as he fisted it. This wasn't even a measured affair, his sweats were haphazardly pulled down so the waistband collected around his upper thigh. Same went for his boxers, sheets only covering him from the knees down. Everything was silent, too still, save for his frantic breaths, whimpers and faint thwaps of his hand moving up and down his cock.

He needed your cunt to drag up his dick and make it wet, he needed your pussy to suck in his dick, to use it, use him, he needed your mouth by his ear telling him how good he made you feel. He was incomplete without it.

"Fuck, ma, please," He didn't know why he was begging, when you couldn't hear him. You were in your apartment, you couldn't hear him calling out your name to God knows who. Maybe worshipping at your altar was enough to grant him permission to, y'know, come.

Some sick part of him wanted to call you up. Ask you whether he could finally have an orgasm he'd been chasing for the last thirty minutes, it was a twisted thought, but his hand scrambled for his phone on his bedside table. Almost knocking it over amidst his moans.

He’d put you on speed dial at some point. He’d blacked out when he did, apparently, he couldn’t remember when. Sometime between fantasising you on top of him and picturing eating your pussy. The two weren’t mutually exclusive.

His thumb frantically tapped on the green button, knowing it was an ungodly hour of the morning. Knowing you said you’d call him when you wanted to fuck. He just wasn’t pressed to wait.

But you knew it’d happen. You’d been ticking off the hours in your head, laying on your king-size, for when this six-two hunk of a man would crack and call you, desperate for your permission. You’d played the waiting game before.

So you waited again.

Let the phone ring for ten seconds, really dragging it out, letting him delay himself that tiny bit more for an ego trip. He stared at your caller ID the longer his moans grew louder. His hand slowed down because he hadn’t heard your voice yet, he hadn’t asked you—

“Hello?” Your voice, sickly sweet, rang out from the phone. He put you off speaker, slamming the phone to his ear, so close, so ready, whining into the microphone. Your lips curled on the other end.

You could only hear his breathing. His paced up puffs of breath punctuated by needy whines which had your panties soaking through. Gosh, this really was something. “Speak up, Jason.” You sing-songed, prompting a low groan from him.

“Need t’come, ma.” He couldn’t recognise his own voice. Raspy, hoarse, from all the broken sounds he’d been letting out for god knows how long. “Can I—? Please — shiiiit — please lemme, m’so close.”

Your laugh was taunting. It only shot a shiver up his spine. “Oh, Jay,” He could practically hear your smirk through the phone, “you really need my pussy, huh?”

“Fuck, yeah, I do.” He nodded frantically, hand picking up the pace around his cock. Satin dragging against his skin. “Wanna — haah— feel that fuckin’ pussy around my cock, wanna— wanna taste it, m’gonna eat you so good, ma—”

Huh. You’d managed to break this guy in a matter of a week, an incredible feat, even for your standards. Here he was, babbling about going down on you. Your index crept down to circle your clit over your shorts. Your long sigh soothed his ear. “Mhm, Jay, I know, baby— come f’me?” The sugar talking earned you a deep moan from the other end, the shallow breaths and whimper of your name telling you he’d definitely come. His head thudded back against the pillows, covering his dick with your panties so they caught every thick rope of come. He felt so dirty. “Sounded so good, sweetie." That made it feel better. Less pervy.

There was a pause as he caught his breath and composure. “Fuck, ma, when m’I gonna see you?”

You'd never felt like this before.

Jason's tongue dragged over your cunt, almost folding you in half in the effort to make your thighs clamp around his head. His face was buried in your pussy, slurping whatever you had to give him, so much so that saliva mixed with your dripping arousal. He was moaning, moaning, against your clit, bumping it with his nose.

He was too fucked out to be methodical. Too fucked out from fucking his fist with your satin panties for a week when "I'll call you" was a long time coming. You'd finally told him to come over, after seven tortuous days.

He'd narrowly avoided getting a speeding ticket.

He rolled his hips, humping the bed so his dick would get some friction, pads of his fingers sure-fire bruising your skin, they'd be visible for days. You'd be walking around with his fingerprints blooming just under the hem of your shorts. That was hot.

Obscene slurping sounds had you gripping his hair harder as his thumb flicked and teased your clit, two fingers filling you up. "Oh, shiit, Jay," Your eyes rolled back at the intrusion. You were keeping him, for sure.

His fingers were long. Thick. Crooked from being broken one too many times. They instantly brushed your g-spot, he curled them just right, you couldn't help the moan that came when his lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. Stacking one thing on top of another so he could make you feel as good as he did over the phone.

"Look at this—" He stopped to whine against your pussy, vibrations sending your head knocking back against your headboard, "this pretty fuckin' pussy, huh?" He was just babbling at this point, trailing off into incoherence the longer he licked you clean. "Kept me waiting so long, ma, jus' wanna make you feel good."

He'd never felt this bliss before.

Your clit dragged on the base of his cock every time you lifted yourself up and dropped back down. Hard slaps of skin on skin was the soundtrack to Jason grabbing your thighs in a frenzy, pupils blown, unable to look away while letting out the most lascivious moans you'd ever heard in your life as his glasses tilted with every bounce of you on his cock.

This was either the start of a really bad joke or highly erotic pornography.

That question got answered real quick.

He propped himself up, to be able to fuck up into you but also kiss the tits that had been taunting him for ages, sucking your nipple into his mouth like it owed him rent. You couldn't help the grab onto the strands of his hair that desperately needed a trim as he sucked insistently, one hand sliding between your thighs so he could rub his name onto your clit with two fingers. You'd spelled out your name in hickeys that spanned his neck and chest. Lipstick prints spanned his jaw and scarlet smeared over his lips.

His green eyes were desperate, looking up at you. "Fuuuck, ma, s'good," He mumbled incoherently, releasing your tits with a slick pop to run aimless kisses over your neck, "s'warm, feels fuckin'—" The smacks of his hips against yours, the smacks of his lips on your skin, they sent you barrelling to a new high.

Your hand messed up his hair, other leaving red trails across his back. Scarlet that any girl would look at and realise that this man belonged to someone. If they didn't get the hint from the smudged lipstick and hickeys. "Yeah, Jay, you're so good, huh?" You praised, his hips picked up the pace. Your head tilted back, clamping down on him, he swore into the crook of your neck. "I'm— m'coming, baby, come with me, yeah?"

"Uh-huh — shit, I — haah —" It was a wave submerging him that reached you too. A cry of each other's names that would end up with a noise complaint at your door the next morning, considering the headboard had been knocking the wall for the past two hours. He'd come inside you, warmth filling you till you felt it in your throat, hand stroking his hair as his breath shuddered against your neck. You were keeping him, for sure.

He lifted his head from your neck, you reached out to wipe the sweat from his flushed temple. His head followed your hand like it held his will to live.

He swallowed, panting. "Was that good?"