#I realized when I finished drawing this that it's technically about a sex thing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

katyswrites · 8 months

Text

don't call me 'baby'

PART 10 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, SMUT (18+), angst, mentions of pregnancy/a pregnancy scare, mentions of food and alcohol, unprotected p in v, daddy kink, oral sex (f receiving), creampie, ddlg dynamics, swearing, alcohol use, smoking, age gap, no use of y/n

Wordcount: 10.4K

A sugar daddy modern AU, a whirlwind summer romance in Italy, and two people from completely different walks of life, somehow finding each other in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But, what will happen when summer ends?

PART 10 | meet me in the afterglow

FOUR MONTHS LATER

Your walk to work was chilly enough to warrant a coat. That was perhaps the thing you missed least about home in the U.S. - even though the winters certainly got cold here, it was nowhere near the sub-zero temperatures you had grown up with during the coldest time of year. Maybe the only thing you missed was snow - in all of your time living here, you had only gotten a brief dusting once, and it had melted by the following day.

Still, a week out from Christmas, you now needed to wrap something warm around yourself as you walked down the street, heading closer to the city center as your shift was due to start.

You were technically two minutes late to your shift, the coffee shop busy enough to have a line going out the door when you arrived. Yet, your manager Francesco said nothing - a small spark of joy in your day.

You didn’t necessarily need to go back to work - Steve’s money had yet to run out. But, you felt good about earning your own money - and, the less you had to draw on his remaining funds, the less you had to think about him.

You hadn’t seen or spoken to Steve since the night of your argument. Well, that was only partially true - you had received one piece of communication from him. It came a few days later - you had been moping in your apartment, having barely left your room for days, when an envelope arrived. It had his familiar writing and wax seal, with another wad of cash and a letter made out to you:

I promise this is the last you’ll hear from me. I am a man of my word, so I promise to help provide for you until you’re finished with school. I’ll be transferring enough money to your account to cover all of your expenses, so no need to worry about your rent, food, anything of the sort… I really do want you to be able to focus on school, okay? So, please don’t protest, or try to send the money back. Please feel free to use the credit card if you need to.

I’m sorry it ended this way. We both knew it was going to, but I apologize if I said anything out of line the other night. I truly do wish you the best.

Take care,

Steve

Reading it had been a punch to the gut. The formality of it, the finality of it… you would’ve rather that you never heard from him again. You had stashed the letter in a box under your bed, and not looked at it since.

A few weeks after that, you had pregnancy scare. It was silly, really - but, your period was late, and if was the first conclusion your mind had jumped to. You had called Robin in a panic, begging her to come home - she did, with four different brands of pregnancy tests. Those 15 minutes of waiting for results were the most agonizing of your life - then, upon seeing them all negative, you fell to your knees and burst into tears.

“It’s okay,” Robin had cooed, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “You’re good it was a false alarm - you’re probably just late because of stress -”

“I know,” you sobbed. “I just -”

“What is it?”

You then had sat up, chest heaving as you sobbed.

“He’s really gone isn’t he?”

Robin held you in her arms that night as you cried yourself to sleep.

To your knowledge now, he had gone back to the U.S. - was he still in Chicago? Or, did he go back to New York? You realized it was better for you to not ask these questions, or to think of him at all. As the weeks had turned into months, you found yourself thinking of him a little less each day - but you still thought of him. You saw him in the passersby as you walked down the street, in every car window, in every businessman walking through the door to order a coffee. Sometimes, you’d hear a laugh, or get a brief whiff of cigarette smoke, and swear it was him. But it never was - it never would be again.

The days had dragged on, but luckily, you often found yourself too busy to dwell too much on thoughts of Steve. Between work and school, your plate was pretty full. With graduation in mere weeks, you had spent the entire term studying and working on your thesis. Steve’s remaining money, at least, allowed you to work far less hours than you had before - a small blessing, you supposed.

The day was moving pretty quickly, the morning rush busy enough that two hours flew by without much notice. It was only during the afternoon lull that you found yourself able to look up from the espresso machine - only to lock eyes with a familiar face through the window.

Eddie smiled back at you, waving. You couldn’t help but grin, and beckoned him to come inside. He bounded through the glass doors, bursting into the coffee shop with the infectious, chaotic energy he always carries with him.

“Bella, how are you?” he asked, leaning over the counter with a big grin.

“I’m okay,” you said, shrugging.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Just okay?”

“Oh well - you know, a bit stressed with the end of term and all. But, that’ll all be over soon.”

“I’m almost done, too - just finishing up my exams, all of that nonsense.”

“Do you have someone for your thesis?”

You nodded. “Professor Hopper - he’s always had a soft spot for me,” you said, smiling fondly, thinking of the seemingly-gruff.

“I have Clarke - I don’t actually know how much he knows about photography, he teaches chemistry for godsake, but apparently it’s a hobby or something, so he’ll sign off on whatever I do,” Eddie said, laughing.

“Oh! I forgot to tell you - I actually have my own studio space now.”

“What? Eddie, that’s amazing!”

He grinned. “Thanks - I mean, I’m still technically freelance, but I’m hoping once I’m fully graduated more work will start coming in. But for now, I don’t mind having some spare time to practice with the band.”

You did your best to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“Right - don’t forget me when you make it as a big rockstar, Eddie.”

He let out a hearty laugh at that, the infectious kind that had you joining in - you hadn’t laughed like that in quite some time.

“You know, you should come by later to check it out,” Eddie said. “I mean, if you want -”

You thought for a moment, then nodded.

“Sure, why not - I get off in about a half hour -”

“Perfect,” he cried, clapping his hands together. “I’ll just wait around then - and, uh, can I get an espresso? Since I’m already here and all.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting a smile.

“Yeah, sure thing Munson - I’ll take my sweet time with it, just for you.”

The end of your shift flew by, and soon enough you were pulling off your apron, linking your arm in Eddie’s as he led you out the door and through the city.

The studio, as it turned out, was only a few blocks away. The space was small, but nice - a big glass storefront allowed plenty of light in, even with the fading sun, indicative of the short days of winter. Some of Eddie’s work hung framed on the walls - city scenes, candids of people on the street, bands in action at his favorite club… and even a few of you, from the project you posed for a few years ago.

“Wow - this is amazing, Eddie!” you exclaimed, glancing around the studio with genuine pride for your friend. You knew this was always the goal for him, what he always wanted to do.

“Grazie mille,” he said, beaming.

“Do you have anything lined up?”

He nodded.

“Some - nothing too interesting. A few weddings, graduation photoshoots, things like that. Oh, do you want to see the photo lab?”

You let him lead the way into the back room, passing through a dimly-lit room with machines and equipment that you were sure you had no idea how to use. Newly developed photos were hanging around on clothespins, or spread across the table in the middle.

“Back there is the darkroom,” Eddie said, gesturing to a small door on the other side of the room. “But yeah, this is where the magic happens.”

“You develop all your pictures this way?” you asked, examining a few laid across the table.

He shook his head. “Not exactly - only the stuff I shoot on film. A lot of what I do is digital, and I edit that on my computer but… I really do love shooting film. I only really do that for specific things. Oh, which reminds me!”

He turned his back to you, rummaging through a filing cabinet until he produced a large manila envelope, extending it to you. You furrowed your brow, confused. You turned it to examine it properly - the only thing written on it was your name and a date, in Eddie’s telltale scrawl.

“What -”

“It’s those pictures I owe you, from your birthday party - sorry, it took me a while to get around to developing them.”

Oh.

“Oh,” you said quietly, gripping the envelope a bit tighter. “Uh, thanks - that was really nice of you, Eddie.”

You were still staring down at the parcel in your hands, your hands shaking a bit - you had completely forgotten that Eddie had been taking pictures all night. Most likely because you had been a bit distracted at the time. But now…

“I think they turned out pretty nice, if you ask me,” Eddie said. “But, you can be the judge of that yourself.”

You pressed your mouth into a tight line, nearly feigning a smile as you finally met his eyes again. He was looking back expectantly, and you realized he wanted you to look at them now.

“Oh, yeah,” you mumbled. “I guess I’ll just -”

You opened it up, sliding out the stack of photos - they were slightly bigger than the ones you had seen from a digital camera, on a beautiful matte paper that you knew must have not been cheap. This, you realized, was Eddie’s belated birthday gift to you.

You thumbed through the pictures - the first few were just candids of your friends on the dancefloor, or deep in conversation around the bar. There were a few of you and Robin, arms thrown around each other and smiling ear-to-ear.

There were quite a few solo shots of you, raising a glass to the camera, mid-laugh, or dancing - somehow, he had made it look like you truly were the center of attention, as if to tell people this is who we were there for!

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, laughing quietly at a few of the shots, including one of Robin flipping off the camera as she kisses Vickie. Then, your smile dropped, because there he was.

Steve, looking as handsome as you remembered, but somehow also a stranger, or like a figment of your imagination. Somehow, a small part of your subconscious had convinced you over the last few months that perhaps he wasn’t real, a true figment of your imagination that had been too good to be true. But there he was, large as life, his arm wrapped around you as you smiled into the camera. You were smiling in his arms, a girl completely unrecognizable in some ways. In another photo, he’s pressing a kiss to your cheek as you laugh - you remembered that one being taken, that’s for sure. You gently trailed your fingers across the picture, as if you were hoping to reach in and pull that happy girl out, just to shake a bit of sense into her. You didn’t even realize you were crying until a fat wet teardrop his the page, rolling down and off the edge.

“Whoa - are you alright?” Eddie asked, his voice tinged with worry.

You jumped, having nearly forgotten that he was there at all. How long had you been staring at the pictures of Steve? For a few minutes, or hours? There was no way to know.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you said, the thickness in your voice betraying you. You pressed the heels of your hands under your eyes, willing the gentle tears to stop, sniffling.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asked softly.

You laughed dryly, more hot tears welling up as you did.

“Nothing! I - they’re beautiful, Eddie. Really - thank you. You - you’ve really got a talent.”

Your voice wobbled a bit at the end, and you sniffled.

“I’m sorry, I - it’s nothing to do with you,” you assured him. “I just - I’ve been having a hard time lately.”

Eddie cocked his head, confused. Then, his eyes flitted down to the picture in your hands.

“Oh - I’m sorry, I - is this about him?” Eddie asked quietly, gesturing to the photos. You just nodded, avoiding his gaze again as you stuffed them back into the envelope.

“I didn’t know you two had broken up, I’m sorry -”

“We didn’t break up!” you snapped, harsher than intended. “Fuck, I - sorry, that came out wrong. We didn’t break up, because we were never exactly together. It’s just complicated.”

Eddie furrowed his brow. “Yeah, okay - well, I’m sorry to hear about your not-breakup. I guess I’m just a little surprised.”

“Why’s that?” you asked.

He shrugged. “I spent a long time looking at all of those when I was developing them - you know how they say pictures tell a thousand words?”

You nodded.

“Well - I take pictures of a lot of couples - weddings, engagement shoots, all of that… and I’ve never seen two people more in love than you two.”

You felt your chest tighten - maybe you were being a lovesick idiot at your party, but Steve?

You shook your head. “No - Eddie, it… it wasn’t like that. I can promise you that.”

Steve made that perfectly clear.

Eddie shrugged again. “I’m just telling you what I observed, that’s all.”

“Well maybe you should mind your business,” you grumbled.

Fuck. You shouldn’t have said that.

Eddie’s face fell a bit, and he slowly took a step back, hands shoved in his pockets.

“My apologies,” he whispered. He was hurt, that much was obvious. You mentally kicked yourself.

“No Eddie - I’m sorry, I didn’t -”

You sighed, frustrated.

“Things have been, like, really weird the last few months and… it doesn’t matter.”

“I could tell,” he said, voice quiet. “You’ve been.. Distant.”

You nodded, the awkwardness filling the space between you two. You had fucked this up too, somehow.

“So,” you said, clearing your throat. “Uh, it’s getting late, and dark… I probably should head home.”

“Yeah, okay - good idea, I have some stuff to work on anyway.”

You both nodded, avoiding eye contact as you both headed out back into the studio.

It wasn’t until you were at the door that you turned to face Eddie again.

“The place really is beautiful… I’m proud of you,” you said sincerely. He offered a small smile in return.

“Thanks.”

“I also - the pictures are beautiful. Thank you for these, I - they’re great.”

“I’m sorry if they -”

“Don’t apologize,” you said firmly. “They’re great - you’ve really got a gift, you know.”

You could tell Eddie was fighting a real smile, a small win in your book.

“C’mon, you know my ego’s just fine on its own.”

You laughed, and without thinking, pulled him into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry I lost it a little earlier,” you whispered.

“It’s alright,” he said, pulling away. “Heartbreak is funny like that.”

You decided not to bother protesting his assessment this time, too tired to start a fight again just to feel something.

“Right, okay.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take out the photos with… him?” Eddie asked, gesturing down to the envelope.

“No, that’s alright - I’m a big girl, I can go through them. I’m definitely going to hang a few of these up though, so thanks again.”

“Take good care of yourself darling, alright? And come by any time - for any reason.”

It was an olive branch, an assurance that things were okay. You forced a smile, nodding.

“Thanks, Eddie - you’re a great friend, you know.”

You bid your farewells, and left the studio with a strange feeling settling within you. You pulled your coat a little tighter around you, stuffing the envelope underneath as you charged through the chilly evening air to the nearest bus stop.

You didn’t get home until nearly 6pm, the winter sky fully dark by then. By the time you walked a few blocks and up the stairs to your apartment, your face was stinging from the cold, the wind picking up more since that afternoon.

Robin was on the couch, a rerun of Friends playing on the TV.

“Hey! You’re back kind of late,” she remarked.

“Yeah - I ran into Eddie, funnily enough,” you replied, hoping you sounded nonchalant.

“Oh really? How is he? I miss him - we should really make a plan to hang out with him soon -”

“Yeah, for sure,” you said, kicking off your shoes and hanging your coat on the rack. “He’s good - I saw his new studio, it’s nice.”

“Oh, no way! That’s great - I need to go sometime -”

“Yeah, totally,” you said, absentminded. “Uh, I’ve got some stuff to do, but I’ll be out here later -”

“Maybe we can get takeout or something -”

“Yeah, perfect -” you tittered, closing your bedroom door behind you, eyes on the envelope in your hands.

You bit your lip, debating what to do. Part of you considered finding all of the pictures of Steve, and burning them. But, that felt a bit dramatic. You pulled out the stack again, sifting through until you found the shots of him. You couldn’t help but smile, looking at how happy the girl in the photos was - if only she knew how quickly things would fall apart that night. The photo of Steve kissing you cheek was your favorite - it was just full of pure, unbridled joy. The one after that was the one you stared at for quite some time, though. You were looking into the camera, grinning widely. Steve, however, wasn’t - no, he was looking at you. You stared at him for quite some time - and remembered Eddie’s words.

I’ve never seen two people more in love than you two.

You had thought it was crazy - but, in the picture, Steve was looking at you like you’d hung the stars. Like, if he didn’t have you, he’d be lost. He was looking at you with eyes full of love - you just hadn’t been looking.

You gasped, realizing what Eddie had seen that you couldn’t - maybe everything had meant more to Steve than he had let on. No, that was crazy - wasn’t it?

What happened next didn’t have much explanation - it was probably crazy. You found yourself Googling Steve’s company headquarters in Chicago - it couldn’t be this easy, could it? But it was.

A quick call through the directory brought you to his secretary, a bubbly woman who was more than happy to help. You pretended to be the secretary of a business partner you had remembered Steve mentioning, saying how you wanted to send a thank-you gift - it had been too easy to get his home address, really. And, a confirmation that he was back in Chicago.

The next morning, you sent out an envelope, sticking on international postage. You debated not putting your name on the return address, but ultimately decided to include it - he’d recognize the address anyway. When you dropped it at the post office, you walked away feeling a sense of relief - and, perhaps, just a bit unhinged. TIme would tell if anything came of it. But, at the very least, it felt like finally closing the chapter of your life that had been defined by Steve Harrington. And, that was a good thing… right?

********

The day before Christmas Eve, you received great news: confirmation that you had passed all of your exams, your thesis receiving glowing feedback from the professors in your department. Your degree, which studied Art History and Travel and Tourism Management, meant that you would actually be able to stay here - you hoped to work in tourism in some way right here in Rome, or perhaps work in one of the city’s many museums - being bilingual would help, and more importantly, it meant you never had to set foot back in the United States again, if you didn’t want.

Christmas brought its usual cheer and celebration, complete with mulled wine and a potluck dinner you and Robin held for some of the other foreign students you were friendly with, knowing they didn’t have families to go to for the holidays. Your graduation only brought extra festivities, including a speech prepared by Robin given as a toast at dinner, saying how proud she was of you (and, how jealous she was that you didn’t have to worry about schoolwork anymore). It was silly yet sincere enough to make you tear up and pull her into a big hug. Eddie and Jonathan even swung by for a bit, joining in on the celebration until the wee hours of the morning. Robin and Vickie were all over each otherYou ate and drank to your heart’s content before stumbling to bed, leaving cleanup in the kitchen for the morning.

The morning of Boxing Day, it turned out, was actually the afternoon, with you and Robin oversleeping. You, to your own relief, felt tired, but not too hungover - the same couldn’t be said for Robin and Vickie, who stumbled into the kitchen with grimaces on their faces and grumbles as a greeting.

You spent most of the day cleaning up from the last two days’ festivities, washing dishes and clearing away wrapping paper, wiping countertops and vacuuming just enough until your home felt semi-in order.

You were still in your pajamas as it was getting dark again in the evening, a rarity these days. When Robin said she was heading out to dinner with Vickie and likely would be staying at her place that night, you bid her farewell, looking forward to some time alone to fully relax and unwind.

It was several hours later, after scrounging together a dinner of Christmas leftovers and half-dozing on the couch while a movie played, that your doorbell rang. You sat up with a start, your heart jumping at the unexpected intrusion. You stumbled to the door, grumbling about who could possibly be here at this hour - maybe Robin decided to come back after all, and got locked out again? You were ready to playfully ridicule her when you opened the door. But when you saw who was standing on the other side, you froze.

Steve Harrington was there on your doorstep, barely illuminated in the dim light. His chest was heaving, his hair just a bit disheveled. His eyes widened when he saw you, and you imagined you did the same. Your heart plummeted to your stomach at the sight of him, so real and alive in front of you. Were you dreaming? Was this some sick prank?

Neither of you said anything for a moment, two mouths hanging open, searching for the words.

“It’s Christmas,” you blurted out, the first words you’ve said to him in over four months.

“It’s December 26th,” he replied, simply and casually.

“I - well, it’s still a holiday, kind of.”

“Yeah, I know - do you know how hard it is to catch a last-minute flight on Christmas?”

You just stood there in the doorway, unable to think of anything else to say - what the fuck?

“What are you doing here?” you asked, words biting. You were lashing out a bit, but you didn’t care - this moment right now reminded you of a similar one over the summer, when he came to your doorstep to explain how he wasn’t engaged. What was his excuse now?

“Why did you send me this?” he asked, holding up a familiar envelope - the photo.

Why did you? You weren’t certain of that answer yourself. So, you went with the first explanation that came to your head.

“It’s a good picture of you,” you said quietly.

He rolled his eyes.

“Do not - I don’t hear from you for months, then I get this in the mail - on Christmas Eve, mind you -”

“I’m sorry, were you supposed to hear from me?”

“I don’t know!” he cried. “Maybe?”

You scoffed. “You can’t be serious - you made it very clear that you never wanted to see me again.”

“I - what?”

“I wish you well? Take care? We ended things, Steve - what else was I meant to think?”

He sighed, his shoulders sagging.

“I don’t know. I guess part of me - it doesn’t matter. But, what am I supposed to make of this?” he asks, waving the envelope.

“I - Eddie gave me a bunch of pictures he took at my birthday party… I thought maybe you’d want that one.”

He took a tentative step closer towards you, gauging your reaction. You held your ground, not breaking eye contact.

“Is that the only reason?” he asked, voice low.

You felt your heartbeat quicken, your palms clammy - he really was just so handsome. Still, there was something so boyish about him, something that reminded you of why you fell for him in the first place. He had cut his hair a bit, his summer tan faded - and he looked tired. Then again, you probably did too - you suddenly became conscious of the fact that you were in your pajamas, still looking like you had just woken up - you wished you could disappear, never to be perceived again.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “The only reason.”

He was close enough now that you could see his Adam’s Apple bob as he gulped, his eyes glancing up and down your form as he took a deep breath.

“Tell me that, when you sent this, there wasn’t at least a small part of you that hoped I’d respond - that, when you sent this, you hoped I’d call, or show up here. If there wasn’t, I’ll walk away right now, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

There it was - everything laid out on the table. So much was still unsaid - but, it was obvious that he also had been hurting the last few months, that he didn’t want this to end, maybe even nearly as much as you did.

“You really flew all the way here because I sent you a photo?” you whispered.

He nodded. “Of course I did.”

“You realize how crazy that is, right?”

He chuckled dryly.

“Well, they do say it makes you do crazy things.”

“...it?” you asked, voice wavering.

He nodded.

Oh.

“Come inside,” you murmured. “It’s pretty cold out there.”

As soon as the door was shut behind him, he began spiraling into a new explanation.

“I hope you know that I didn’t come here just to - you’re right, it is kind of crazy, but I didn’t know what else to do, after everything that happened -”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” you said, cutting him off. “I don’t want to talk at all.”

You both stood there for a moment, eyes locked on eachother. Then, as if reading each other’s minds, you both moved at once - you crashed your lips into his, fast and desperate. He sighed against your lips, pulling you close as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

You felt like crying - you had missed him so much, more than you had realized - his voice, his warmth, his scent - it brought everything flooding back, the feelings you had buried in an attempt at self-preservation. But now, as you kissed him, you felt the tears well up, stinging your eyes as they rolled down your face, hot and fast.

“Whoa - baby, it’s okay - what’s wrong -”

Baby.

“Nothing,” you cried, wiping the tears away. “I just - I really fucking missed you.”

You felt stupid to admit it, but then again, didn’t he come close to confessing that himself just a few moments ago?

“I know, I know, baby - you have no fuckin’ idea -”

Another kiss, passionate and apologetic.

“I didn’t mean any of what I said that night,” you gasped, pulling him closer. “I was just so scared -”

“I know, me too, baby - m’sorry -”

Baby. Babybabybaby.

He was holding your face between his hands now, backing you up until you were pressed against the wall, his lips finding yours again. He titled his head down to nuzzle at your throat, pressing his lips to the sensitive skin there. You tipped your head back, giving him full access to do as he pleased. He kissed and nipped at your neck, until you were moaning and crying out his name, pulling at his coat until it fell off of his shoulders. You twisted your hands in his button-down, his hands squeezing tighter on your waist in response.

“Fuck, Steve,” you breathed. “I’m sorry -”

“Stop with that,” he said, firmly taking your face in his hands again, catching your lips in another gentle kiss. “You’re right, I just realy don’t want to talk anymore -”

Then he was kissing you again, swallowing your noises as you whined his name, fingers gripping his hair.

“Bedroom, now,” you told him. “Please -”

“Yeah, okay.”

He couldn’t keep his hands off of you, both of you stumbling down the small hallway and into your bedroom, Steve slamming the door closed behind him with his foot.

“No Robin?” he asked, lips finding your neck again.

“No - ah! She’s at Vickie’s tonight -”

“Thank Christ,” he growled. “I don’t know how quiet I’m capable of being right now.”

He was apparently as desperate as you were, lips finding yours hungrily as he pulled your oversized t-shirt over your head, eyes practically rolling to the back of his head when he saw your breasts.

“No bra?” he asked.

“I was lounging around, until you showed up -”

“Thank god,” he practically snarled, his hands finding the small of your back to pull you close.

You reached between yourselves, unbuttoning his shirt, fingers slipping as they shook with anticipation. He reached down to help you, until he eventually shrugged the shirt off. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your bare chest to his, nearly crying again from the contact.

“I really missed you,” he whispered, a man ruined. “I never thought I’d be able to have you like this again -”

“None of that,” you murmured, pressing a finger to his lips. “It’s alright.”

You just stared at him, running your hands down his chest as you took a deep breath.

“I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” he asked, face flickering with concern. “Oh god, are - are you seeing someone else? I didn’t even ask -”

“No! No, nothing like that,” you assured, biting your lip. “I just - do you remember the night of my birthday on our trip, on the rooftop?”

He nodded. “That was a really nice night.”

“I haven’t been totally honest with you,” you admitted, heart racing as you were ready to lay out the thing you had been terrified to admit aloud.

“About what?” he asked softly, cupping your cheek gently with his palm.

“Remember when I said something in Italian, and you asked what it meant? And I just said it meant I loved the gift, the star thing?”

He nodded. You took a deep, shuddering breath.

“That wasn’t exactly true. I - I said that I was in love with you,” you managed, voice quivering at the end. “That’s why I was so scared - I didn’t realize until I said it… I had broken our rule, our number one rule -”

“Hey, hey -” he cooed, shaking his head. “Did you mean it?”

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah - I still do.”

The few seconds that passed after that had your stomach doing somersaults - what if he still didn’t feel that way, and everything he had said in the doorway was bullshit? You thought you were going to be sick -

But his face softened, his eyes glistening - was he going to cry?

“Fuck the rules. I stopped following those a long time ago,” he said.

Your heart fluttered, your face heating.

“Are you saying -”

“How did you say it in Italian again?” he asked. “I’m sorry, I’ve been slacking on my lessons without you around.”

You laughed. “Oh, um, it’s sono innamorato di te. It translates directly as I’m in love with you, or I’m falling for you.”

He nodded. “Well then - sono innamorato di te.”

You felt like your chest was about to explode, and before you knew it, you were crying again. He was too, you realized, his cheeks glistening with tears as he choked a sob with laughter.

“We could’ve saved ourselves a lot of trouble if we both just said that in the first place,” he said, reaching to wipe away some of your tears.

“How long?” you asked.

“Since the night of the gala I brought you to. So… longer. I guess I win.”

You sobbed again, Steve swallowing the sound with another kiss. It’s wet and salty with tears, a mess of apologies and confessions.

“Steve - I -”

“I know, baby,” he whispered, kissing your salty cheeks. “It’s alright - I’m here now -”

The conversation truly stopped after that - you couldn’t keep your hands off of one another, shedding clothes until you were nude and devouring each other with desperation unlike anything you had ever felt before.

Steve was pressing his lips between your breasts when you asked, voice breathy and filled with need.

“Steve - I need you, please -”

“Mm - yeah, okay -”

Before he could move, you were reaching down to grasp his cock in your hand. He gasped, pupils blown as his head thumped back against the wall. The noise that came out of him was unholy, wrecked and ruined as you brushed your thumb along his leaking tip.

“Christ, baby -”

“Can I suck you off, please?” you asked, desperate to make him come undone.

“Honey - you can’t - I just, I wanna fuck you so bad… I won’t last if I let you get your mouth on me, baby.”

You pouted, even as your heart raced with the thrill of knowing you’d have him inside you again.

“Next time,” he said, “I swear.”

A promise of a next time, of a thousand more times - you started kissing him again, lips bruising his - losing yourself in any drink or drug would never compared to losing yourself in Steve Harrington, you decided.

“Get on the bed,” he muttered, gently pushing you back. You did as he asked, falling back onto the mattress gently as he joined you, face hovering inches from yours.

His hair was a mess, pupils blown and lips glossy. He just shook his head, as if in disbelief.

“What?” you asked.

“You’re just so beautiful,” he breathed.

You felt your face heat, and you buried your face in your hands.

“Shut up.”

“About you? Not likely.”

Before you could come up with a clever remark, he was kissing your neck again, his lips traveling down slowly between the valley of your breasts, taking his time - he was going to leave bruises, you already knew.

But he didn’t stop, traveling down, down, down -

“What are you -”

“I never said I didn’t want to taste you first,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “I miss having my mouth on you so fuckin’ much -”

“Fuck,” you gasped. “You’re unreal -”

“Says you,” he retorted. Whatever you planned to say next died on your lips, anything resembling a coherent thought dissolving as his lips found your cunt.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, back arching as his tongue swirled around your clit.

“Just as fuckin’ sweet as I remembered,” he whispered, his breath against your pussy making your chest heave.

He licked a stripe along your slit, making your back arch off the bed, your eyes fluttering closed.

“Be loud for me, baby,” he murmured, lips finding your clit again. You did as he asked, moaning and crying out his name as he devoured your pussy, eliciting desperate sounds from you as your fingers wound themselves in his hair. He groaned as you pulled on his locks, encouraging you to continue doing so as he opted to slide a finger inside you.

“Fuck - Steve! Ohmygod, fuck -”

You felt him smile as he lapped and licked at your folds, adding a second finger and beginning to pump them in earnest, finding that spot inside of you too easily.

You were crying out, bucking your hips against Steve’s lips, like putty in his hands. For about ten minutes you were completely his, mind numb with pleasure as he took you apart with his mouth. You let him, feeling the blunt fingernails of his free hand digging into your thigh, pulling you as close as possible.

“Steve - I’m gonna - I’m so close, y’feel too good -”

Encouraged, he picked up the pace a bit, sending you completely over the edge. When you came, you saw stars, grinding down on Steve’s mouth and fingers. You were screaming, and he helped you through it, nuzzling against your core as you pulsed around his fingers. Your hand left his hair and found his temple, gently coaxing him closer as you rode out your orgasm.

You were still breathing heavily as he kissed his way slowly back up your body, worshiping every inch of skin he could find. YOu didn’t let your eyes open again until he was face-to-face with you, chin glistening with your release as he wore a smug grin.

“Such a good girl for me,” he murmured. “Tasted so good… you came so hard for me -”

“Mm -” you hummed, pulling him down for a kiss. You tasted yourself on him, the sensation completely euphoric.

“Do you need some time?” he asked gently.

You ran a finger over your clit, still sensitive and puffy, and shook your head.

“No, I’m okay - I actually really need you to fuck me.”

“Thank god,” he said, exasperated. “I don’t think I can go another second without fucking you -”

“I know -”

“I would dream about you, you know - all the time. I’d wake up in the middle of the night with a hard-on, of a mess in my boxers like a fuckin’ teenager -”

“I know what you mean,” you admitted, recalling a few times you had thought of him as you touched yourself since he’d left.

“Please tell me you’re still on the fuckin’ pill -”

“Yeah, I am - God, Steve -”

“I know, I know - ready baby?”

You nodded, locking your eyes with his as he positioned himself above you, pushing inside of you ever so slowly. You could tell he was holding back, doing everything he could to not enter you in one rough movement. You winced at the stretch, nearly forgetting just how big he was. He kissed apologies across your face, gasping as he felt your warm walls envelope him.

“Fuck -” he groaned, burying his face in your neck. “I can’t believe I went so long without this - you feel so fuckin’ perfect, baby - such a tight, perfect pussy -”

“You feel so good,” you breathed, digging your fingernails into his shoulderblades. “Steve - I’m so full, please fuck me -”

He did as you asked, rolling his hips against yours, eliciting a groan from both of you. He was still holding back you could tell - but you didn’t have time for that, not after months of missing him, of missing this -

“Let go, baby,” you whispered. “Please -”

“What did you just call me?” he asked.

“I - baby,�� you repeated. You realized you never had before - was that wrong?

“Say it again,” he breathed.

“Baby,” you breathed, gasping as he thrust into you a little harder.

“Baby, please - fuck me, let go,” you cried.

It became fast and hard quickly, the desperation you shared impossible to mask. The slapping of his hips against yours was positively dirty, Steve’s arms caging you underneath him as he pounded into you. Your hand snaked down between you, your own finger finding your clit.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, continuing his relentless pace. “Touch yourself for me, just like that - M’not gonan last long, I’m sorry, you just feel too good -”

“It’s okay,” you assured, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I want you to lose it.”

He groaned, the room filling with the sound of slapping skin and moans, your names on each other’s lips.

Nothing else mattered, not when Steve was making you feel like this, not when he had flown across an ocean on a whim, a desperate hope to just see you again, even if only for a moment. You suddenly became so overwhelmed with love for this man, this person who had turned your world upside down - it was indescribable, impossible to even express. So you just held him tight, burying your face into his shoulder.

“M’close - I need you to come with me, baby - can you do that? I know you can, you’re always so good for me -”

You nodded, unable to formulate words anymore.

“I fuckin’ love you,” he cried, hips stuttering, his thrusts growing sloppier. “So much, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you - I love you, baby -”

His words sent you over the edge, white-hot pleasure surging through your body as you screamed his name. The feeling of you clamping around him sending him into his own orgasm. He spilled inside of you, your name on his lips like a prayer. He practically collapsed on top of you, the feeling of his heartbeat against yours feeling like home, like it was always meant to be this way.

Your breaths were labored, sweet kisses peppered across skin. Neither of you spoke for quite some time. After he rolled off of you, he immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you as close as physically possible.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, slow and gentle. It was only when you pulled back, brushing some of his sweaty hair away from his face, that you broke the silence.

“I love you, too,” you murmured. You brushed your fingers along his face, and he caught your wrist, pressing kisses to your palm and knuckles, as if determined to worship you every chance he got.

“I want more than an arrangement,” he whispered. “I don’t want rules, or a deal, or -”

“Yeah, that was obvious,” you replied, chuckling. “And, me too.”

“And, you were right - you have school, and I never wanted you to think I just wanted you like a trophy or something - you have your own life, aspirations, and i know that - I just like spoiling you, but I never wanted you to give up who you are,” he said, face soft. “I need you to know that.”

“I do,” you murmured.

You really did.

“Besides, I graduated.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What? When?”

“Officially? A few days ago.”

He smiled, soft and sincere - part of you was worried he might cry again.

“Congratulations - I’ll have to take you out to celebrate.”

“Mm - sounds good to me. How long - when are you here until?”

There was still life to reckon with, after all - living on two different continents, jobs, obligations - the kind of thing that could ruin this. But, he just shook his head.

“I bought an open-ended ticket. So, until whenever you want.”

“I - what? What about work?”

He shrugged. “Turns out, when you run the place, you can get away with that stuff.”

Your jaw dropped.

“What? Are you serious?”

He nodded. “Brenner’s out. I’m in - youngest CEO in the company’s history.”

You laughed, pressing your palm to your forehead as you stared at the ceiling in disbelief.

“Steve - that’s amazing. But how -”

“Shhh - we’ll figure everything out later. But, let’s at least ring in the new year together, yeah?”

You nodded cautiously - he really was here, now, and wanted to make it work.

“Okay,” you said. “Sounds good.”

“Hey - you know what’s really pissing me off, though?”

“What?” you asked, wary as a pit of dread formed in your gut.

“I have to thank Eddie fucking Munson for fixing this.”

You laughed, a real, hearty laugh, and in that moment, you realized things were going to be okay.

******

That night, you slept better than you had in months, safe and warm in Steve’s arms. That was, until you woke to Robin’s scream the next morning, both of you shooting up in bed with a start.

“WHAT IS HE DOING IN YOUR BED?” she cried, shielding her eyes. “God - I wish I could bleach my eyes - motherfucker -”

Then, the door was slamming shut, Robin bemoaning her luck as she bolted down the hall to her own room.

You felt your face heat with embarrassment, sinking under the covers.

“Well - I guess I owe her an explanation -”

“Later,” Steve saidly, shaking his head incredulously. “For Christmas, I’m getting you a fucking industrial lock for that door!”

Then you were laughing, blissful and unable to control yourself, Steve joining you. He kissed the giggles away, pulling your body to his, and not much talking happened after that.

It didn’t matter what real life held after this - because Steve was here, and he was yours. Wherever you ended up, you realized, if you were with Steve, you would be home.

He was here to stay.

author's note: Hi y'all - thanks for your patience! This story isn't quite done - there will be an epilogue posted tomorrow. But, that's essentially the conclusion of don't call me 'baby' - I told you it would be a happy ending! Shoutout to @is-writing for some help with this. And of course as always, Em, without whom this fic wouldn't have happened. Comments, reblogs, and messages are always welcome - keep an eye out for the epilogue!

#steve harrington #steve harrington/reader smut #steve harrington/you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington smut #steve harrington/reader angst #steve harrington/fem!reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #dcmb fic

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angry-geese · 1 year

Text

Sea, Swallow Me

Satoru Gojo x Reader

Warnings: not OSHA compliant. hurt/comfort, light angst, ex-husband Gojo. angry/hate sex, unprotected sex, oral (cunnilingus), fingering.

Synopsis: some ex-husband Gojo smut except him and the reader are still totally in love with each other >:)

a/n: this has been rattling around in my drafts since like march and I finally got my thoughts gathered enough to write it out lol

Word Count: 4.7k

jjk masterlist

Outside, the sky grows dark, signaling an incoming storm. The weather report called for it yesterday; off and on thunderstorms all night, and well into this afternoon. Not uncommon for this time of year. This morning’s grocery trip was one made with the hope of being back before another downpour started, and from the looks of it, you were successful.

Typically, when you come home, the cat is the first thing to greet you. Today, even after she hears your keys hit the counter, she remains just out of view. You don't mind it so much, even if you do find it odd. It gives you time to put away groceries, and the treats you bought for her without her begging for anything.

The foul weather makes it as good a day as any to spend inside. Plenty of chores need to be done around your apartment, as work has begun to consume much of your free time. That’s nothing new. Certain times of the year are busier than others at Jujutsu Tech. It certainly doesn't help that two people are out due to injuries, and another is on maternity leave, meaning you’re on call nearly 24/7.

The cat makes herself known only after she hears a can of food open, chirping as she trots into the kitchen. She stays long enough to finish eating, and get some pets from you, before settling into her spot on the window sill, intently watching leaves being blown around outside. You settle on preparing dinner: thawing meat, and chopping veggies for a soup that’ll take nearly an hour to simmer.

A noise from the other room draws your attention; in the living room, the TV is on—something you vividly remember shutting off. A drama was playing, but the lead was giving you such bad second-hand embarrassment that you just had to shut it off.

Maybe you really are starting to lose it.

You’ve seen it happen to others. The stress of the job—this way of life—gets to some. You could chalk it up to forgetting; maybe the cat stepped on the remote, or maybe you really did just forget. Come to think of it, didn't you turn off the lights in the kitchen before leaving too?

The back of your neck prickles with fear. Did someone really break in? You know this isn't a particularly nice part of town, but the chance of that happening is unlikely. Besides, there is no sign of forced entry. It's just a feeling of being watched. Nothing is missing, just some lights are on, and the books on your coffee table have been moved around, as if someone looked through them. Why go through the trouble then?

Nothing in particular tips you off to the presence behind you. It comes suddenly, and without warning. Fight or flight kicks in. With your elbow and wrist parallel to your collarbone, you swing outwards.

Any normal person's elbow would have been shattered by that hit. Satoru blocks it with little effort. He uses the weight of your movement against you, allowing you to fall against him. It doesn't take much time for you to realize what he’s doing, and shove yourself away from him.

“You broke in?” You say, although your voice doesn't carry any surprise. “I gotta admit, Satoru, that's a new low.”

“Technically I didn't,” he says, “I explained to the guy up front that I was your husband and he let me in.”

Internally, you curse your landlord, a sweet old man by the name of Saito. He was one of the few people who would let you move in on such short notice. This was never meant to be a permanent placement, but you suppose you don't have much to complain about here. It's an older building, but maintenance is consistent, and the interior has been completely redone. Your neighbors are quiet, pleasant people, and this is a nice corner of the neighborhood. Not nearly as luxe as your previous home, but not bad either.

As he sits down on the couch, the cat jumps straight into his lap. You know it's not fair to project human emotions onto her. She's just a cat. But you swear you see a smug little look on her face. She chirps, and bumps her head against his hand, purring loud enough it's audible across the room.

“I think I would have rather dealt with a house robber,” you say.

“I mean, if you're into that kind of thing,” he says, “I can put the mask back on. We'll roleplay…”

“Absolutely not,” you say, snatching the remote for the tv, switching it off, “what do you want?”

Even sitting, he’s nearly eye-level with you. His hand comes up to tug at the silver chain around his neck. You don't know whether to feel angry, or sorry for him. Gojo is almost pathetic enough that you feel bad for him. Almost.

“What?” He asks, feigning hurt. “I can't drop in to say hello to my lovely wife?”

“Ex-wife,” you say.

Despite your current irritation with him, the separation was about as amicable as it could be. Although it’s not official in the legal sense yet, the two of you have been living separately for months now. There was no great turning moment in your relationship, just a lifetime of little things that forced a wedge between you two. These things happen. You were young when you married, and so consumed with grief that perhaps there wasn't enough thought put into it. You don't blame yourself for it, or for anything that happened. At the age of eighteen, you had a skewed view of the world. Mistakes were common at that age. That’s just part of growing up. You were young, and every emotion felt so much more potent back then. It felt right at the time. Hell, it was right.

Maybe you still love him. It’s hard to spend so much time with someone—have so many memories with them—and not love them.

“Tsumiki has a game Saturday,” he says, “you coming?”

You're slightly offended at the suggestion you would miss it. She sent you a text about it nearly a week ago. You swore to her you'd make it, even going as far as to make arrangements to leave work early.

“Of course I am.” You say. “I’ll take her—I’m off work early anyway.”

It's better for the kids that you remain an active part in their life. Megumi and Tsumiki have already dealt with so much upheaval in their life. It's cruel enough that one caregiver left them, but two?

You tell yourself you couldn't do that to them. That alone was enough to get you to stay in your old apartment for a few more months. By then, the kids knew something was up. They're smarter than people give them credit for, and there's only so many excuses you can make for sleeping in separate rooms.

It's been maybe a year since then. Six months since you moved out. You wouldn't call it easy, but you’ve settled into your new routine quite nicely.

“Great,” he says, “why not go together then? I’ll drive. We can get dinner together afterwards.”

Your mouth opens in protest. Although it’s phrased as a question, you know him better than that. Satoru will do everything to weasel his way into this situation. Your barely-pleasant expression sours entirely.

“No, thank you,” you say, gesturing to the door, “now get out of my house.”

“Don't be like that, baby,” he says. His arms stretch out towards you, and you immediately dart out of their path.

“I hated you calling me that when we were married,” you say, “what makes you think I’ve changed?”

“You haven't.” He says. “That’s why I’m still here.”

Within the air here hangs a rift that time won't heal. This room—this space—is too emotionally charged for you to think straight. Your head spins, clouded with anger and spite.

“Don't tell me you left the kids alone to come bother me?” You say.

Tsumiki is nearly fifteen, and pretty independent, but you don't like leaving the kids alone any longer than you have to.

“Of course not,” he says, almost looking offended, “Tsumiki is off at a sleepover, and I got your mother to watch Megs for the weekend.”

“You what?!”

A look of shock and betrayal crosses your face. You love your mother dearly, really, but sometimes she can be a bit… much. Early on into your marriage, she was asking when you were going to have children of your own. Being freshly twenty at the time, your answer to her was simple: never. Megumi and Tsumiki were enough. You wanted to be able to devote your time—and attention—to them, not a newborn.

Satoru catches you in your moment of shock, his arms snaking around your waist. Your hands plant on his wrists to shove them away, yet you stop yourself.

The sound of your phone ringing in the other room gives you a reason to escape. You free his arms from your waist, heading into the bedroom. You don't hear him get up to follow you, yet you know he does. Sitting on the table beside your bed, still charging, is your phone. It’s Tsumiki. You only glance at your phone long enough to see her name, not what she’s saying.

The end of the bed dips under his weight as he sits. He tries his best to be covert about it, but you feel his gaze wandering around the room. From the photos on the wall, to the papers on your desk, to the stuffed animals on your bed. Oh, you can hear his snide comments now.

“Those earrings are new,” he says. And you swear you hear a slight tone of disappointment in his voice. “Pretty.”

Goosebumps rise along your arm as he reaches out to feel it, brushing across your shoulder in the process. Crystals, although they may be glass, cut to look like gems, dangling from your ears. They’re blue in color; not a light slate, but a deep cerulean. Subtle enough that they’re rather unnoticeable from a distance.

“Shoko gave them to me,” you say.

She took pity on you once she found out about the divorce. Maybe she felt partially responsible, seeing as she was the one who introduced you two.

Getting sent off to the religious boarding school known as Jujutsu Technical college was a major blow to your teenage social life. At fifteen, all you wanted was to go to a normal high school with your normal friends. Yet you weren't granted such a luxury, and instead were thrown into a world you knew nothing about. You quickly found solace, and a strange kind of companionship in the girl that smoked behind the school: Ieiri Shoko.

If you didn't end up marrying him, you probably would have married her.

For you, it wasn't love at first sight. You could barely stand him in the beginning. It was a rivalry that slowly turned into friendship, ending in romance, albeit with much prodding from Suguru and Shoko. Teenage love consumed the two of you harshly, and entirely.

It wouldn't be until years later, after the wedding, when you would find out they bet on it.

You don't push him away when he kisses you. Just a peck, nothing more. Like you’re teenagers, exchanging affections in the stairwell between classes. When the higher ups would get upset at you, not him, because he was the strongest and could get away with just about everything.

Of course you still love him. How couldn't you?

You were one of the first to look at him as something other than the strongest. Even after the star plasma vessel, and Toji Zenin. Even after Suguru’s death. Even through your own grief, your presence was constant. To him, the concept of not having you around was strange.

The taste of coffee and lipstick lingers on your lips. Your thumb comes up to wipe away the smudge of red that’s transferred to his lips. And you, so pliable and eager, fall right into his lap.

His lips find your neck, hands wandering from your arms, to your chest, to your waist. He’s savoring your closeness—the scent of your shampoo: coconut. Little do you know, he keeps a bottle of the stuff in his own bathroom. If anyone asks, he claims it’s Tsumiki’s. Only you would know otherwise. She hates the stuff, and has been buying her own since the moment she was able to. Really, he keeps it around because he can't bring himself to throw it away.

“Satoru, we shouldn't do this.” You say. You don't really want him too, it’s only to preserve your pride.

Then why is your body responding so well to him? Your body knows this routine. Maybe the last several months of living alone has sped up the process considerably. Blood rushes where it needs to be, and perhaps most shamefully of all, you’re wet. Although you’re not quite prepared yet, it’s just in the early stages of gathering.

A line of saliva connects his lips and your neck as he pulls away. “If you really wanted me gone, I wouldn't still be here,” he says.

You tell yourself that, if you really wanted him to stop, then you wouldn't have spent so many nights dreaming of this. You wouldn't reach out to the cold spot on the bed beside you. Your subconscious wouldn't long for him in nearly every way imaginable.

His hands trace across your waist, coming to take yours. They’re warm, albeit a bit shaky. He’s just itching to undress you—to claim what’s his. It's a sick, possessive side of him that’s only fueled by your recent months apart. He comes to kneel before you like a man bowed in prayer. Satoru sits in worship, but not for the favor of a higher being. You might as well be one to him. Should you wish it, the strongest—wielder of the six eyes—would worship the very ground before you. That devotion would soon become suffocating. It was a bandaid on an already failing relationship.

“Still want me to stop?” He asks, squeezing your hands. Whether that’s on purpose, or an accident, you can't tell. “You say no and I’ll stop here. Just give me the word and we won't ever have to do this again.”

In this moment, your body betrays you: you shake your head. You don't truly want him to go; you know that, he knows that. He wouldn't be poking and prodding at every little unhealed wound if that wasn't the case.

“I need to hear you say it,” he says. That’s when you notice what’s on the chain around his neck: his wedding ring.

It's like he’s mocking you. Of course he still has it. Of course he saw that yours was still sitting on the bathroom counter.

Satoru has always been like this. He pokes and prods, finding out where you’re weak. What cracks or wounds he can press his fingers into. Pushing boundaries comes natural to him.

Maybe you’ve changed. Maybe he hasn't changed at all.

“I just want to get off,” you say.

“Poor baby,” he coos, “you haven't gotten off at all while I was gone, have you? You should have called me. I would have taken care of you.”

“I think I'd rather call Nanami for that.” You say.

The chuckle he lets out sounds nervous. “I know you're joking,” he says, “but judging by the way he looks at you? I think he'd take you up on the offer.”

You believe it. It was a thinly veiled secret that Nanami harbored a little crush for you. The man would never go as far as to pursue his coworker, let alone his coworker's ex wife. This entire time, he’s kept a respectful distance, only speaking about your marriage if you expressed a want to do so. You’ve considered it. Hell, you’ve given it a lot of thought. You think maybe… just maybe, if the two of you were drunk or desperate enough, something could happen. But fraternizing with coworkers in such a way is ill-advised.

Satoru is going to give him hell tomorrow when he sees him at work. Nanami will be none the wiser, assuming Satoru is up to his usual antics.

“One last chance to back out of this,” he says, “if you don't want to do this…”

“Are you going to fuck me or not?” You ask.

His fingers trace down the curve of your spine, before coming to the hem of your sweater, pulling it up—and over—your head. From him comes an audible little gasp once he realizes you have no bra on underneath. That part wasn't intentional; you need to do laundry, and your shirt was baggy enough that a bra wasn't necessary. Your nipples stiffen once exposed to the open air. Although you know how this looks, it sends a pang of self-consciousness through you, causing you to cross your arms in front of your chest. It’s not like he hasn't seen this before. Maybe it's a last ditch attempt to preserve your pride. And he’s nearly tripping over himself to undress, pulling off his coat, then button-up, then trousers. Off comes your skirt, the silky fabric pooling around your feet.

If you could stop for a moment and think, it would be endearing: the desperation that falls over you two like teenagers. He can hardly keep his hands off you, while you don't quite know what to do with yours. Eventually, you settle on wrapping your arms around his neck.

You sit on the edge of the bed before him, still in your panties. Plain black. Nothing fancy, but cute. Maybe if you knew…

You almost scold yourself for thinking such things. It’s not like you had any way of knowing this would happen. You know part of it was to preserve your pride. Being able to move on without seeming like you needed him. He’s not your husband anymore; why go through the effort of getting dressed up?

Beside you, on the bed, he finds a spot to sit. He’s half hard already. His hands ghost up the outsides of your arms, before coming to cup your face. They soon fall to your waist as you move to straddle his lap.

Satoru leans in to kiss you, and it’s… uncharacteristically sweet. That almost makes things worse. If this were something over and done with quickly, that would be tolerable. You could chalk it up to raw emotions or hormones or something other than the fact you still have feelings for him and haven't come to terms with that.

Sex for the sake of mindless pleasure is one thing. It’s tolerable. You can explain it away easily. But the way he handles you—like you’re going to break—sends a pang of pain through your chest. It's too much. Should he act selfishly, that would be far more bearable than this.

You almost want him to. It would be so much easier if he just took what he wanted, and left.

“Lay back,” he says, “like that. Good girl.”

You scoot back on the bed just far enough to fall against the pillows. Your thighs part just enough to accompany him. The body above yours is warm. His lips find yours, then your neck, then one of your stiffened nipples, softly biting down on it. That draws a sharp gasp from you, although the shock it sends down your spine is rather pleasurable.

His fingers hook under the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your legs slowly. Achingly slowly. Shamelessly, his eyes linger on the way they stick to your already slick cunt. This moment is only dragging out because he wants it to. They’re tossed away alongside the rest of your clothes. Long, deft fingers come to trace along your slit; teasing motions done by a man who can barely contain himself. The patience of Satoru Gojo has limits, and you’re testing them.

He palms himself through his boxers. He's completely hard now. That doesn't stop him from trailing long, sloppy kisses down your stomach, and up your thigh. His thumb traces across the bundle of nerves. Slow and steady. Just enough to get you aching for him, but not enough to get you anywhere. You try to angle your hips towards him—to grind against him—but Satoru cruelty pulls his hand away.

“Just… let me have my moment,” he says, chest heaving as he breathes in.

So he admits it…

His thumb is soon replaced with his mouth, greedily licking and sucking at the bundle of nerves that is your clit. There's little rhyme or reason but it's just messy enough that it'll get you off. First, his index finger pushes into you, then another. Satoru must be moaning nearly as loud as you. The hand that isn't fucking out is wrapped around his cock, and he's bucking into it like it's a warm body. Judging by the noises he's making, he's going to cum, so he stops himself before he does so. You don't. Satoru guides you through your own orgasm, his mouth leaving your clit only after you've stopped trembling. It felt rushed. You're not quite satisfied.

Satoru makes a show of licking his fingers. When he kisses you, this taste only grows more prominent. He's making you taste yourself and you're not quite sure how to feel about it. It's not unpleasant, akin to unripe persimmons in taste.

“Is it how you remember?" You ask, a coy expression spreading across your face.

“Different,” he says, “better.”

There’s no time to grab a condom. Not that you have any in here anyway. Whatever consequences that result from this will be dealt with in the morning.

A small groan leaves him as he bottoms out. It's obvious that he tries to stifle it, and fails, resulting in a noise that certainly has your neighbors questioning things. You'll avoid their gazes in the hall tomorrow morning. This won't become a regular thing, you tell yourself.

Hardly a few thrusts in and he knows he is going to cum too soon. You can see it all over his face. Pleasure turns to concentration, then thinly veiled stress. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills your bedroom. Some small, sick little part of you is grateful for your thin walls.

You hate him. You still love him. You wish he would walk out of your apartment right now. But part of you can't bear to sleep another night alone.

“You don't know how much I've been thinking about this,” he says, making a noise between a grunt and a huff, “about the way you feel. Taste. I couldn't get it out of my head.”

His mouth finds yours again and the kiss he exchanges with you is dripping with desperation. Something small, and quiet leaves his lips once they part with yours. You soon recognize it as an “I love you.”

He cums sooner than either of you expected, and from him, your name spills past his lips like a prayer. Though, you suppose that this is the closest he'll ever get to praying.

Your own release is still just out of reach. It doesn't take much effort to get him on his back, and you on top, riding him. He’s still hard, despite having just cum inside you. The fruits of his effort can be seen streaming down your thighs. Your movements grow sloppier as you grow nearer to your release, grinding down against him and his softening cock. Within your stomach, it’s as if an invisible band is tightening. Your own orgasm comes out in the form of a noise that sounds like both a moan and a sob. It's anger and pain mixing with pleasure. Tears of frustration are brimming along your lower lash line. You hate him. You love him. You wish he would leave but you don't want to sleep alone. A rift exists between the two of you that time will not heal.

Instead, you lay beside him on the bed. From beside you, he grabs a blanket for you to cover yourself with. As much as he missed the sight of your naked body, he knows this room is cold, and you’ll be getting up to get dressed anyway.

To him, there’s not a more beautiful sight: you, laying on the bed beside him, leaking of his cum. It would be better if it were his own bed, he thinks, but this'll do.

“I take it we’re on speaking terms again?” He asks.

“I don't know yet,” you say, “depends on how this conversation goes.”

From beside you on the nightstand, you retrieve your glasses, putting them back on. Outside, the sky still appears dark, only lit up momentarily by a bolt of lightning. The rain has slowed to a drizzle, running down your window in streams.

“Seems like great weather to stay in bed,” he comments.

An arm snakes around your waist. You debate with yourself on whether or not to shove it off.

“I think some time apart will do us good.” You say, and the arm around your waist stiffens. He seems to be deciding whether to pull away or not.

“And what? Couples therapy too?” His tone suggests he's making a joke, but not one in bad faith.

“Just in general, you need therapy,” you’re only half joking when you say it, despite it applying to you too, “but I don't think there's one that specializes in whatever you have going on.”

“Funny.” He says flatly.

He lays on his back on the bed, and you lay on your side, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“I don't know what I want.” You say, finally. “I guess I could use something to eat.”

You had plans to make a nice, elaborate dinner tonight, although you’re no longer feeling like it. You went through the effort of buying the ingredients, and cleaning the kitchen, so you might as well.

Satoru follows you as you make your way to the kitchen, stopping once to pull on a shirt. It used to be one of his, he notes. Maybe enough time has passed that you don't remember. Maybe you do. It’s just long enough to fall towards the middle of your thighs—you won't be giving the neighbors a show. He stops long enough to pull his boxers back on, leaving the rest of his clothes discarded on your bedroom floor.

From a cabinet, you retrieve two mugs. On goes the kettle to boil. He watches as you fill the french press with one… two… three scoops of coffee grounds. Just enough boiling water goes in to wet the grounds—they have to sit for a few minutes before the rest is poured in.

Your taste in coffee hasn't changed much over the years. You still take it with cream and sugar. Satoru—when he does drink coffee—takes it with enough sugar to make your teeth hurt.

“We must be on speaking terms,” he says, “otherwise I'd have been kicked out by now.”

“If I was going to kick you out, I would have done it before we had sex. Not after.” You say, taking a sip of your coffee.

Something about the casualness of this moment makes your chest ache; like the last year hasn't happened, and the two of you are just sharing a moment over coffee.

Neither of you notice the front door opening, nor the jingle of keys being inserted into the lock. Tsumiki, standing in the doorway, nearly drops what she’s holding: a book. Her eyes are wide with a mix of shock, before narrowing into anger.

“‘Miki!” You say, almost as shocked as her, if not moreso. “What are you doing here?”

“Returning this,” she says, holding up the book in her hand, “I sent you a text about it like an hour ago. What are you doing?!”

Truly, you don't have anything to say for yourself. Your mouth opens, and a few, broken fragments of an excuse come out. Satoru, looking nearly as surprised as you, simply waves to her, before disappearing into another room. That won't help your case at all.

“Having coffee,” you say, “we were just talking about your game on Saturday.”

She seems unconvinced. Tsumiki, like most teenagers, is a lot smarter than people give her credit for. Silently, she sets the book on the counter, before turning back towards the door.

“I’ll see you at dinner," she says, leaving.

#jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #not osha compliant #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #ive kinda forgotten how to tag stuff tbh

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sundrop-writes · 7 months

Note

sucking mikey off under his security desk… i’d give him the most sloppiest head of his life

okay bc the coloured text can be a bitch, a copy/paste of this thot for everyone with bad eyes like me:

sucking mikey off under his security desk… i’d give him the most sloppiest head of his life

(this is the most rambling bs ever, unedited, 700 words of pure thirst. descriptions of giving head/sloppy toppy, technically the reader's gender is never described. idk?? the nickname 'babe' is used toward the reader. enjoy!!)

Okay, I love this so much omg.

I think he would genuinely be the type of person who is very against public sex, or semi-public sex. He would hate the idea of getting caught, his stomach would absolutely curl with anxiety and he wouldn’t even consider touching you in public, nothing more than a peck on the mouth or holding hands. (Especially because he likes privacy because he likes having you all to himself. He does tend to feel jealous at the idea of anybody even catching a glimpse of you in a ‘compromised’ state.)

However, an abandoned old pizzeria is not exactly public.

Mike is the only one who has a key, and he would spot anybody even trying to come in through the front doors on the monitor. It’s still definitely not his ideal locale for a rendezvous - he’s the romantic type, and this place is about as far from romantic as it gets.

But when you come to visit him late one night, bringing him coffee and snacks and murmuring about how much you missed him as he greets you with a hug at the front door - he begins to realize that you can bring that spark of romance anywhere with you. Especially when you set up a cute little picnic in his office - the general creepiness of the locale is forgotten for a while.

When the two of you are finished eating he sits back in the chair in front of the monitors, telling you that you don’t have to stay, wishing you a safe ride home - and you surprise him when you come over and sit in his lap. Straddling him like that, he can feel the heat of your core pressed right up against his cock. A needy ache hits him like a truck, and when you begin kissing him and descending his body, he is reminded of that one simple fact:

He can’t say no to you.

Of course, he can always say ‘no’ to you - you are the sweetest, most understanding person ever. You love him.

But he never wants to say no to you.

When your hands undo his pants and get his cock out, he has to at least try to protest - if someone ever found out about this, somehow, surely this would be the kind of thing to get him fired.

“Babe-” He huffs out.

“Yes?” You look up at him with mischief bubbling in your eyes as you kiss the tip of his cock, and the bright pink head lets out the most pathetic dribble of precum.

He’s done for.

He doesn’t say anything further - he can’t muster up anything that wouldn’t be pathetic begging, and he doesn’t feel like drawing himself down to that level, not right now. Your mouth wraps around him and he grips onto the chair’s handles, biting into his lip hard - you quickly start up a rhythm bobbing your head, holding the base of his cock in a firm grip that spreads soreness to his balls, keeps him from cumming without your explicit permission.

It’s the most beautiful kind of torture.

Having your wet, hot, warm mouth wrapped around him is too perfect, feeling your tongue heavily pressed against the underside, feeling your spit pooling, thick and warm, running down your knuckles and wetting over his aching balls.

He tries to choke off his sounds in his chest, and you keep trying to drive them out of him. He keeps flickering his eyes back and forth between the sinful sight of your swelling slips wrapped around the thickness of his cock, bobbing up and down, and the monitors - he’s trying to tell himself that he’s still doing his job, watching over the place. (Even though there’s nothing to watch in this stupid old place.)

You pull off for a moment and shove your tongue into his weeping slit, licking up the precum leaking freely before you pull back to catch your breath - the whole time pumping your hand up and down his cock, using your own spit as lube, making your fingers shine in the low lighting and making him unconsciously cant his hips up to fuck your fist.

“You still want me to go home?” You ask, giving him a wicked little grin.

#anonymous #sundrop's thots #sundrop writes #sundrop answers #mike schmidt x y/n #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf movie fanfiction #five nights at freddy's movie

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banannabethchase · 4 months

Text

Dizzy Fun - also on AO3

Matt's decided on another one of his experiments: drunk sex. But Adam is all about safety, and insists that Matt tell him every single thing he wants him to do while drunk.

Title from Glow by Snow Wife.

“I think,” Matt says, with no fanfare as he walks into their locker room, “that went well.”

Adam raises an eyebrow. “Really,” he says. “You think me losing went well?”

“You didn’t lose,” Matt says, straddling his lap. “You wrestled to a draw.” He leans down and kisses Adam. “Wait until you see what me and Nick are planning tonight.”

“Yeah, that’s – less than soothing.” Adam frowns. “Hey, am I allowed to call the two of you Nick and Matt still?”

Matt nods. “Of course. You’re special. I won’t put any limits on you.” He leans in and kisses Adam’s forehead. “Also, I want you to eff me when I’m drunk.”

Adam would have been less surprised if his mustache got up and walked away. “Pardon?”

“I’ve never been drunk,” Matt muses, sliding to the side of the couch. The white suit does nothing to hide the fact that he’s already hard. It’d be cute, flattering, if it wasn’t baffling. “And I was talking to Dax, and he mentioned that drunk sex can be fun.”

“You – you were talking to Dax?” Adam pinches himself. He’s definitely awake. “Why?”

“Well, technically, I was going to fine him and Cash for littering, but I heard his sex idea and I got distracted.”

“Have I told you lately that I love you?” Adam leans in and kisses Matt’s temple. “Truly, that’s the dumbest idea you’ve ever had. I’m surprised they didn’t kill you for eavesdropping.”

“They didn’t see me,” Matt explains. “The suit made me sort of blend into the wall.”

“Okay, that’s a stretch,” Adam says with a sigh.

“Why?”

“Your spray tan is so orange you look like a tangerine,” Adam answers.

Matt’s jaw drops. “Rude.”

“Accurate.”

“You can be both.”

Adam sighs. “I think it’s easier to think that, maybe, you were not on their minds at all and didn’t realize you were there.” He resists the urge to ask Matt about this new attitude. If he does, then Matt has the opening to ask Adam about how much rage Swerve has unleashed in him, and he’s not even sure if he could answer it for himself. “You sure you want to fuck drunk? You don’t even like going near alcohol.”

Matt shrugs. “New year, new me, dumbass.” He grins.

“Don’t – don’t throw my own words back at me, you monster.” Adam flicks Matt’s ear. Matt winces and pouts. “Well, if you want to, then you’ll have to tell me exactly what you want beforehand.”

“Eff me,” Matt says, like it’s obvious. “Like usual. Maybe meaner, like that one time.”

Adam rolls his eyes. “That’s so unclear.”

“Is not!” Matt says. “So, what do you think I’d like? Tequila? Or beer. I know you like beer.”

Adam thinks about it. “Do you actually want to, like, taste the alcohol? Or is it a means to an end?”

“Means to an end,” Matt says. “I’d like to get absolutely smashed and then you wreck me.”

Sighing, Adam puts an arm around Matt and pulls him in. “You’re out of your goddamned mind, you know that?”

“You say that now,” Matt says, and Adam thinks he can hear the devious smile in the back of his tone, “wait until later tonight.”

It’s odd. Adam’s usually the one covered in blood, if there’s any blood to be had at all. Something about the previously pristine suit now covered in bright red splotches gets to him.

“Out,” he says, yanking Matt in by the lapels, “of your fucking mind.” He keeps the kiss quick, because he’s pretty sure people are watching and he’s not super fond of putting on a different kind of show. “Let’s get you back to the hotel.”

“Okay!” Matt says. “Let me just – let’s finish Rampage.”

Adam and his boner resist the urge to tell Matt to fuck Rampage. “Alright. I’ll go get our stuff together.” He leans in, unable to resist this one part. “And you can tell me all about what you want me to do to you when you’re drunk.”

Matt’s shoulders wiggle, clearly trying to fight off a shiver. “Okay.”

Adam’s whistling as he gets backstage, and avoids bumping into anyone. He’s not sure he’ll be able to quell his boner.

He watches Matt and Nick go absolutely out of their minds on the Rampage taping. Something about the blood still on the suits, the shift from Matt’s emotional chaos to something calm but still unhinged, is intriguing.

By the time anyone else gets back to the room, Adam’s picked up and packed away all of their stuff, leaving Nick’s things neatly organized but not put away.

“You hire a maid or something,” Nick asks, frowning. “The eff happened in here?”

“Nah,” Adam replies. “Wanted to get out of here sooner rather than later.”

“Jesus,” Nick groans. “I wish I was worse at figuring out when they two of you are doing one of your experiments.”

“This one is not mine,” Adam says firmly.

“That is worse,” Nick says, lowering himself onto the couch. “You see how knowing it’s my brother’s weird sex plan is worse, right?”

“Go fuck Claudio,” Adam suggests.

Nick rolls his eyes. “Please. He’s decided to make things official with Breeze.”

“He has?” Adam asks. “Are you – are you okay?” He frowns. “Like, didn’t you two have a thing for a while.”

“I’m good,” Nick says, and he looks it. “He’s younger than I think I want.” Adam’s about to ask if that means he’s going back to Christian, but then Matt skips in. “Okay!” he says, hair still wet from his post-match shower. “Ready!”

“Leaving,” Nick says, hands in the air. “I don’t want to know.”

Matt squishes himself along Adam. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Adam adjusts the backpack on his shoulder. “You sure are eager.”

“I have things to tell you,” Matt says. He somehow leans in even closer. “Sexy things.”

“Quit being horny at work,” Adam says, laughing as they leave the room. But he should probably tell himself the same. It’s all he can do not to drag them two of them in a random closet. Adam’s on Matt the second they get to the hotel room, dropping the bags on the floor before the door’s even swung shut. He’s lucky Matt’s finally stopped with the whole flirting with maître d’s – it makes it easier to get him where he wants him.

“What do you want?” Adam asks, shoving Matt against the wall. “When you’re drunk, what do you want me to do?”

“Surprise,” Matt murmurs. He keeps leaning in to kiss Adam, but Adam tilts his head. Matt latches on, biting, and Adam laughs.

“C’mon, baby, with something like this, I gotta know all the little details.” He slides his hands down the back of Matt’s sweatpants to get a handful of his ass. “Otherwise it’s a no.”

Matt whines and pulls away. “A no?”

“You gotta tell me what you want,” Adam says. “Or, maybe better, show me.”

Matt presses his lips together and nods. “I, um.” He swallows. Adam fights back his grin – he loves making Matt verbalizes his desires, loves making sure Matt knows that’s part of the fun. It’s interesting to watch Matt struggle with this one – almost like he didn’t think quite about what it all entails.

“Well, first,” he starts off, “I want you to sort of, I don’t know, carry me in here?”

“Can do.” Adam bends and lifts Matt in his arms. “Like this?”

Matt rolls his eyes. “This is more bridal carry than fireman, but I’ll take it for now.”

“Noted.” With a grunt, Adam adjusts Matt so he’s flung over his shoulder.

“Yes, like that,” Matt says. “Then you’ll throw me onto the bed, once the door’s closed and everything."

Adam does as Matt suggests, Matt bouncing off the mattress. “Now what?”

“You, um.” Matt flames red. “I’ll be a little out of it, right?”

“Maybe,” Adam says. He actually isn’t sure how much he’ll let Matt drink – no more than three over the hour, at the absolute limit. He doesn’t want Matt to be sick. But he’ll watch it in the moment. “More like loose and silly. Maybe a little weepy. We won’t know until it happens, but I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

Matt nods. “But, like,” and his eyes start to sparkle, “I’ll need help getting out of my clothes.” He flops like a starfish on the bed. “Maybe the buttons are too hard for me.”

“Oh, you want me to undress you,” Adam says. “I can do that.” He locks eyes with Matt and takes his time. Matt’s not wearing anything with buttons – just a tee shirt and sweats, but he takes his time untying the drawstring, shuffling the pants down, pulling the shirt over Matt’s head. “And your boxers?”

“I don’t want to wear any.”

“Okay, that’s mean,” Adam says, sighing. “You – you’re wearing them now, but you ruined the surprise for the night we do it? Mean.”

“Maybe it was time we flipped the script.” Matt looks pleased with himself, almost haughty. “Boxers off, please.”

Adam does what he’s asked. “Jesus, you’re already ready to go.”

“Shut up,” Matt says, flaming pink. “You would be, too.”

Adam leans back on his knees on the bed. “Now what would you like.”

“Well,” Matt says. “Eff me. Obviously.”

Adam grins, shoving his pants down his hips. He pulls his shirt off over his head as he steps out of his jeans. “Obviously, huh.”

“May – maybe with me on my back?” Matt stretches out on the bed, arms over his head. “Legs up around your shoulders?”

“We could make that happen.” Adam steps over to Matt’s bedside table.

“I got it,” Matt says, eager. He pulls the drawer open and slams it closed before Adam can even see what he grabbed. “I’ll want it fast, so you should get me ready all fast, too.” He sits up and shoves the bottle of lube into Adam’s hand.

“You always want it fast,” Adam says, tsking. “How?”

“This part maybe…” He trails off and rolls over, pushing his ass in the air. “Like this.”

Adam slides a slide finger between Matt’s cheeks. He moans. “Oh, okay. I like that. Can – can you – maybe…” He cuts off with a gasp as Adam traces his rim.

“C’mon,” Adam encourages. “What?”

“Smack my – my ass,” Matt says. “Handprint?”

Adam pulls back and smacks Matt hard enough to rock him forward on his knees.

“Just like that,” Matt murmurs. He throws a grin over his shoulder, and it’s almost cute enough to forget about the godforsaken facial hair. “Come on.”

Adam gives in, working one and then two fingers in Matt. “Like this?” he asks, with another light slap.

“I think this is exactly what I’ll want,” Matt breathes. “But – now. Eff me now.”

“You sure?” Adam asks teasing a third finger. “You’re ready?” The next slap sounds almost as loud as Matt’s moan.

“Yes, I am,” Matt says. When Adam pulls his fingers free, Matt flips on his back and lifts his hips. “Let’s go, big man.”

Adam reacts to that more intensely than he’d expected and he’s lined up to slide home before he knows it. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Matt breathes. “Just like this, when I’m drunk. And no, I don’t want a condom.”

“Noted,” Adam says, and he pushes in. He breathes with it. “God, you always feel so good,” he mumbles, circling his hips. Matt’s legs are around his ribs, not his shoulders, but the angle is working so he isn’t going to change it. Matt’s hands are braced on the bed, balanced on his shoulders.

“Your balance is ridiculous,” Adam mentioned.

“Okay, workout routine compliments, not sexy for when we have drunk sex,” Matt says.

“You also probably won’t be able to make that,” Adam nods at the shoulder lift, “happen if you’re trashed.” Matt pouts. “What? You want it to be realistic, right? And I want to make sure I know exactly what you want.”

Matt sighs and relaxes a little, then rolls his eyes back. “Oh, my god.”

“What?”

“Good – good angle, keep doing that.”

Adam’s not one to deny Matt the last brownie, let alone this.

“Like this,” Matt says. “Go. Go wild on me.”

Adam thinks he does his best, but Matt’s face isn’t as screwed up as it can be.

“C’mon,” Matt begs. “I want it harder. I’ll want you to make it hard for me to walk in the morning.” He moans when Adam snaps his lips. “I’ll – I’ll want you to do whatever you want to me, I always do.”

Adam’s brain spins. “Yeah?”

“All the time,” Matt breathes. “Do you want me all the time?” His pupils are massive, eclipsing any of the dark doe brown Adam feel in love with so many years ago.

“Always,” Adam says, voice low. And it’s true. “I always want you, Matt.”

“You do?” Matt asks, mewling when Adam hikes his legs up a little higher, dropping his calves on Adam’s shoulders. “You want me?”

“I want you,” Adam promises. “Sometimes I see you out there in the ring and I want – I want to stomp out there and fuck you, just like this, while the cameras roll.” He rolls his hips, frantic, insistent.

“You should.” Matt’s hands are twisted in the sheets, eyes screwed shut. “Wednesday, you should.”

“Yeah?” Adam says. “We’d get arrested.”

“Worth it,” Matt laughs. Adam wants to burn that smile in the back of his eyelids. “I’d let you do anything to me.” He opens his eyes, and his smile turns sweet. “I know you’d take care of me.”

“Fucking Christ, Matty,” Adam shoves himself so deeply inside of Matt he thinks they may never disconnect. He comes harder than he possibly has in his life, falling forward and nearly collapsing on Matt. “Fuck,” he whines. “Hold on.”

He takes three deep breathes, trying to get his gravity back centered to the earth instead of to Matt. “Don’t worry, baby,” he sighs, “I’ll do anything you want. After I fuck you, if I come first what do you want me to do?”

“Oh my god,” Matt breathes. “I – put your mouth on me. L-lick me out.” He whimpers.

“Oh your knees, baby,” Adam says. Matt’s dick is heavy and red as he flips over. “I’ll clean you up so good.”

Matt’s thighs are shaking. “Please. Just – just like you will when I’m drunk.”

Adam dives in, licking up his own mess from Matt. Matt immediately yells. “Good yell?” Adam asks, freezing.

“I’m not gonna last,” Matt moans. “I’m – you’re not going to be able to – Adam, please.”

“Any time you beg,” Adam says, reaching his hand under Matt and wrapping it around Matt, “I can’t say no to you.”

Matt sobs as he comes, Adam having done almost nothing to get him there, and Adam takes pity on him. He gets up on the bed and pulls Matt against him, feeling Matt slump against him as his hips work weakly through the last spurts of come.

“I think,” Matt whimpers, “that might be – the…” He trails off and drops his head back against Adam’s chest. It’s almost enough to knock Adam over, but he forces himself to stay upright. For both of them. “I can’t wait to do that drunk.”

“Yeah?” Adam says. He presses a kiss to Matt’s temple. “You had fun?”

“Adam,” Matt says. “That was amazing.” A little floppy, he turns around to throw those eyes in Adam’s direction. “I can’t – that was so good.” He beams, like Adam’s given him the best fuck of his life. “I can’t believe I get to have you all the time.”

“How are you just now realizing this?” Adam shifts them so they can fall down on the bed together. Adam’s sure to gently shift his hips “We live together now. Of course all the time.”

Matt rolls over and pulls him in. “Yeah, but it’s real,” Matt mumbles. Adam’s sure he added something else, but it’s muffled.

“Come again?”

“Love you,” Matt says into Adam’s chest. But Adam’s pretty sure he’d said something else.

All the time, Adam realizes, may have been a bit of a misnomer. The next days are incredibly busy, with the Bucks continuing their batshit crazy tirades and Adam struggling to keep his head on straight during his path to Revolution.

It’s a Saturday afternoon, after the Bucks fined Tony on Rampage, when Adam’s sure he’s recovered from a mildly twisted ankle, that Matt comes in from the garage gym with a smile on his face.

“You look happy,” Adam says, setting his book down. “You never look happy after a leg day.”

“Can I get drunk tonight?”

Adam blinks. “Like. Drunk fucking, drunk?”

Matt nods. “I think it’s time. We’ve had a rough week, what with the fining people and everything.” He crawls onto the bed, still sweaty, and straddles Adam’s hips through the sheets.

“You’re gross,” Adam says. “Not because of the fucking thing, but because you’re covered in sweat and I just washed the duvet.”

“Not the worst thing we’ve gotten on here.” Matt winks and leans in, kissing Adam. “Your hair’s a mess.”

“So is yours!” Adam pokes him in the chest. Firm. “I could have still be napping. I can’t believe you walked in here so loud when I could have been napping.”

“You were sitting up and the light was on.” Matt swings his legs to the side and shoves his pants down his legs. Adam immediately forgets any complaint that had been on his mind. “Plus, I have a feeling you’re not complaining right now.”

Adam sighs and marks his book, putting it down to the side. “Get in the shower,” he says. He gets out of bed and throws his clothes to the ground. “Now I’m forced to blow you.”

Matt grins up at him. “I can play you like a fiddle.”

“Fuck off and let me blow you like a flute.”

“Okay!”

Matt’s looking impossibly good when they get to the bar. With both of their hair up and back, and Matt’s stupid goatee, it’s reasonable to assume that they’re close to anonymous in the dark light. It’s not Adam’s favorite place, a dive bar with low lighting and conversation the more dominant sound over the music, but instead a dance club with top forty cranking out the speakers. He used to come here a lot.

“I’m going to need a drink if I’m going to handle this much…people,” Matt says, wrinkling his nose. He’s yelling to be heard over the music. “I’ve been googling.”

“Googling what?” Adam asks. Matt grabs his hand and yanks him through the throng of people, stopping them at the bar. It’s not necessarily a gay bar, but the bartender gets one look at Matt and grins.

“What’ll you have, gorgeous?” he asks, grinning.

“An Adios Motherfucker, please.” He looks over at Adam. “And a Dos Equis, as well.”

Adam blinks. “The fuck did you just say?”

Matt’s still looking at the bartender, who nods.

“You got it.” He winks.

Adam yanks Matt back, just for a second, so his back lines up against Adam’s chest. “Quit flirting with those booboo eyes,” he murmurs into Matt’s ear.

“It’s getting me my drink sooner,” Matt says, rolling his ass back against Adam’s crotch. It isn’t not working. “Sooner I’m drunk, the sooner you get to fuck me.”

Adam sighs. “I just blew you, like, three hours ago.” He kisses the side of Matt’s head. “How are you already this horny?”

Matt swivels his hips. “Seems like I’m not the only one.” He throws a grin over his shoulder as he steps forward and leans against the bar. At least Adam gets a good look at his favorite ass in the world.

He must have been staring for a minute, because he snaps it out of it as Matt gives the beer to Adam. “Are you complaining?”

“Not even a little bit,” Adam says. He takes a sip. He wants to make this one last – he doesn’t want to miss a minute of this night. Especially if Matt goes overboard.

And Matt does. Not necessarily with the drinking, but he throws out some dance moves that would be embarrassing if he was sober. The neon blue drink is drained slowly but surely, and Matt’s done before Adam’s even gotten halfway through his own.

“I want another,” Matt says, when the drink is done. He’s grinding up against Adam to some pop song Adam doesn’t know, and he doesn’t care. All Adam can focus on is the feel of Matt against him. His beer got set down a while ago, forgotten and half-drunk in some corner.

The song ends and blends into something else high energy, and Matt turns around. His eyes are sparkling, face pink. “I,” Matt says, glowing with the alcohol flush, “think you’re really hot.”

“I know that,” Adam says, grinning. “You tell me a lot.”

“But, like,” Matt says, swaying. He flops into Adam’s chest. “It’s not fair. You got…” He grabs Adam’s shoulders. “There’s so much of you. And your arms? And these?” He pokes at Adam’s pecs. “I should fuck them again. That was fun.”

“Drunk Matt swears,” Adam chuckles. “Good to know.”

“I swear!” Matt argues. “I swear, like, all the time, with you.”

“Only when you’re real far gone,” Adam replies.

“I think I’m kind of far gone right now,” Matt says.

“Yeah?” Adam asks. He tucks a lock of hair behind Matt’s ear. “You ready to go?”

Matt’s face turns into an exaggerated version of his most thoughtful expression. “Not quite,” he decides. “I want another one. Another alcohol, I mean.”

“Another – another alcohol?” Adam asks. “You mean another drink.”

“Right!” Matt says. “Another one of those adios motherfucker things.”

“No,” Adam says firmly. “I looked up the ingredients of that thing. We’re not giving you a second of those death traps. Something lighter.”

“It actually tasted like blue,” Matt muses as they shuffle back to the bar. “I never quite understood what people meant when they said that, but it really did just taste blue.”

“Yeah, it also tastes like everybody’s worst decision they’ve ever made,” Adam mumbles. He turns to the bartender. “Jack and Coke, heavy on the Coke, please.”

Matt giggles behind him.

“What?”

“Jack and Coke, but I mixed it up in my head and said joke and cock.”

“You’re a disaster.”

Matt beams at him. “I love you, too.”

Adam watches him as he sips the drink, bopping gently to the music. “Do you want to dance some more?” he asks. “I mean, we’re at a dance bar. Might as well really get into it.”

Matt’s eyes light up. “Yes!” he says. “You never want to dance. You’re dancing so much tonight.”

“I’m never in this kinda situation.” The two of them make their way to the dance floor and Matt immediately clings to Adam, a leg between Adam’s. “Damn, you’re handsy.”

“I’m not handsy,” Matt says. “I’m legsy.” He pushes his thigh up. Adam almost chokes at the friction.

“Christ, baby, we’re in public.” He leans in and kisses Matt’s forehead. “Fuck. I love you.”

Matt beams at him, eyes growing shiny. “You really do, don’t you.” He sighs. “I can’t believe you love me.”

“You should,” Adam says, yanking Matt closer. He takes the drink from Matt’s hand. He’s had enough. “You’re, like, my favorite person.”

Matt makes a weird little hiccup. “I am?”

“Course,” Adam says. “Are you crying?”

“No,” Matt says, hardly audible over the pounding music. He rubs at his eyes. “You should take me home and have sex with – with me now.” He buries his face in Adam’s chest.

“Holy shit,” Adam says. He rubs Matt’s back, fighting a laugh. “You are crying.”

“Am not!” Matt wails. “I’m fine! I want you to do whatever – whatever you want.” He looks up. “I love you so much,” he says. “I wanna keep you. Forever.”

“Okay, we’re going home,” Adam says. “C’mon. Let me close the tab.”

“Okay,” Matt says, beaming through tears. “And then you’re gonna go bananas on me?”

“Sure, baby,” Adam says, but he’s pretty sure the night holds other plans.

Matt’s humming something under his breath as they drive home, head on Adam’s shoulder. Adam’s forced to make the small talk with the Lyft driver while Matt sings, rambling about some football game a few weeks back he can barely remember. They’re lucky the club was only a few minutes from their home – Matt very slowly crawls his hand up Adam’s thigh.

“Thanks, Alex,” he says, waving to the Lyft driver. He puts in the rating and tip as Alex drives away, feeling Matt’s hands crawl up the back of his shirt.

“Okay, what are you doing?” Adam chuckles. He turns to catch Matt’s hands before they dip down into his jeans. “You’re really handsy.”

“I’m really horny,” Matt says, throwing baby cow eyes. “You should fuck me.”

Adam sighs, pulling Matt in, hands on Matt’s hips. His shirt is so thin it barely counts as a barrier.

Matt’s humming kicks up again.

“Okay, what are you singing?”

“’Cause every time we touch I feel the static,” Matt warbles. A man of many talents, his love, but singing is not one of them. “And every time I – touch you swear I can fly.”

“Those are not the correct lyrics,” Adam says firmly.

“Don’t care,” Matt says. He’s walking all weird, like he’s trying to walk a straight line but failing. “I think I’m drunk, Adam.”

“Astute observation,” Adam says, and Matt doesn’t get a chance to retort before he falls backward. “Graceful.”

“My butt’s broken,” Matt says, draping himself over the front porch steps. “And not in the fun way.”

“Get up,” Adam laughs.

“Wait! I was singing to you,” Matt says. He clears his throat and begins belting what is someone an even worse rendition of My Heart Will Go On than anything Adam’s heard.

“Oh, my god,” Adam says, shoving Matt into the house. “We’re not that far isolated, you lunatic. My neighbors are gonna call the cops.”

Matt is too busy falling over taking off his shoes to respond. “Jesus – help?” he pleads to Adam.

“I got you,” Adam says. He kisses Matt’s forehead before lifting him in a bridal carry. “How’s this?”

“I wanted the fireman,” Matt says, pouting.”

“If I did that, you might throw up,” Adam deadpans.

“Good point.” Matt flings his arms around Adam’s neck. “Speaking of bridal carries, remind me to say something later.”

“Say what?” Adam asks. He walks them into the bedroom and rests Matt on the bed. Matt flops like Gumby.

“Keep you,” Matt says. “Got a – I am not supposed to say, it’s a surprise.” He stops talking and his eyes fill again, beaming at Adam. “You know I love you, right?”

It takes Adam a few seconds to process. “A surprise?”

“Yeah,” Matt mumbles, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. “Buttons are confusing.”

“Surprise?” Adam asks, his heart racing. “What kind of surprise?”

Matt waves him off. “I have issues even when I’m sober. I shouldn’t be allowed to use buttons.” He beams up at Adam. “I love you forever.”

Adam debates whether or not to push. The part of him that needs to know everything wants to get an answer, to know so he can do it first if Matt really is thinking of proposing. The more rational side of him is telling him to shut up and leave it alone.

“Adam,” Matt whines. “Help me get naked. My limbs aren’t working.”

“Yeah, you’re going to sleep,” Adam says. “Come here.”

“Want you to rail me.” Matt’s whining even harder now. “Please?” He tries to level Adam with boo boo eyes, but he’s hit the stage Adam is all too familiar with. His eyes are fighting to stay open. “I –” He interrupts himself with yawn. “Oh. I want to have sex. Right now.”

“You’re going to fall asleep in the next few minutes,” Adam assures him. “Stay right there. I’m going to get you some water. Some of that coconut water you like.”

“I like coconut water,” Matt says. He hasn’t moved from where he’s sprawled on the bed. “You should give me coconut water and then we get naked.”

“Sure,” Adam says. “So I can tuck you into bed.”

Matt’s harruph is adorably limp as Adam gets to the kitchen. He grabs the best options to keep Matt from a hangover in the morning, unwilling to deal with someone else’s vomit if it’s going to be as blue as Matt’s, and comes back into the bedroom.

“’m still wake,” Matt mumbles.

“Drink some water,” Adam says firmly.

Matt grins at him. “Make me.”

“Don’t threaten me with taking care of you,” Adam scoffs. He gets behind Matt and props him up. “I know you’re faking these noodle arms. Come on, take a sip.”

Matt’s sigh is dramatic as anything as he slumps against Adam’s chest and sips. “Water’s good,” he says. “Like you.”

“Thanks, babe.”

Matt finishes the glass of water and then curls up in Adam’s lap. “Okay,” he mumbles. “I think I’m tired.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Adam leans down and presses a kiss to the top of Matt’s head. “I’ll grab you some sweats.”

“Don’t need ‘em,” Matt slurs. “Bedtime.” He shucks off his jeans and chucks them in the corner, snuggling his boxered self under the covers. He looks up at Adam with sleepy eyes and a smile. “Kiss?”

“Course, baby.” It’s less than Matt had been hoping for that night, but he sighs into it anyway. “Goodnight.”

“Come to bed soon,” Matt mumbles, but he splays out and starts snoring almost before Adam can get the blanket up around his shoulders.

“That was the worst idea of my life.”

Adam yawns and turns over. “What time is it?” he mumbles. “It’s still dark out.”

“Four thirty,” Matt says, “but my head hurts and my mouth tastes horrible.” When he turns on the light, Adam has to blink a few times to really see the pinched expression. “Fix it.”

“Fix it?” Adam interrupts his laughter with a yawn. “Baby, you literally asked for this.”

“I asked you to eff me stupid while I was drunk,” Matt says, kicking at Adam’s shin under the blankets. “Not feed me radioactive slime that gives me rancid heartburn.”

“That’s on you,” Adam counters. “You insisted on the drink that would mess you up the most and the bartender listened to you.” He gently yanks some hair from over Matt’s shoulder. “Take a shower. You’ll feel better.” He nods over to the bedside table. “And take those Tums.”

“I want to sleep,” Matt whines.

“Nobody’s stopping you,” Adam says. He slides back into bed, getting comfortable. “If you’re gonna puke, make sure to drink water after. Love you.”

He hears Matt sigh. “You really do, don’t you.”

Adam grins and fumbles with the handle of his bedside drawer.

But then Matt turns out the light, and Adam decides it can wait, knowing Matt’s planning something, too.

Mini Playlist: Do Me - Kim Petras GLOW - Snow Wife TikTok - Ke$ha Why Don't We Get Drunk - Jimmy Buffett

Disclaimer from me and also the Sara from February of 2020: Don't drink an Adios Motherfucker if you want to maintain any dignity. Ever.m

#Matt Experiments #We're nearing the last few stories y'all!#wtf i like wrestling now???#in which sara writes #HangMatt #anxious millennial dreamboat #Matt Attrackson

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smaller-comfort · 2 months

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Well, it's the reason the story is rated M! I wish I could figure out how to tag this, but I'm pretty sure "sex from a non-human pov wherein everyone involved is completely alienated from their physical body in some way but they're just going to make the best of it" is over the character limit.

Technically the sex is not particularly explicit, but it kind of feels like it actually is, to me. I don't know anymore. I realize the line between an M and an E rating is often pretty blurry; the Ratings Police probably aren't going to arrest me for using the word "sphincter".

Anyway. Notes below the cut; you know the drill, I like to hear myself talk.

I really, really love some of the language in this, but I recognize that I may have gone overboard a little bit in places.

'I may have gone overboard' sums up my feelings about this one in general, actually. I'm not about to provide a fully annotated draft where I justify my word choice, phrasing, and characterization line-by-line, but I probably could. (I definitely could.) I kind of really, really love this story. A lot. I'm not gonna lie, I'm really proud of it, even if it probably could've been like...half as long. Anyway. You get a cookie if you can figure out which bits are my favorites.

I almost decided to rewrite this whole thing in past tense. I'm still not entirely sure I shouldn't have, but it would be way too much work at this point. I tend to write smut in present tense; make of that what you will.

The game itself has a fairly distinctive "voice," and I do try to mimic that at least a little. B'st in particular walks this funny line between a formal register (doesn't use many contractions, 'Great Alchemist') and goofiness (taking out the trash, his transformations). (When people tell me I hit the voices right it makes me giddy for hours.)

Still operating on the premise that Songsters are funky little guys and not humanoids. Don't ask me how they have sex, though, I really haven't gotten that far and I'm probably not going to. "Not like this," thanks B'st, that's extremely illuminating. He's never actually going to get around to drawing that diagram.

('Safe sex' for human/songster couplings typically involves earplugs. Ancient Repine sex ed would've been a trip.)

"Hey, v, anatomically speaking-" shhhhh. It's magic glass. Don't worry about it. (Is any of the sex here actually sexy? Is it supposed to be? These are questions I ask myself frequently; I have no answers. At any rate, I think I nailed the 'weirdly alienating with lots of feelings' vibe, and that's mostly what I was going for.)

I like to headcanon Songsters having extremely complicated extended familial structures. B'st and T'kor might not have had kids of their own, but they would have shared childrearing responsibilities for members of their extended family. In that respect, Mooncradle's communal society is very familiar to B'st.

I know about the T'kor=AI Core theory, and it feels like exactly the sort of thing where Thierry would go "Oh, I thought that one was way too obvious, actually." I kind of hate it, though, because it's too tragic and it makes me too sad.

Speaking of things that are too sad! I cut some extremely depressing dialogue about how the abandoned lab and the lost souls were actually left behind for Resh'an to find. Aephorul intended for them to be another "gift"- he knew about Resh'an's work on living glass, and what he needed to finish it. It wasn't a coincidence that all the materials Resh'an needed were there.

B'st was already aware of this; Resh'an figured it out on his own. At this point neither of them is going to bring it up. B'st assumes it will just make Resh'an feel pointlessly guilty all over again, and Resh'an...is already feeling extremely guilty about it! Imagine that.

Living Glass was supposed to be Resh'an's solution to their decaying bodies. But by now Resh'an doesn't actually think he has a strong enough will to live to survive the process anymore (as he's got the depression) and Aephorul was never a fan of the idea of having a non-organic body to begin with.

(Not to say that Resh'an doesn't have an unshakeable sense of purpose, but that's not quite the same thing. Living Glass vs Borrowed Time rules.)

When I first started this one, it actually was going to be set in the same timeline as Loser Takes All, because it was much funnier that way. (Resh'an is not equipped to handle getting laid this much.) My thought was to make it a series where various characters find increasingly ridiculous ways to pin Resh'an down and fuck him stupid, since that's...kind of a recurring theme with me, I guess! Yomara was going to be next on the list.

Somehow my scrap file is almost 4000 words long, but I didn't actually end up cutting very much. The ending got rewritten like six times; the majority of the first chapter was originally supposed to take place after the sex. It flows better this way, though.

I did cut one of my favorite lines, though, so here you go:

“You may feel conflicted about what I am now and how I came to be, but I do not. Have faith in that, if nothing else. In this moment, in this time, I am exactly as I am meant to be.”

I'm not saying I'm not gonna write that eventually, mind you. Welcome to the niche corner, etc. Yomara deserves something nice, and the Three Sisters have been eating the corners of my brain a bit lately.

(B'st/Romaya is probably more likely at this point, though.) (Shout out to that one Serai/Romaya fic on ao3 that rewired my brain slightly, you're a real one.)

I've got Winter and Spring now, so the next story in the series should be Summer. But I might have more than 4 stories to tell in this particular universe. So maybe I'll jump straight to Autumn and keep with a general theme of "seasons" for everything.

#nattering #my fic #sea of stars #musical theorems #b'st/resh'an #this one feels a bit like Limitless in terms of the way writing it has kicked holes in my brain #in the same vein i am very proud of this but i know it's a little more niche #i *do* wish i could figure out how to tag it though

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foxymoxynoona · 2 years

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Asunder (Chapter One)

(Gorgeous banner & linebreaks by @awrkive)

Asunder (Ongoing, Chapter 1 on Tumblr) Book 2/Prequel of The Legends of the Red-Lions Series

Avvar Warrior Taeyung x Avvar Mage OC

Technically the prequel to the Lowlander but finishes after The Lowlander. Can be read before the Lowlander if you prefer, either story will contain spoilers for the other.

Summary: Before there was the romance of a Lowlander elf and the Hold's best warrior in the shadow of a dragon, there was a much simpler story: a boy and his friends. A boy and his friends who wed each other, and loved each other, and hated each other, while he watched, and regretted, and tried not to drown in his own broken heart. A boy who wasn't just a boy at all but the son of the Thane and a mother slain and a dream that never quite fit. A boy who grew into a strong brave man who still secretly wanted the same boyish things: to love, to be loved, to be free, to be just a boy, a boy with his friends. Maybe the gods never intended for the story to be simple.

CW: domestic violence & child abuse (abusive father), graphic violence, raiding, character death, loss, depression, love triangle, emotional infidelity, divorce, explicit sex, explicit language, heartbreak, unrequited love, major pining, grievous injuries, series still in progress so I don't know everything yet, friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, fluff,

Read entire work on AO3 | Read chapter one below | Multi-story series masterlist

Taehyung’s fist connected with Do’s nose. He dropped instantly to his knees as a fountain of blood gushed forth. For a moment Taehyung froze, wide-eyed at the damage he’d managed to do sort of by chance. But when Do bolted up, face a mask of rage, Taehyung realized he couldn’t quit in the middle of a fight just because he was shocked by the blood. Not that he was any great fighter at seven years old, and it wasn’t his first fight, just the first one he’d managed to draw blood in. He’d gotten lucky with that punch, just like Do got lucky with the next one and managed to knock the wind out of him with a fist in his stomach.

The other boy, Jungkook ar Mara, jumped onto Do’s back and began pounding on his head. He was small, so it looked more annoying than painful, but it gave Taehyung a moment to catch his breath and then rush forward, shoulder wedging into Do’s back to knock him against a log bench near the edge of the clearing.

Taehyung thought for sure Jungkook was going to be crushed, but he leapt off the bigger boy like a rabbit at the very last second. Do went down hard and lay still, the last opponent.

Jungkook stayed by Taehyung’s side but the wall of children who’d simply watched kept their distance, as if unsure that the show was actually over and not wanting to accidentally become involved by moving too soon. No one else had thrown in to help Jungkook when the bigger boys started to shove him around anyway so Taehyung wasn’t surprised, nor by the fear on their faces as they regarded him now. If there had ever been a time the other children were nice to him, he didn’t remember it, and his father becoming Thane last year in a bloody turnover had earned him fear but no friendships.

Jungkook elbowed him as he wiped the blood and drool and snot and tears from his face and asked, “Did you kill him?”

“I fucking hope not,” Taehyung said. Ama told him not to use that word like Apa did, but it felt right in this moment as together they looked down at Do’s hulking, unmoving form. There were a lot of rocks on the other sides of those logs. He might have just killed Do. He wasn’t sure whether Apa would be proud of him for having his first kill at seven or not, but he knew for sure he’d leave out the part where he pissed himself and vomited on his shirt –which was definitely what was about to happen if he’d actually just killed Do.

“I wasn’t trying to kill him,” Taehyung said, so quietly only Jungkook could hear. “I just wanted to help you…”

He turned to look for an adult when suddenly someone crashed into his shoulder, leapt over the log, and settled down beside the bully. Taehyung used the moment to hide the way he swiped at his eyes; no matter what, Apa would be furious if he cried again. He cried too much, Apa told him that all the time, and death was definitely not something to cry over because either it was honorable or embarrassing.

It was one of the older girls who’d crouched beside Do and then said matter of factly, “He’s not dead but you did knock him out cold. Someone should send for a healer…” Taehyung just stared at her and she seemed to think he wasn’t going to do it, so she pointed at someone else. “Hoseok, will you run?” The boy gave her a scared look but took off at her command. Everyone seemed to just accept that there were no adults so suddenly this girl was in charge.

Now she stood stepped over the log to them, demanding, “Well? Does it feel good that you hurt him?”

“Yes,” Taehyung confirmed. “I guess I didn’t want to kill him but he can’t just pick on people smaller than him.” The girl looked at him like he’d grown a second head, so he added, “He’s a piece of shit.”

“Why do you talk like that? It’s not impressive. You’re six.”

“I’m seven,” Taehyung corrected and glared because apparently she didn’t know who he was. “I’m Thane Greybeard’s firstborn son!”

“Oh.” She looked like she was trying to be impressed because it was the right thing to do but couldn’t quite pull it off.

Jungkook ar Mara lifted his hand and admitted, “I’m six.”

“You’re bleeding,” the girl frowned. Taehyung looked at Jungkook’s bloody nose and bloody lip and ruffled hair and the gash beneath his eye. It wasn’t the first time Do and Bjorn and their friends picked on Jungkook ar Mara, but something had made them extra violent today. The teachers tended to look the other way because maybe they were only children now but someday they would be adults and they needed to learn to be strong and settle their own affairs as soon as possible. There wasn’t time to be weak and useless, even if you were small.

Taehyung had watched Jungkook endure the bullying with an impressive stoicism and been confused because it was honorable to endure like he did but it was also weak to be bullied. He’d often seen Jungkook’s older sister Mina ar Mara comforting him before they walked home together after classes. Everyone liked Mina ar Mara but when she had tried to chase the boys off they thought it was even funnier that Jungkook’s big sister was trying to protect him. Once they’d turned their teasing on her, and Jungkook had launched himself at them and managed to get a few kicks in, but he was little and couldn’t do much and that also seemed to make it worse. Taehyung kind of envied them that though –having a brother or sister who would try to protect you like that. He had no one.

Maybe that was what had made him snap today when Do and Breck and Niilo had set in on Jungkook. Mina wasn’t at lessons today. Breck ran off quick when Taehyung kicked him in the stomach, and Niilo only fought back until he realized who Taehyung was, but Do hadn’t cared.

And now Do was passed out in the mud like a drunk pig.

The girl reached for Jungkook, pulling a square cloth from her pocket to press against his eyes. Taehyung frowned because it didn’t seem fair that he was the one who’d jumped into a fight to protect someone he barely even knew but Jungkook was the one getting babied.

“I am too,” Taeyung pointed out, pointing to the blood on his lip. He’d knocked a tooth out when Do punched him but the truth was it was about to fall out anyway. He wasn’t sure what had happened to his cheek but thought Do might have scratched him with his disgusting badger nails.

“I thought you were seven,” the girl said. “Aren’t you Thane Greybeard’s firstborn son?”

“I’m not a baby either,” Jungkook said, suddenly pushing her hands away. He pulled the cloth away and handed it back to her and she looked crestfallen. “We don’t need your help.”

Megeera, one of the village healers, came running into the lesson house yard with the boy called Hoseok, her voice high as she demanded, “What’s going on here? Lessons are done for the day, go home!”

“Fighting!”

“They were fighting!”

“Do’s out, Taehyung killed him.”

“I didn’t kill him,” Taehyung shouted. He spun, glaring, ready to challenge anyone who said it to his face. He decided it was a bad idea to have his first kill at seven because everyone looked horrified instead of impressed so they better not say that about him. The wall of unfriendly stares brought him up short. Ama insisted that over time, the other children would fear him less and he would make friends, but it had been a year now. He didn’t remember ever having a friend in his whole life. He rarely bothered to even learn anyone’s name.

He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t cry in front of everyone who misunderstood him or hated him and he hadn’t even done anything except help someone who was getting hurt. He turned his back to them, trying to fling the tears from his eyes before they could slide down his cheek.

But the girl saw. He knew she saw, because she gave him the same look he’d seen Mina give Jungkook, like he was a cute little baby who’d been hurt and she was worried.

“You’re hurt too,” she said, and produced another cloth from her skirt pocket.

When she pressed it to Taehyung’s cheek though, a blue light sparked. They both yelped and she dropped the cloth. Just as quickly, she pressed her hand to his cheek again, her eyes going wide as the blue light resumed.

“Karmen!” the boy Hoseok yelled. “You have magic!”

“What? Back away!” Megeera shouted, rising quickly from where she’d been trying to wake Do.

The fear on Karmen’s face was instant and obvious. Every child was warned about the dangerous first signs of magic. Usually something crazy happened, like you accidentally blew up a hut or melted your bed or froze the lake around you and were stuck in the ice until a trained mage could come melt you out. Taehyung had heard about a boy who was plucking a chicken, then suddenly poof! No more chicken. Just feathers and guts everywhere. He’d cried for two days, worried he’d blow up Ama the same way, even though she had pointed out no one in their family had ever shown magic. No mixed blood in his family, just Avvar since the beginning.

Maybe because she’d just seen him wipe those traitorous tears away, and now he’d seen her very first magic, or maybe because he was impressed she was the only other child to jump forward and help, or maybe because she’d looked at him the way Mina looked at Jungkook and no one ever looked at Taehyung that way except Ama and he was just lonely … Whatever the reason, Taehyung grabbed her hand and pressed it to the gash on his cheek that was really starting to hurt as he caught his breath from the fight. It was right above his lip.

“Don’t blow me up.”

“I don’t know anything about…” the girl began but trailed off as her hand glowed blue. It was a beautiful blue light, mesmerizing, and so bright it hurt to look at. Taehyung closed his eyes and tried not to complain at the way it burned against his skin. He just stayed very still, like he was very good at doing.

Suddenly her hand was wrenched away, and Megeera shouted, “What by the Lady do you think you’re doing? You have only seen the first glimpse of magic just this moment and you have your hand to a boy’s face? And not just any boy but the son of our Thane! Are you out of your mind, Karmen ar Hilde?! You are wiser than this!”

Karmen ar Hilde dropped her gaze and fidgeted beside Taehyung. On his other side, Jungkook ar Mara craned his neck, eyes so wide and mouth turned down in a pout so that he kind of looked like a craggie. Taehyung thought Megeera was scolding all of them but he honestly wasn’t listening to any of it. It didn’t bother him for anyone to yell because his apa was the Thane and no one in the Hold was as scary as his Apa.

“I’m sorry,” Karmen mumbled to him. He saw with shock that she’d begun to cry. He had no idea why.

“We must go home and talk to your parents right away about this–”

“It worked,” Jungkook said. His eyes were even wider. He looked at Megeera like he expected her to yell, but then pointed at Taehyung’s face, “You made her cry but she fixed his face and he didn’t get melted or anything.”

Taehyung touched his cheek where, sure enough, he could feel a slight dip beneath the dried blood but it wasn’t a hole in his skin anymore. It didn’t hurt anymore, it didn’t even burn from her magic anymore.

Megeera didn’t know what to say about that. For just a moment, she was without words. It was neat to see that on her face, that confusion because she had insisted something was going to happen and Karmen had proved her wrong and Jungkook had pointed it out and Taehyung had been the start of it because he’d taken the chance and let Karmen try. She had brand new magic and he’d been healed by it! A blessing from the gods, that’s what Ama was going to say about this.

Just as quickly Megeera was back in motion. Do was sitting up now, back to shouting murderous things at Jungkook and Taehyung. Megeera was torn between hauling him off and dragging Karmen to tell her parents she had magic now. More adults were arriving and Taehyung decided it was time to pull a disappearing act.

So he grabbed Jungkook’s arm and tried to flee, but Jungkook stayed where he was, and gave him a confused look.

“We should get out of here,” Taehyung pointed out.

“But… we can’t just leave her,” Jungkook said, pointing to Karmen. “She’s upset.”

“We can’t fix that. She has to talk to her parents now and learn to do her magic.”

“Oh… but I can’t leave yet.”

“Why not?” Taehyung frowned.

Jungkook didn’t have an answer for that, just seemed to believe he needed to remain while there was anything going on. Taehyung didn’t know how to fix that either but he sure wasn’t going to stick around and get in more trouble. Besides, he’d almost killed someone today, and he felt like he needed to go home and be alone for a while.

But it had kind of been nice, for just a moment, to not be standing alone when he got yelled at.

Taehyung cut through the water like a brown trout, swimming a wide circle around Ama. He held his breath as long as he could before erupting through the surface. She laughed as water droplets flew through the air, then reached out her arm for Taehyung to hold onto so he could stay still for a moment. He was so good at moving in the water, Ama said he was the best swimmer she’d ever seen and joked that her great-grandfather had been a fish and Taehyung took after her. But he wasn’t good yet at treading water, and it was kind of scary in this deeper part of the sea where he would sink like a rock if not for her hand. That had happened to him before and he still had bad dreams about it.

He had lots of bad dreams actually. He’d had another one last night, so Ama had brought him to the sea to swim early this morning so he could wash away the sweat and bad feelings. Taehyung wished his dreams were of things to come; Apa’s mother had been a dreamer and even though she died before he was born, Taehyung thought she sounded amazing through the stories Apa told.

Taehyung’s dreams were always of things that had already happened though. Last night he’d dreamed of the day Apa became Thane again. He’d only been five and it had been a scary and confusing day so his dreams were equally as disjointed and confused, but a few things stood out clear: the bellowing shouts that seemed to shake the wooden benches; blood so strong in the air Taehyung could taste it in his mouth; the image of his big strong father rising victorious from the haze of the arena, black with blood, holding someone’s arm. Apa had not looked like Apa in that moment and Taehyung was convinced for days that Apa had died and a demon had taken his place. Ama insisted that wasn’t true, but Taehyung still dreamed it as truth.

His mouth tasted like blood now, so he gulped a mouthful of water and sent it like a fountain through the air.

“Little fish,” Ama grinned, reaching out to brush the hair back from his face. “You need to learn to stay still in the water. Paddle your arms and feet like I taught you.”

Taehyung had been about to insist he was a big fish, not a little fish, but the reminder he couldn’t tread water humbled him. He tried to do what she said, to prove he could, but as his head kept almost slipping under the water, he found himself panicking and paddling more frantically, which didn’t work. Just when his heart felt like it was going to rip from his chest, Ama caught his arm and dragged him close.

“It just takes practice,” she told him with a warm smile.

“I’ll practice all the time!”

“With me,” she quickly added. “It’s not worth drowning over to prove a point. You can come with me.”

“But you’re so busy,” he sighed. His Ama was the best weaver in the whole Hold and had been working very hard on new tapestries for the main hall because Apa didn’t like the old ones. Sometimes Taehyung ran around the main hall while she worked but it wasn’t the same as being home with her and there were too many people and everyone looked at him like he was a feral cat, so he spent most of his time out running around on his own. There was so much to see in the Hold, and he was sneaky and quick. No one ever thought to look for him up on the roof when they realized someone had tied a scarf on their dog or let the chickens out for a stroll or taken a handful of sugar drops! And even if they did happen to see him before he got away, what were they going to do about it, complain to his Apa? One person had tried that and Apa had laughed in their face and scooped Taehyung up to his shoulder and praised him for being so clever and quick. “He’ll make a fine raider if he’s that quick!” Apa had boomed and Taehyung had vibrated with joy at the praise.

Now he went back to swimming circles around Ama, who left bubbles at the surface when she washed the soap out of her long hair. Taehyung surfaced through them and gave himself a bubble beard and eyebrows to make her laugh. He always knew just how to make her laugh.

Even though Taehyung had been born in Red-Lion hold, Apa had insisted Taehyung mostly stay home with Ama in their old hut just outside of the Hold walls for his early years, down on the wetlands. He had rarely gone into the Hold proper –Apa had said it was to keep him safe, and anyway, it suited Taehyung fine, because he got to play with Ama all day and learn from her and watch all the beasts of the wetlands from his window and not be bothered by the other children his age. They seemed annoying back then.

He had seen one group of children often though, the same ones he saw walking the same old path now. Jungkook and Mina walked with their parents, all carrying baskets from the wetlands towards the docks. Mina sort of skipped around but Jungkook walked very still with a basket on his back. There was a little brother with them too, toddling next to his mother’s skirt, and the mother’s belly was big.

“Mara must be getting close to having her new baby,” Ama mused, moving Taehyung to her other arm as they watched. “Looks like they were out crabbing this morning. That will make a delicious dinner for us, won’t it?” She smiled and Taehyung nodded and licked his lips; crab was one of his favorite foods. Ama didn’t do the cooking anymore, they just ate in the main hall everyday where other women cooked for them.

“Ama are you going to have a baby too?”

“What, you think my belly is that big?” Ama laughed and threw him away from her into the water. He paddled back to her, also giggling.

“No! But it’s only me! Are you supposed to have more babies?”

“No, I won’t have more babies,” Ama said. “The gods decided one for me and gave me the most perfect son I could have dreamed of.”

“Did you dream about me, Ama?”

“Oh yes, every day since I was a little girl,” she smiled.

Taehyung clung to her shoulder, practicing pedaling his feet beneath the water, and demanded, “Tell me! Tell me!”

So they floated and slid through the water together, and Ama told him about her dream:

“I dreamed I crawled for days through the mountains, searching desperately for a mountain stream to quench my thirst but everywhere, I found nothing. The skies were bright and blue but the gods offered me no rain. I pleaded with Korth Mountain-Father to give me just one dewy leaf; I begged the Lady of the Skies for a single drop of rain. It wouldn’t be enough to quench my thirst but at least I could die with moisture on my tongue. Maybe it would be enough for me to rise, so I could die on my feet like a good Avvar woman.

“I found a streambed but it was empty. I found a pool but it had dried. I found salt on a stony cliff where some old water must have flowed but there was nothing. I licked the wall, desperate, but there was nothing, and I began to cry but I had not even water in my body for tears. I was dry as the stones around me. I cupped my hands, praying for even tears that I could drink, but there was nothing.

Until plop !”

She lifted her hand and let a trail of water fall on Taehyung’s wet hair. He giggled and flapped his arms so as not to go under and for a moment he managed it, but then grabbed onto her arm again.

“Into my cupped hands dropped a little tadpole, straight from the sky. There were no clouds, no water, nothing, this tadpole couldn’t be anything else except a gift from the Lady. I tossed it into my mouth–”

“No, Ama! Don’t eat me!” Taehyung cried, bought into the story he’d heard so many times.

“But as soon as I felt that little tadpole wiggle in my cheek, I let it slip right out of my mouth and back into my hands. I knew I would rather die thirsty than take the life of that little tadpole. The next thing I knew, the tadpole grew bigger and bigger and transformed into a little boy.”

“You had to drop me then.”

“Yah, you were too big to hold in my hands like that,” Ama agreed. “And as you grew, rain began to fall, even though there were still no clouds. It was a beautiful, sunny day, but the gods sent rain to wash me and quench my thirst and restore all the rivers and ponds and streams. I understood the tadpole had been a gift I almost misunderstood and that now I would never be thirsty again.”

“But you do get thirsty, Ama,” Taehyung pointed out. “You like mountain tea.”

Ama smiled and wrapped her arms around him.

He laughed and poked her chest, “Your boobs are in the way.”

“Of what?” she demanded.

“If you don’t have more babies you don’t need them anymore.”

“Well Tae-ya, my body can still exist even when no one needs anything from it,” she told him. “I like my breasts. Our bodies have different needs and uses throughout our lives, just like right now you don’t need that little eel between your legs but someday it may be useful.”

“I like my eel!” Taehyung pouted at her, then kicked off and went splashing through the water again. He did a circle in the water and when he came up for air, realized the ar Maras were out of view, taking the path through the Hold now to double back to the docks where they would put their crabs out in their stall.

He paddled back to Ama, but she looked thoughtful now so he didn’t say anything. Sometimes he was thoughtful too and she would sit there patiently and wait, or maybe she’d say, “You look like you’re thinking big thoughts, Tae-ya, what do you see?”

Finally she smiled at him, “The dream was right. How could I ever be thirsty again with such a healthy, thoughtful, clever son as you?”

“I’m big and strong too!” Taehyung bragged because Ama always seemed to leave those things out but they were the most important of all! “I’m going to be big and brave and fierce like Apa.”

“You will be perfect whoever you are,” Ama said to him. “But I think you are right, you will be tall. You’re already so tall compared to the boys your age!”

“I’m big and strong too. I helped Jungkook ar Mara at lessons.”

“You did? Doing what?”

So Taehyung told her about the bullying and the fighting and even about the girl Karmen suddenly discovering her magical skill. He really tried to embellish the story and make it interesting because he could see by Ama’s face that she was surprised by all of it.

“I knew about Karmen ar Hilde discovering her magic,” Ama admitted, “But I didn’t realize you let her learn on you! That’s very dangerous, Tae-ya!”

“I’m brave,” Taehyung beamed.

“There’s a difference between brave and reckless, my son, and you must learn the difference. It’s very important!”

Taehyung didn’t like that Ama didn’t sound so impressed, and now he frowned at her, “Apa told me to fight bullies and I did.”

“Yes, it was kind of you to help Jungkook ar Mara.” She glanced over and they saw the family opening up their stall and dumping the crabs into place. “It’s good for you to make friends, Taehyung–”

“They aren’t my friends,” he quickly corrected. Apa wouldn’t like that. “I just helped him. I’m the Thane’s son and I’m strong and brave and I wanted to show how fierce I am.”

“You are those things, but even a strong and brave Thane’s son can be happier with friends.”

Taehyung’s face screwed up further, reminding her, “Apa says friends are just people you let close enough to stab you.”

“Yes, and trust that they will not.”

“But… they will.”

“Not always.”

“But you don’t know until they stab you!” Taehyung pointed out. He was getting tired now and wanted to swim back to shore, so he started and was gratified when Ama followed, walking slowly since her feet could touch the ground.

“You sound like your apa,” she said once they’d reached the shore. She wrapped him up in a blanket to dry him off before wrapping it around her own body because he could get his own clothes on without help. “Your apa is wise about many things but when it comes to people… his way is not the only way. I would not have made it this far in life without the help and comfort of friends. It was hard we kept you from children your own age for so long… it’s only natural for you to find others to get along with and play with.”

Taehyung thought about this. It wasn’t right for her to say that about Apa because he was the Thane as chosen by the gods, so obviously his way was the best way and she shouldn’t question him. Apa would be mad if he knew she did, but Taehyung wouldn’t tell.

“Who are your friends, Ama?” he asked slowly because he didn’t really know.

“I don’t have many friends here. Most are back in the Hold I grew up in. But I am working on making new friends here and you can too.”

“Ok but I need big strong friends. I need friends who will help me in battle someday!”

Ama shrugged her shoulders, “There are many kinds of battles in life, Tae-ya, not just ones with axes. A good friend is someone who can watch your back and you watch theirs, and who is willing to be there with you even when the winds aren’t blowing in your favor that day. You don’t have to be big and strong to do those things.”

“But Jungkook ar Mara is too small to be my friend. And he has big eyes like a craggie. It makes him look like a baby monkey!”

Ama suddenly grabbed something from the beach and held it out to him, saying, “Look at this. Do you know what this is?”

“It’s a… seed.”

“It’s a small seed, yes. But if we plant it, it could grow into one of those tall trees there. That tall tree will live longer than us, or could give wood to our Hold for houses or cooking or weapons, or give branches and shade for animals to make their homes. No one but the gods can look at this small seed and know what the future will be like for it.”

“Apa can.”

“No one can, Tae-ya,” she said. “Unless the gods whisper in their ear or their dreams or their heart. So when your heart tells you that you’ve found a friend, listen to the gods.”

“The gods don’t talk to your heart,” Taehyung said, face scrunching up. He began to laugh, “Apa doesn’t listen to his heart !”

Ama gave him a look that he wouldn’t understand for many more years and asked, “You want to be just like your Apa, don’t you, Tae-ya?”

“Yeah!” he said. Of course he did! Apa was the Thane! The gods had said Apa was the best man in the world! He wanted to make his Apa proud and follow right in his footsteps, even if that seemed like a lot of work right now because he didn’t really do the things Apa said very well…

“Let me tell you something the gods have whispered into my heart,” Ama said, beckoning him closer. “You are my child as much as you are your apa’s, and you will be better than both of us combined someday. That is the tree you will be.” She glanced at the docks, at all the fisher families now setting up for business. “And I think you should make friends with Jungkook ar Mara.”

“Why?” Taehyung asked, not understanding anything. He wasn’t actually going to be a tree. People weren’t trees.

“Because your heart sent you to his side even when he could do nothing for you,” she pointed out. “Give it a thought, my son. Don’t blindly follow the path of your father if the gods whisper something else to you. Apa is not a god.”

“He’s chosen by the gods,” Taehyung pointed out. “So… it’s kind of the same thing.”

“No, Tae-ya. It isn’t the same thing. It’s very important you never forget that… Now come, let’s go break our fast with Apa before you have to go to school.” The sudden shift in her demeanor was familiar and didn’t bother Taehyung at all. He was the same way. Sometimes they could talk to each other so seriously like that and then the time was done and onto other things. He thought it was a little strange she wanted him to befriend Jungkook ar Mara and he also didn’t think it was very good, the things she was saying about Apa. Apa was the Thane, chosen by the gods, and he had a legend name and would probably ascend to the heavens as a legend when he died someday. So he basically was a god and he’d be mad if Ama said something else.

But he loved his parents and he didn’t want to cause problems between them, so he would just keep those things secret in his heart, even if he didn’t think he should keep secrets from Apa either. But sometimes Apa was pretty mean to Ama if she did something he didn’t like, and Taehyung didn’t like seeing his mother hurting just because she said odd things sometimes, so he thought that was the right thing to do. Maybe the gods told him that in his heart.

He’d think about what she said about Jungkook ar Mara, but he really just didn’t think he had any use for a friend, especially a little tadpole who hadn’t grown into a real boy yet.

Taehyung was bored. Why did feasts to honor the gods have to be so long and boring? He actually wished Apa had let him be one of the children running around with the serving bowls this time because it kind of looked like fun. You could sneak the foods you weren’t supposed to eat yet, or pretend to forget the adults who were mean to you. Sometimes drunk adults threw things at you or yelled but they couldn’t do that to Taehyung because his apa was the Thane. And you could hide back in the kitchens during all the long boring chants. Augur Cass took forever in her chants and her voice always tried to put Taehyung to sleep. It wasn’t his fault! But gods save him if he actually fell asleep on the dais, Apa would skin him alive, he knew that.

So he pinched his thighs to stay awake and stared straight ahead like Apa wanted him to do. Even though his feet hurt , they were itching so bad to run around. He wouldn’t get to stay for the dancing either and he would have to sleep at his grandfather’s house because Apa and Ama would stay for the dancing and then be too noisy when they got home. He didn’t like being home when Ama and Apa were noisy. Did they like doing that? It didn’t sound like fun to him.

At least he liked sitting up here sometimes though because he knew as Apa’s son, people looked at him with admiration and respect because he’d be just like his apa someday. He didn’t get to automatically be Thane just because of that, he would still have to prove himself through Trials, but it happened a lot that gods favored the son of a Thane in those trials. The previous Thane had two sons but it turned out the gods favored Apa more and he killed both of them during the Trials, but that wouldn’t happen to Taehyung. He was from stronger blood. Apa had explained it to him when he’d begun his training, when he and Apa had finally convinced Ama not to fight it anymore. He’d been training now since he was five and that was why he had even been able to help Jungkook ar Mara that day because no one realized Taehyung was already a good fighter! They had underestimated him. Maybe people looking at him sitting next to Apa on the dais underestimated him now too just because he was seven but like Ama said, they were thinking something small would grow from the seed that was Taehyung. It wasn’t true. The gods had big plans for Taehyung. He’d train even harder!

That was the real reason his feet probably hurt. His shoulders ache. His elbows ached. He had been training by himself because they didn’t usually let boys start to learn weaponry until eight but Apa wanted him to start early and once he was Thane, who could say no? His teacher was extra hard on him this week, Taehyung thought. Not as hard as Apa would be but he was tired, that was true. It was hard work growing up strong like Apa. Very hard work.

Taehyung watched the serving children emerge as soon as the prayer ended with the next round of drinks for the people important enough not to have to fetch their own. Jungkook ar Mara scurried forward and thrust a mug into Apa’s hand. Since he never did that work, Taehyung had no idea why Jungokok ar Mara was the child serving the Thane. He assumed it was a coveted space and certainly Jungkook ar Mara couldn’t have fought the other boys for it. Jungkook raced around like a little mouse, face set in a stern glare until something caught his attention and then his eyes went so big. Craggie.

The children all disappeared again and Taehyung felt an annoying desire to follow them. It was all adults around him now. He felt so separate from the children who weren’t serving tonight, seated in the regular benches or on the ground with their parents. He was important, on the dais with his important father. But being important was kind of lonely…

In a moment of impulse, Taehyung slid backwards off his stool and disappeared behind the dais. He held his breath for a moment but no one leaned back to look at him. A new prayer was starting so maybe no one had even noticed yet. He decided not to waste time and instead crept quickly around the dais and darted behind the nearest rock and then just ran the rest of the way around the outside of the clearing and hoped the shadows obscured him.

He found the other children back by the path down to the kitchens beneath the main hall, which spanned the width of the entire main hall and also into the cave beneath where they stood now. The delicious scents of food were stronger back here, but so too was the stench of blood and raw meat and death. It reminded him of that day and disoriented him for a moment, like he was in the stands again watching his father the lion devour everything around him. He froze in the middle of the path, hearing the thump of severed arms and legs hitting the wood platforms and falling to the ground–

No. Different whumps. The sound of small fists connecting with a smaller body.

Taehyung already saw red, so it was frightening how easily that red transitioned to his bellow, “I told you to leave him alone!”

Jungkook ar Mara had a big stick he was swinging around, but it was too big to be of any actual use. The older boys ducked easily under it, making a game of punching him in his weak spots.

Taehyung ducked under the stick too but thrust it at one of the boys; he was just as tall as the older boy and managed to body him almost to the edge of the deck. In all honesty, he would have pushed him right over the edge if another boy hadn’t hit his back, distracting him. He turned just as Jungkook jumped onto the boy’s back with a rock in his hand, but he dropped it before he actually hit the boy with it. There were two more, so no time to really worry about whether Jungkook ar Mara brained one of them. Taehyung leapt around them and punched one bloody before elbowing the second in the throat.

When he turned around, Jungkook had the rock again, dark blood and tears streaming down his face as he squared off with the remaining boy. Several other children stood just around the fringes. It was eerie, with the pitched prayer echoing around the clearing in the background, and the low flickering light from the pathway torches and kitchen lights and a bright moon. The children were all being terrifyingly quiet in this brawl so as not to attract adults. Taehyung looked up at it and realized it meant the Lady was watching them, maybe Korth Mountainfather too. Would his own father be proud or disappointed if Taehyung helped Jungkook ar Mara kill a boy as a final warning?

No. He got that sick to his stomach feeling again. He couldn’t do that, and clearly Jungkook ar Mara couldn’t either because he was trembling and crying now and let the rock fall from his hand a second time.

With a grunt, Taehyung raced forward and grappled with the other boy. He put up more of a fight than the other three had, and for a very long couple of minutes he and Taehyung rolled around in the dirt, striking with elbows, knees, and fists, grabbing clothing and hair to tug.

Then Jungkook ar Mara yanked the boys’ boots off and threw them off the cliff –an odd gesture, but the boy let out a squawk and freed himself from Taehyung to run down the side path after them. The other three boys groaned and rose, probably to continue the fight because there would be too much shame in being beaten by a younger boy.

These weren’t even the same children as last time, Taehyung realized. No Do or Breck or Niilo, though Bjorn was the one currently chasing down his boots.

“How do you have so many enemies?!” he demanded of Jungkook ar Mara. “You’re six!”

Jungkook ar Mara wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand, his big dark eyes watery enough to catch the reflection of the moonlight like a helpless little doe.

Taehyung turned to the other boys, “I’m Taehyung ar Yeorum, son of Thane Greybeard. If you fight with Jungkook ar Mara, you fight with me. Hakkon Wintersbreath thinks you’re ugly nug-humpers for fighting with someone smaller than you so fight me instead unless you piss your pants when you lose!”

For all his grand-standing though, maybe it was more impressive when a girl’s voice said, “Yes, who’s impressed by picking on a boy smaller than you? I’m embarrassed for your parents. Do they know what a loser you are? Scram!”

Maybe the boys still wouldn’t have gone, but a nearby crackle of electricity changed their mind. Without even seeing who it came from, the boys scurried away in shame and defeat just as another girl flew down the path: Mina ar Mara.

She caught Jungkook ar Mara up in a hug that he tried to squirm away from as she demanded, “Who was it this time? Who did this?”

“They ran off,” the first girl’s voice said –Karmen, he realized. Mina’s glare turned to him, standing to the side, bloodied and dirty, but before he could say anything, Karmen said, “He was fighting on your brother’s side again.”

“I don’t need help,” Jungkook insisted, squirming out of his sister’s hold. “I have to get back to work!”

“You’re injured.”

“I’m strong!”

The boy who had cast the electricity, whose name Taehyung didn’t know, sighed, “Next time just get me and I’ll chase them off.”

Karmen glared at him, “More like you’ll blow them up. You know we aren’t supposed to use our magic until we’ve passed our trial.”

“You’ve had magic for a week and you’re already bossy about it.”

“Stuff it, Yoongi,” Karmen retorted, crossing her arms.

“I’m your elder, speak to me with respect.”

“You’re a year older, so act like it!”

Taehyung backed away slowly as Jungook ar Mara ran past him to grab something from the kitchen. He’d jumped into the fight without thinking, but with more children involved now, he didn’t want to be here anymore. He wasn’t here to get tangled up in all of this.

“We should tell the adults–” Mina started.

“Tell them what?” Yoongi asked. “They don’t care about fighting. You aren’t helping him either when you treat him like a baby in front of everyone.” Mina looked deeply hurt by this but Taehyung thought Yoongi was right. Other children weren’t going to be nice to you just because your older sister was worried. Crying when they hit you wasn’t going to make them stop. Taehyung might not know very much about other people, but Apa had taught him the most important thing: the strongest wins. Jungkook ar Mara was not the strongest, and Taehyung realized he was really stepping into it if he was going to keep getting involved, and then this growing flock of noisy children was going to keep circle around him like this. He did not want to be involved.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Karmen demanded, turning to him and crossing her arms. She looked very angry in the blue light from the magic torches.

“I’m the Thane’s son. I have to go back to my seat.”

“Are you hurt? Do you need any healing?”

He was hurt, but the last thing he wanted right now was a brand new mage child trying to heal his cuts or bruises with unsteady magic. He’d already proven he wasn’t afraid, so now he didn’t have to prove it again. Anyway, Apa would want to know why he was beat up and would probably be proud about Taehyung beating a bunch of older boys even if these ones weren’t very much older. Ama wouldn’t be but women didn’t know about those kinds of things. He could see that was true about Mina ar Mara and Karmen ar Hilde too.

“Thank you for helping him,” Mina ar Mara said, with a voice and big eyes that proved he was right about her not understanding fighting. She looked at him like he’d done Jungkook ar Mara some big favor. He’d just joined a fight. It just annoyed him for boys to push around a younger boy. The gods wouldn’t honor something like that, but they would honor him helping someone smaller. Besides, it felt a little good to get to kick and punch someone. That was what Apa talked about, right? The bloodrush of justice!

“I don’t care,” he said and turned away, embarrassed by all their eyes on him. He didn’t know these people and he didn’t want to know them. He made quick steps back towards the dais from the back. Jungkook ar Mara bumped into him along the way, carefully balancing a tray. He looked like shit, even though his wet face seemed to have been washed off. It just made him look like he had cried more.

“Thank you for fighting on my side,” he said, practically sniffling. Taehyung was tired of being thanked.

“I won’t help you again,” he said, glaring. “You need to learn to fight for yourself. You have to get bigger and stronger.”

“I’m growing as fast as I can…”

“Pray to the gods harder or those other boys are going to kill you and it won’t be my problem,” Taehyung snapped at him. Jungkook’s eyes went wide and Taehyung decided it was no use, Jungkook ar Mara was always going to look like a baby with that face. His father was tall but probably he would be shorter like his mother. He looked more like his mother. How embarrassing for a boy. Taehyung was proud to look like both his parents.

“I won’t help you next time,” Taehyung said again, and gave Jungkook’s shoulder a rough shove that made him spill one of the bowls. Jungkook gasped but Taehyung just leapt up the back of the dais and settled back on his stool.

Ama gave him a wild look, clearly confused and worried about why he’d disappeared and why he looked all beat up. He smiled at her to reassure her: I won, Ama, don’t worry. Unfortunately his father didn’t notice at all, just grabbed a mug of beer from the platter Jungkook held up to him, face stoic and stern again. He looked like a grumpy baby. Taehyung was glad he wasn’t like him, a serving child at a feast like this, or small, or getting beat up by the other boys, or sharing his small home with so many siblings, or being the son of a simple fisherman. He knew how to fight! Jungkook ar Mara would never learn to fight or defend himself and he’d just keep getting beat up about it until the other boys probably killed him. The gods favored strength.

From the dais, he saw Mina ar Mara and Karmen ar Hilde whispering to each other as they returned to their seats. The other boys, Yoongi and Hoseok, were right behind them. Were they all friends? They were all around the same age, and three of them were young mages, but he didn’t think they spent much time with Mina and Jungkook ar Mara –not that he paid much attention or knew anything about how people became friends or acted like friends. He tried to forget everyone’s names because he didn’t care.

Taehyung held the ax in both of his hands, even though Apa was annoyed about it because it was supposed to be a single-handed weapon. Every bone in his bottle rattled with each ‘tap’ from Apa’s ax.

“Sparks!” Apa shouted. “I want to see sparks! Meet my force!”

Taehyung did his best to hold his ground but Apa was the strongest man in the world and even his light taps were enough to send Taehyung flying. Even if he tried to swing and meet Apa’s hits, the impact felt like it would explode his bones. He knew Apa was barely using any of his strength but Taehyung didn’t feel like he was managing to show off any of the things his weapons trainer had taught him. He still flinched when Apa took a step towards him. He still got the wind knocked out of him when Apa would send him flying. He was still too slow getting up so that Apa could hit him on the back and knock him down again. He threw up at one point, unable to keep his stomach from emptying after a hard blow, and Apa’s disgusted frown shattered his heart.

A warrior can’t have a soft heart he chanted to himself and pushed to his feet to try again. He tried to show off his speed but it was flagging because it took him so long to try and circle around his much larger father. He tried to dodge blows but maybe Apa was getting tired too because he wasn’t deflecting them as quickly. The edge of his ax touched Taehyung’s shoulder and a moment later a line of blood wept through the cut in his shirt. Taehyung stared at it with shock.

The next blow sent him flying backwards. His breath left him again and he doubled over, stomach cramping as it tried to vomit up nothing.

“Get your ax!” Apa bellowed, furious. Taehyung tried to scramble to his feet but he wasn’t quick enough. He’d barely reached his ax when Apa kicked him, sending him flying again. He didn’t know how long they’d been at it by now, but he knew he felt like he was dying and that he hadn’t gotten to show Apa anything he’d learned yet.

“Do you see this?” Apa demanded of Florin. He grabbed Taehyung by the arm and dragged him up like he was just a weak little kitten. “This is what you teach my son? Is it you or is my son lazy?”

“I work hard–” Taehyung tried to say but Florin spoke over him, “I am sorry, my Thane, I do my best with him but–”

“But what?” Apa demanded, stomping over to him, Taehyung still a limp ferret in his grasp. “What are you saying about my son? He is not big and strong and capable?”

In a burst of strength, Taehyung tried to prove he was those things by kicking at Apa’s ribs. Apa simply tossed him aside and grabbed Florin by the throat.

“If you cannot teach my son to be better I will replace you,” he snarled. “The gods do not waste breath on the weak.”

“I’m one of the best warriors in the Hold–” Florin began indignantly but Apa punched him in the face and tossed him aside as easily as he had Taehyung, shouting, “You are weak! You are worthless! You are not worthy of teaching my son! Run from my sight and do not let me see you again or death will meet you!”

Florin really was one of the most experienced warriors who’d dedicated himself to training since he couldn’t really fight as well anymore because something had happened to his legs. But he was still tough and Taehyung didn’t think there was anything Florin hadn’t been trying to teach him. He was plenty big and brave and scary and strong.

Taehyung tried to stand but found his arms and legs were shaking too badly. Apa stomped over to him now and he could see the fury all over Apa’s face. He’d failed. He hadn’t impressed him. He was the only son of Thane Greybeard and he was seven years old and being taught by another great warrior but he wasn’t getting big and strong fast enough. He hadn’t even been quick.

“Stand up. We keep going,” Apa yelled at him. “We’ll stay here until you do something worthy of your birth–”

“Njal,” Ama called. Taehyung hadn’t realized she was here at all. Apa had them training in one of the circles that was tucked away because he didn’t want anyone gawking at them –now Taehyung understood he didn’t want anyone to see what a bad warrior in training he was. A few people had tried to watch in the beginning but Apa had scared them off. Now, as Ama ran forward, Taehyung could see a healer lurking, and the way people walking by in the distance glanced nervously over. They were all scared of Apa too right now.

“He’s exhausted now,” Ama said. “He’s bleeding and–”

“You think warriors don’t bleed? We are Avvar! We shed blood in training so we may shed others’ blood on the battlefield.”

“He’s only seven–”

“Silence, woman!” Apa shouted and backhanded her. She stumbled backwards, clutching her face.

“Njal!” she said again. “You’re being too hard on–”

“Enough!” Apa roared at her.

“I can fight!” Taehyung shouted, leaping forward and drawing on every muscle in his body to lift the ax. He was afraid Apa would accidentally kill Ama. He got like that sometimes. He forgot he didn’t need to use so much strength. Taehyung understood Ama wanted to protect him, but he was seven, that wasn’t her job anymore. Now he was almost a man and it was his job to protect her! “I’m a warrior, Ama. I’m strong.”

“I know you’re strong but– you’ll kill him, Njal! He’s still young!”

“Make me another baby if you need something small and weak,” Apa said to her, then spat on the ground by her feet. “You have made me a son, now I will make him a man.”

Taehyung lifted his axe, ready to push through and fight harder and do whatever Apa asked of him so he could be the man Apa wanted him to be.

“He’s my son–”

Apa sent her flying again. Ama was very light, tall and thin. The healer Trygve caught her and Taehyung held his breath until Ama had risen to her feet.

“Focus, Taehyung,” Apa growled, blocking his view. “Don’t be distracted by any woman. Women come and go but strength is forever. From now on, I will train you.”

Taehyung gave him a serious nod.

It didn’t last long. Certainly it didn’t last as long as it felt. Apa had already hurt him and frightened the strength out of him and Taehyung’s best efforts were like a tickle. Very shortly he couldn’t even hold the ax up while Apa shouted at him about being weak and pathetic and no blood of his. When blood finally made it hard to see and he was dizzy and his arm hurd so bad he couldn’t help but weap, Apa finally stormed off cursing the gods for giving him such a pathetic son.

Tyrgve crouched beside Taehyung immediately, offering, “Here, child, I will heal your wounds.”

“A warrior doesn’t need healing.”

“A warrior in training does or he will not be strong enough to fight tomorrow,” Tyrgve corrected, hands already glowing blue. “Even adult warriors may seek healing after a difficult day.”

“Don’t get rid of them or Apa won’t know how hard I fought,” Taehyung said before realizing by the confusion on Tyrgve’s face that his words didn’t make sense. Apa had been training with him, of course he knew he hadn’t fought well. But still the impulse gripped him; he didn’t want to be healed. He wanted to wear his injuries with pride like Apa did but… but they hurt so bad. It hurt so bad he could barely breathe. He didn’t like this. He wanted to like this but Apa was frightening and being hurt wasn’t fun and he didn’t like the way Apa had hurt Ama. She wasn’t a warrior!

He lay still as Tyrgve healed the injuries, grateful they were at least behind a rock where no one passing could see them. It was weak to need healing, right?

“Is my Ama all right?” he asked. His wavering voice embarrassed him.

“Yes, she’s all right. She’s at home waiting for you.”

He wished she wasn’t there. Maybe Apa wouldn’t go home right away though. He wasn’t in a good mood as he stomped off, but Taehyung couldn’t tell if he was going towards the Main Hall or taking the path towards their hut at the top of the climbing wall. Apa kept a room off the Main Hall so maybe he would get drunk and sleep there today.

“I will walk you home,” Tyrgve offered as he pulled away. Taehyung looked down at his arms and legs. His shirt was bloody but his shoulder and nose weren’t bleeding anymore, just smeared with red.

“I left some bruises,” Tyrgve explained. “I know you boys wear them like badges. But your arm was nearly broken and you hit your head too many times. You’ll be all right now but please be careful.”

“I’m a warrior,” Taehyung said. “I’m big and strong and brave.”

“I’ll walk you home.”

“I’m not going home yet.”

“Your ama is waiting for you–”

“You aren’t my nursemaid so go!” Taehyung shouted. Tyrgve gave him a shocked look, then stood and walked swiftly away. Good. Ama wasn’t here and Taehyung certainly didn’t need anyone else babying him either.

He’d thought to keep training by himself, now that he was healed, but his legs wouldn’t let him push up. He was thirsty, so thirsty it hurt, and his whole body shivered, cold even though he’d just been sweating so much. He didn’t want to move at all, he decided. Even training right now wouldn’t make Apa happy. Apa was right, he was small and weak. He had to be right, because all Taehyung wanted to do right now was crawl home and curl up in Ama’s lap and cry. That wasn’t the way a warrior behaved.

Instead he was crying right there on the ground, curled up behind the rock. Fear oozed from his body on those tears. Apa was going to kill him trying to make him strong. Apa was going to kill Ama because she wanted Taehyung to stay a baby. Even if he lived, he was only ever going to disappoint Apa. He couldn’t grow up fast enough. If only he had taken training with Florin more seriously but he didn’t really enjoy it so his heart wasn’t always in it and that’s why he was bad at it now. He didn’t really want to swing an ax, he wanted to–

He looked up with fury as someone came around the rock, intruding on his private moment. Jungkook ar Mara gave him that wide-eyed stare and Taehyung shifted like he was going to hit him, certain it would frighten the mouse boy away.

Instead Jungkook ar Mara asked, “Are you still hurt?”

“I’m not hurt. This is what a warrior in training looks like.” Taehyung felt shame and rage turn his face red. How dare this ar Mara brat sneak up on him and catch him crying! He leapt to his feet, dashing the tears from his eyes.

But instead of flinching away, Jungkook argued, “You can’t train to be a warrior until you’re fifteen. You can’t start strength training until you’re twelve. You can only learn um… archery and survival right now. That’s the rule from the gods.”

“Rules like that are for weak people like you. My apa is the Thane!”

“But gods are… the gods…”

“Besides, what do you know? You’re just a little mouse boy! You can’t even fight the other little boys like you!” Taehyung shouted at him.

Jungkook just looked calm and a little concerned as he asked, “Are you hungry?”

“Huh?” Taehyung hadn’t expected the question and just stared at him.

“We’re eating crabs for dinner. You can come eat with me if you want.”

“I don’t want to eat with you.”

“Oh. All right.” Jungkook looked at him like he wanted to say something else but then he shrugged. “The crab is really good.” He turned and began to walk.

Taehyung didn’t care about the crab. He was messy right now and hurting and he ought to go home to Ama to make sure she was ok.

But there was something interesting that Jungkook hadn’t made a big fuss about the way he looked right now. He couldn’t , right? He got beat up by little boys so he couldn't look down on Taehyung for getting beat up by his own father. And maybe if people saw him walking around like this, they’d realize how tough he was. And he was really, really hungry but the last place he wanted to go was the Main Hall where his father probably was.

He pushed to his feet and quickly caught up with Jungkook, bumping into him as he said, “Fine. Your family can be honored to feed the son of the Thane.”

“Uh huh.”

Taehyung’s gaze narrowed at Jungkook ar Mara’s simple response. Did he mean something by that? But he didn’t say anything else. He looked like he was thinking about something else entirely.

They were silent walking next to each other through the Hold. Sometimes people stared at him, but a bloodied boy wasn’t really that interesting or unusual a sight. Belatedly Taehyung worried people might think Jungkook was the one who had bloodied him, but that made so little sense that he didn’t worry about it long. Obviously that was not what had happened.

The ar Mara’s lived in a two-room hut near the docks. It was small, even compared to the hut he and Ama and Apa used to live in. The littlest ar Mara was toddling back and forth across it while Mother Mara and Mina cooked. Jungkook’s father sat at the table doing something with string.

For a moment Taehyung had the laughable urge to hide behind Jungkook. He’d stepped boldly into the hut only to realize that this was nothing like this home. The baby was making a lot of noise and Mina was talking nonstop to Mother Mara and Jungkook’s father sang to himself in a low voice as he worked.

“Ama,” Jungkook ar Mara called. “Can my friend Taehyung eat with us?”

All activity in the hut ceased. The big pot over the fire still bubbled and whatever it was smelled so good Taehyung wanted to cry for it. Suddenly he didn’t think he’d ever been so hungry in his life. The food in the Main Hall was almost always wonderful but Ama’s cooking when they’d lived in the hut hadn’t smelled like that . Suddenly all the training and shouting and bumps and bruises and even the tears pressed down on him, unleashed by the warm smell of whatever was in that pot, and he wanted to cry.

“Yes, it’s all right,” Mother Mara said with a nod of her head. “Are you hurt, child?” Child .

“My father is Thane Greybeard.”

“Yes, I know who you are,” she said. Taehyung glanced at Jungkook’s father, who just gave him a warm smile. Why wasn’t he the one doing the talking? The woman of the house was?

“You’re all bloody,” Mina said. The baby had walked over and Taehyung looked at it with confusion as Jungkook suddenly knelt down for it to hug him. He’d never been so close to such a small child before. He was cute, actually. He wasn’t surprised to see that Jungkook was the kind of boy who would just hug a baby like that. Soft.

“This is my baby brother Yo-han,” Jungkook explained. He picked Yo-han up and the little one laughed and tugged at Jungkook’s hair. He smiled like it was a funny joke and Taehyung wondered what it was like to live with other children.

“Are you injured?” Jungkook’s father finally spoke up. “We can patch you up or send for a healer.”

“I’m already healed. I’m just still… dirty,” he frowned, looking down at his own hands and arms. He glanced at Jungkook, but his arms and face were clean. Everyone in the hut was clean. He was the Thane’s son and he was visiting a family that were fishermen and lived in a small kind of broken hut but he was the dirty hungry one. That was humbling. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was training and I didn’t wash up.”

“Show him where to wash up, Jungkook, and give him one of your shirts if he wants. We can clean and mend the one he has now.”

Taehyung frowned about that. He didn’t need them to fix his shirt. His own Ama could do that. Did these people not understand who he was? He was the son of the Thane! Everyone in the Hold had to take care of him and treat him with respect! He was the one who kept fighting when Jungkook ar Mara was getting beat up –the only one!

“My sister is really good at it,” Jungkook said as he led Taehyung outside to rinse off. They were right by the waterline, which stank of fish here. Fish skeletons and crab shells and bits of cloth and broken bowls littered the short muddy beach. “At mending but she likes to stitch flowers so if you don’t like that maybe you don’t want her to do that.”

Taehyung almost laughed in Jungkook’s face that of course he didn’t want flowers in his shirt! But then he thought about the shoulder of his shirt with a decorative line of flowers and… Ama might like that and think it was pretty. Ama loved flowers. He kind of liked flowers too, even if he wouldn’t admit it to anyone ever. Apa did not like flowers.

So he shrugged, “It’s fine. Flowers are ok.”

“She doesn’t have to do flowers but sometimes she likes to.”

They slid out of their clothes and rinsed off quickly, then Taehyung carried his shirt back to the hut. Inside Jungkook gave him a shirt he didn’t expect to fit but it did, probably too big for him. Taehyung felt a little bad now to take a shirt from people who didn’t have the blessings he did with his apa but he’d just be careful and return the shirt.

He caught Mother Mara watching him closely as he trailed Jungkook to the table. Baby Yo-han was trying to climb up and Jungkook picked him up and swung him around to make him laugh before setting him down.

“More more!” Yo-han cried, trailing after Jungkook, but Mother Mara had told him and Taehyung to start shelling the crabs.

“We put the meat in the stew,” Jungkook explained as Taehyung held back, staring at the work all of them were doing at the table –all except Yo-han, though after a moment he climbed onto a chair and Mina gave him a crab to try and fail with. Jungkook paused, then offered, “I can teach you if you don’t know how!”

“I know how,” Taehyung snapped. “I used to eat crab all the time with my Ama. We lived on the wetlands.”

Jungkook’s father nodded, “That’s right, we saw your cabin when we would go out crabbing.”

“Yeah, I saw you,” Taehyung admitted, but it suddenly felt strange to speak to another adult who was also Jungkook’s father and inviting him into their house to eat so maybe he didn’t want to be as demanding towards him as he usually was towards adults. He wasn’t feeling like the respected Thane’s son right now but he also wasn’t feeling not respected. He just felt odd here. This place felt strange.

Mina snuck a sliver of meat into her mouth and, when she realized Taehyung had seen her, giggled, “Oops.” He just stared, not sure why it was funny.

The crabs were already cooked anyway, so once the meat was tossed into the pot, there wasn’t much longer to wait before Mother Mara said it was ready to eat. Shelling the crabs had taken longer than the last period of cooking and then Taehyung was given a seat not at the table but around the fire with his bowl and a mug of water, nothing fancier. There were seats for everyone, even Yo-han though he kept climbing up and down until Mother Mara finally made him sit on the floor and he leaned against Jungkook’s legs. Obviously Yo-han thought Jungkook ar Mara was amazing. Taehyung wondered what he’d think when he got older and realized his brother was small and got beat up a lot.

But no one seemed to think Jungkook was pathetic here. Taehyung was used to adults talking over supper, but he definitely wasn’t used to the children doing it too. When Mina or Jungkook spoke, the parents listened with interest and asked questions, like they were two more adults! Sure, Ama spoke closely like that with him, but not around other people, and not at mealtimes since they ate in the Main Hall with Apa.

Taehyung almost wanted to test it out himself and say something, see if everyone listened to him. But what did he have to say? He didn’t want to talk about training with Apa, but that was kind of it for his life except for lessons and spending time with Ama. He didn’t have any interesting stories really, nothing that he thought would interest or impress the people here and he felt that was important, that if he was going to talk, he wanted to say something they would find really impressive. He was the son of the Thane. He was blessed by the gods and they were just fisherfolk but he wasn’t sure they cared about that. No one brought up Jungkook’s fights either, or Taehyung’s involvement. Did they not know Jungkook got beat up all the time? They must know. Or they didn’t appreciate that Taehyung was helping him?

Instead they talked about the baby Mother Mara was carrying and a blessing the Augur had given, and a dream she’d had that the baby was born a beautiful rose with sharp thorns, and about how Mina had won some recognition in her class, and about a whether or not they should still go on a trip they took in the summer to fish at the Great Ocean. Taehyung’s eyes went wide when, pressed by Mina and Jungkook to tell Taehyung, the father told him stories of the biggest, bluest water stretching as far as the eye could see, and ships as big as the Main Hall, and fish that jumped from the water and made laughing noises and were big as a man, called purpoises. And they were smart! Blessed by Bjorn Reed-beard with enough intelligence not to be easily caught. Taehyung had never been from Red Lion Hold, and the only things he tended to hear about were battles and raids and how pathetic the other Holds were, so to hear Jungkook’s family speak with awe about the Blue Fins and the Reed Sea Holds was mesmerizing.

“I’d like to go on a boat like that,” Taehyung admitted.

Jungkook’s father grinned, “Maybe someday you can join us. All young men apprentice at some point.”

“I will be a warrior like my apa,” was Taehyung’s instant response with a laugh. As if he could even pretend to apprentice with a fisherman!

“Every role in the Hold is equally important in the eyes of the gods,” Mother Mara told him. “We are blessed to take that journey. We meet many people, see interesting things, remember to appreciate our home, and the people of the Hold get to remember how much they rely on our fish and crabs!”

“We’re the busiest fish stall!” Mina told Taehyung proudly.

In the face of their pride at their own profession though, Taehyung was embarrassed and defended, “My Apa is the most important though! He’s the Thane of everyone! Maybe if you were warriors too Jungkook would learn to fight and not get beat up by the other boys.”

The instant frowns on all faces present let Taehyung know he had said something wrong.

After a moment, Jungkook’s father said, “The gods encourage us to look after each other within a Hold. Little boys who don’t feel seen or heard try to put others down around them. It is easy to feel strong if you pick on those smaller than you but that’s not true strength.”

“The gods will see justice in the end,” Mother Mara said. Jungkook and Mina sat quietly while Yo-han watched them. He seemed bothered that Jungkook was quiet and tried to climb up Jungkook’s back.

“I don’t bully Jungkook,” Taehyung insisted, feeling like maybe they were confused. “I helped him because I know how to fight and he doesn’t. I think it’s stupid to beat up smaller boys too.”

“It’s really nice of you,” Mina said. “Those other boys are just awful. I hope the Lady drops hailstones on their heads–”

“Mina.”

“They deserve it!”

Jungkook just mumbled, “Someday I’ll be bigger and I can fight my own battles.”

“The gods look after us,” his father nodded. “Sometimes by providing us with friends who can watch our backs.”

Taehyung thought they meant him, but Mina agreed with her father, “Yoongi promised me he’s going to keep watching because he said he needs to practice his magic and he won’t get in so much trouble for using it before his training is done if he uses it helping someone.”

“He shouldn’t–” Jungkook’s father began but Mother Mara shrugged, “Eh, if the boys get themselves blown up…”

“Ama!” Jungkook and Mina both actually laughed at the same time. Mother Mara smiled at them. She usually had a hard look to her but she looked like Taehyung’s own Ama in that moment.

“I’m not scared of magic or of those boys,” Taehyung said. “Apa is proud of me if I fight good so I can help too.”

Jungkook just looked at him and didn’t look very grateful about it, but his parents thanked Taehyung instead.

Soon food was all gone and Taehyung realized he had better get home or Ama might be there worrying about him. When Mina took his bowl, he remembered at least to say thank you to the ar Mara’s for the food and wish them blessings from the gods. Jungkook followed him outside, to his surprise, catching his arm before he could run off.

“Can you teach me to fight?” he asked without any lead up. “I don’t care if boys bother me but sometimes they bother my sister too.”

“Oh.” Taehyung glanced back through the open doorway where Mina was already looking at the torn part of his shirt. He had told her he didn’t mind if she practiced flowers on it which had surprised her but she’d looked really happy about it. If it was too embarrassing he’d just get rid of it; he could have all the shirts he wanted now anyway since he was the Thane’s son.

Taehyung looked at Jungkook for a moment. He was smiling. His family was calling him back inside and he didn’t look annoyed about it because his family all loved each other. Taehyung thought Jungkook’s parents might not even be that mad that he wasn’t immediately obeying them. He felt a little jealousy that he didn’t want to admit, because Apa was the best and greatest warrior in the Hold and wanted him to be great too but having a little brother who crawled on your back and an older sister who fixed things for you and both a mother and a father who listened to you and already thought you were great was kind of… It seemed nice. Taehyung was blessed by the gods! He didn’t want a different family! But maybe he could just eat here sometimes when he wanted to feel what that was like.

So Taehyung answered Jungkook’s request, “Yeah. You need to learn to fight for yourself too. Maybe I can eat with your family sometimes and maybe I can go to the Great Ocean with you too.”

“Yeah, ok.”

“Ok it’s a deal.” They knocked their foreheads together and patted each other’s backs like the adults did and then Taehyung waved at him and headed home.

Was this what it meant to have a friend? Were they friends now? They had a deal where both of them got something they wanted and… Probably Apa wouldn’t be happy to know this was who he had made friends with but at least he could say confidently Jungkook wasn’t going to stab him. His puny arms definitely couldn’t drive a knife in, and Taheyung could disarm him and actually stab him before he tried a second time. No problem.

He wondered what kind of flowers Mina would stitch into his shirt.

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#taehyung fanfiction #taehyung ff #kim taehyung fanfic #taehyung smut #warrior taehyung #bts fantasy au #taehyung fantasy au #love triangle #friends to lovers #taehyung x oc #prince taehyung

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josiebelladonna · 2 years

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i’ve been getting a couple of questions asking me about one shots, like if i’m going to do them again, and the answer is absolutely yes. it’s just knowing what to write is the thing that’s holding me back. i’m a novelist by trade, i like to write long things so short stuff is admittedly a challenge for me.

one shots pertaining to my big fics, though? not really, no. i’d rather make art instead 😅 i’ve thought about a one shot with eric and belinda in the fever verse but their getting together at the end was the whole point of their arc. fever was long enough as is, too: i’d rather it stand alone with the one shots that it does have and keep on pulling forth with my current universes than rehash it again.

i have my current collection blackened, but that’s just more my saying that nothing is off the table, whether it’s the universes of my long fics or stray ideas. i mention all this because i’ve often found that a whole score of one shots surrounding a big fic is the kiss of death for an author (just from watching companies like disney and pixar churn out spin-offs, sequels, remakes, reboots, and all manner of things while they’re technically in the same universe). i usually think of scenes that don’t really go anywhere and whether or not i’ll put them into one shot form is up to my desire to do so—just to give you an idea, there was a fair amount of deleted scenes from fever (like there were a couple of coney island scenes where alex goes overboard with the funnel cake, and another scene from the ballad where it’s just sam and alex slow dancing to led zeppelin). now it’s dark consisted of the main trilogy, amped and wired (the written parts + the comic), and lots and lots of drawings. there were the spin-offs, the dead trilogy, and also the dead of night, which every now and again i think of finishing because i really liked that one—it was going to have a shoot out between neil and some mounties! and there was another de facto spin-off, the contest, the sex comedy i wrote before fever started taking off. i initially put them under the now it’s dark just because they were all vaguely related to one another. that was pretty much it, though: i put it to bed once i realized fever was calling me. and i went back and took them out of the moniker because they all stand on their own.

but even with the thought of writing now it’s dark through lars’ eyes, there’s really nothing more i can say with it. i did it to introduce blackened and then i realized that was it. nothing more to say.

so, when i see a whole collection of one shots pertaining to a main universe, that tells me one of two things: either the author is out of ideas or they’re lazy. i get it: sometimes you don’t know where a story is going, and you think of a really juicy scene that doesn’t fit in anywhere. i totally get it, it’s happened to me on more than one occasion. but you also run the risk of cheapening the main fic, though. this could just be my desire for a point in a world full of nihilism talking but it seems to me that you wrote the fic for a reason, though. you put your heart into it. you had an idea and so, unless the fic is dead, stick to it (”then commit”, as they say). don’t throw it away just because you wanted to show your adult side.

and being out of ideas is always tragic. i was out of ideas for a couple of years, back in like 2010-2011 (well, and my family life was falling apart and i was swamped with honors classes back then, of course my well ran dry) and i worry about running dry again—i have no clue what will happen this time next year, or even six months from now, or hell, even a week from now. if you’re out of ideas, my love, get out of the fic world and do something else for a bit. go read some books, go do stuff, do something and take care of yourself because you’re stretching yourself thin.

if it’s like a couple of one shots, that’s different. sometimes that’s all you need. sometimes just one is all you need. but a whole collection, though? no, that’s never a good sign.

#something that’s been on my mind for a while now #fic writing #fanfic #ao3 author #text

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pulchritudism · 3 years

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so won’t you pull me closer, kiss me faster? | kento nanami x reader [18+] — ch. 4

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Kento Nanami X Reader

Tags: Beach AU, CEO Kento Nanami, Vacation, Porn with Plot, Romance, Slow Burn

Summary: During the last night of your vacation, an escapade alongside the nightlife strip of the resort you’re staying in leads to a drunken encounter with a stranger, but he’s not exactly who you think he is—he’s much more than that.

Word Count: 21, 826 [as of chapter 4]

Status: Ongoing

Read on AO3

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— CHAPTER 4 —

The second you’re roused awake, soreness pulses all throughout your body and you feel intense aching in your loins. You wince, raising your head ever so slightly to look at the space beside you, only to find it empty.

“Are you up?”

Turning to where the voice came from, you see Nanami on the couch, dressed only in his boxers, reading glasses on and some documents in his hand.

“Mhm, good morning,” you groan, snuggling against his duvet as you ogle his body, “What are you working on so early in the morning?”

“Signing the paperwork I should’ve done last night,” he responds, tapping the pen against the corner of his mouth before bringing it down to scribble over the page, ending his signature with a flick of the wrist.

“Oops,” you smile sheepishly, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he looks up at you with contentment, “I needed that.”

You’re suddenly curious about the work he’s doing. Come to think about it, you’ve never really asked, “This partnership is the one with–what’s his name–Satoru Gojo‘s company, right?”

He’s surprised you’ve begun to catch up on his work, but it’s not like you can help it. You can’t easily forget the name of the person who ended up cock-blocking you the other night.

“Yes. Well, technically it’s a merger,” he explains.

“Oh,” you raise your brows, realizing how much was actually at stake, “It’s that important.”

“Like I said.”

“Well, you seem to hate him,” you muse, pulling the sheets aside, shifting on the bed to lay on your bare stomach, and resting your chin on top of your palms as you watch him read through the documents he’s signing.

“I don’t,” he responds plainly.

“If you’re going to lie, at least make an effort to make it sound convincing,” you chuckle, “What’s he like?”

“Frivolous and egotistical.”

“What else?”

He finally takes his focus off the paperwork and peers at you with stoicism, “Why do you want to know?”

You shrug, “He seems like he’s interesting.”

There’s a long pause.

He blinks at you, thoughts racing in his mind before he empties his hands, “Do you want to spend the day with me?”

“Hm?” you’re taken aback by the sudden change of topic, “What do you mean? Like go to your meetings?”

He slowly gets up from his seat, walks across the room, and crawls back into bed, making you get up and lay on your back as he settles on top of you, “No. I think I’m in dire need of a longer break, do you want to come join me?”

You beam at him, hands resting on his shoulders, “Well in that case, sure. I literally have nothing else to do anyway.”

“Perfect. But first, transfer your things over here before the new guests arrive.”

“That I will do,” you’re laughing lightly when he leans in to peck you on the corner of your lips, drawing back with a tender gaze. The same one he’d given you last night after you had sex.

It takes you by surprise and you stare back at him in bewilderment, wondering if you were just imagining things. And you chalk it up to exactly that, reaching up to stroke his cheek before you sit up and start to dress yourself in last night’s clothes.

“Will you just be staying here?”

He nods, “I’ll finish this up while I wait for you.”

“Okay, see you in a bit then,” you wave at him with a smile before exiting the room and heading to yours in order to pack up.

* * *

By the early afternoon, the weather had cleared up and the sun was scorching. You begin to wonder if there was even actually a storm.

It was the perfect time for a swim, so when Nanami proposed while you were having lunch that the two of you spend the day at the beach, you immediately agreed. After returning to his room and changing into your swimsuits, you head to the beachfront bar, stopping by to get some drinks before he leads you far away from where the usual crowd would be, to an isolated part of the beach near the cliff’s edge where it was just the two of you.

You make your way to the shore just about where the waves stop, slipping your cover up dress over your head. You look behind to see Nanami leisurely walking over to the nearest macrame hammock, in the middle of sipping on his cocktail.

“Do you want to come join me?” you call out to him, hair fluttering uncontrollably due to the sudden breeze.

“Maybe later,” he replies from where he is, gesturing with a nod, “Go ahead.”

”Okay,” you hum, excitedly turning to dip your toes in the water and shuddering at the temperature.

Slowly, you ease your way into the sea, your body getting used to the cold the deeper you go.

When you’ve fully adjusted, you submerge half of your face under the water, narrowing your eyes at Nanami like a predator on a prowl.

He observes you from a distance, taking short swigs from his drink every now and then. And once you feel that you’ve given him enough of your attention, you let yourself float on your back, shutting your eyes as you find a sense of peace in the way the waves rock you.

You swim for several minutes afterwards, basking in the reality that you’re practically enjoying all of this for free now, until you grow tired and eventually swim back to the shore.

Slicking your drenched hair back, you make your way to where Nanami is. He watches you walk towards him, like he has been this entire time, before he wriggles his now empty cocktail glass into the sand. He leans back against the hammock, cushioning his head with an arm.

“Well, it looks like you’re having a good time,” you smile down at him, wringing the water out of your hair.

He sizes you up, an inconspicuously sly smirk appearing on his features for only a moment, “I’m enjoying the view. It’s lovely.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at that, biting down an even wider smile.

You’re about to reply with another banter when he catches you by surprise, reaching out to take your hand and pulling you down to the hammock with him. A small yelp escapes you before you laugh, your back now pressed against his chest and your wet body drenching his shirt. But he couldn’t be bothered by it.

“Have you ever thought about what it’s like to have sex on this?” he whispers in your ear, lightly skimming his fingers against your bare abdomen.

You angle your head to face him, feeling your stomach knotting in reaction to his touch. A smirk manifests on your face, “Now that you’ve mentioned it, I’m quite curious.”

His eyes glint with the way you responded to his not-so-subtle suggestion, and he wastes no time before he leans in to nip at your bottom lip.

You immediately surrender to him. When you part your lips, he hungrily shoves his tongue in your mouth without warning, and you’re able to taste the sweetness of the cocktail he’d just been sipping on earlier. It was addicting, and you can’t get enough of him so you roughly push back against his tongue with your own. A hand comes down to spread your legs wider before slithering under your swimsuit bottom.

Turned on by the thrill of doing it in such an open space, you grind your ass against his crotch, breaking free for a much needed breath afterwards, “Someone might see us.”

“Doesn’t it excite you?”

It was a rhetorical question. He knew very well that it did based on how wet you were getting.

Your toes curl against the edge of the hammock as he touches you shamelessly, and you could only nod in response, flustered at just how right he was.

His ministrations cause you to involuntarily jerk your hips upward in response, and you’re biting down on your lip so hard in order to hold back a moan that you think you’ll begin to draw blood.

Operating on instinct at this point, you reach down, gliding your hand across his abdomen and under his swim trunks, firmly enveloping your hand around his cock before stroking steadily, lightly rubbing the tip of the head every so often.

He groans in your mouth, gripping your hair with his free hand before pushing his tongue deeper into the back of your throat, causing your breath to hitch.

You roll your wrist, twisting whenever you stroked him up and down, feeling him pulsate against your palm. In turn, his movements, which had always been so expertly executed, begin to grow sloppier the longer you went on.

Just as he’s about to be trounced by your touch, he takes a hold of your wrist and pins your hand down to your side. He manages to get a grip on himself, returning the favor you so graciously bestowed upon him by relentlessly fingerfucking you, the dexterity you’re normally used to coming back the moment he was no longer under your spell.

You bite down on your hand, stifling your moans despite the fact that no one else was in close proximity.

“There’s no one around, be as loud as you want.”

You would have given in to him, allowed yourself to let loose. If only it weren’t for the faint figures of people you see from the corner of your eye begin to approach your vicinity. Only when you squint do you realize that it’s a family of four.

He follows your gaze, and when he sees two small figures–most likely children–start to bolt in your direction while frantically yelling and shoving each other, he clicks his tongue before he slips his hand out. You do the same thing to him promptly afterwards.

“Guess we’ll have to find out some other time,” he breathes in your ear, tone laced with annoyance as he tugs your swimwear back to its original position.

You whine at the loss of sensation as you writhe under his grasp, unsatisfied, “Tease.”

“Why don’t you go and say that over to the family enjoying their nice summer vacation? Hm?” he challenges you playfully, “Besides, you’re not the only one left hanging.”

Huffing, you concede to the fact that this is as far as you’ll go with him this time around. But then, you immediately perk up, peering at him with an endearing smile, “Make it up to me later?”

He comes in to give you a quick peck, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

You bite down on your smile, content with his reply, “Well then. Now do you want to swim with me?”

He thinks about it, and it doesn’t take long until he’s decided. He sits up, pulling his damp shirt over his head, “Let’s go.”

Giddily, you hop off the hammock, turning on your heel to drag him with you.

“Are you sure it’s okay for you to skip out on doing work today?” you ask when the two of you have made it into the sea, hands propped on his shoulders.

“One day off never killed anybody.”

“You’re exactly right,” you giggle, “So are you enjoying your little break?”

His smile is subtle, “Yes, I haven’t felt this relaxed in quite some time.”

“Really? Then I’m glad,” you hum blissfully, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Under the saltwater, he lightly strokes either side of your waist, that equivocally pensive look returning on his face as he stares into your eyes. It seems as if he’s mulling over something; he does so for about a minute or two.

“Can I take you somewhere?” he finally asks.

You raise a curious brow, evidently interested. Nanami owned this place, which meant that he probably knew it like the back of his hand. So if he wanted to take you anywhere, you knew it was worth seeing.

“I love adventures,” you beam at him.

It hasn’t even been five minutes since you’ve been in the water, but he already begins to head back onto the shore, walking towards where there were more people. Perplexed, you watch him disappear into the distance. And when he doesn’t return for some time, you make your way to sit on the beachside and wait for him, keeping your head down as you absentmindedly wiggle your toes into the sand.

Eventually, he returns, his tall frame shielding you from the late afternoon sun. But you notice that there’s an unusually large shape alongside his shadow. When you crane your head, you see that he’s carrying a kayak.

“Where are we going?” you ask, eyes sparkling with even more curiosity now.

“You’ll see,” he says vaguely as hauls the kayak into the sea, tossing one of the paddles to you which you so skilfully catch, “Do you know how to kayak?”

“I can learn,” you’re so excited you practically caper towards him. He scoffs at your demeanor in amusement.

Being an inexperienced paddler, he lets you sit at the bow while he positions himself by the stern, where he has the most control over the steering.

You listen intently as he gives you a quick rundown of what to do, which doesn't seem too difficult given the fact that he’ll end up doing most of the work on your behalf anyway. Once you let him know that you’re good to go, the two of you take the time to paddle around the coast’s cliff and through an inlet, which eventually leads you to this hidden cove you would have never known existed had it not been for him.

As the sight comes into view, you gape at it in awe, glancing behind you to see Nanami already looking at you, as if in anticipation of your reaction. When you lock eyes with him, you feel heat rise up your cheeks and you immediately face forward with a sheepish smile, pushing through the last stretch until you finally reach the coast.

He helps you out of the kayak before towing it to the shore, ensuring it wasn’t going to drift into the ocean. And once that’s done, he walks over to where you are, watching you continue to marvel at the scenery around you.

“Follow me,” he takes your hand and leads you into the entrance of a cave right in front of where he’d positioned the kayak. You keep your steps wary, initially terrified of such an unfamiliar place especially when the light behind you begins to fade the deeper you go into the cave. You’ve watched enough natural disaster documentaries to know the possibility of things going wrong.

“Kento, I’m scared,” you whisper, as if speaking any louder would pose a hazard.

He squeezes your hand in reassurance, “Don’t worry. I’m just here.”

That manages to calm you a little. By this time, your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and you keep your hold on him tight as he navigates through the tunnel system. He knew all the turns, dips, and grooves of the cave like it was second nature to him. Each step he took had purpose, as if he already knew exactly where to take you.

After almost tripping a handful of times, you finally reach the end of the tunnel you’re walking through which eventually opens up to a cavern with a huge cavity by the top of its dome, and another opening to reveal a magnificent view of the ocean. The golden hour causes the sedimentary formation to glisten and sparkle, reflecting the beauty of its richness. It was otherworldly, and absolutely marvelous.

When he casts his eyes over the cavern, he does so with nostalgia. And that’s when you realize that this wasn’t just a place he found beautiful, this was a place he found special.

“I have never seen sunsets as breathtaking as I have here,” he tells you, helping you up a series of limestone formations to give you a better look of the view.

“I don’t… even know what to say,” you gasp, awestruck as you carefully make your way up with his assistance.

The moment you reach the peak of the formation, the curved edge of the cavern perfectly frames the setting sun as if it were a Monet painting. Nanami sits on the surface of the limestone and you take your place beside him.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it? When I’m in here, I like to pretend that I don’t have anything to care about,” he muses bittersweetly.

“I can’t even believe such a beautiful place has been here all along. How did you even come across this?”

He ponders on it for a bit, “I honestly can’t remember. It’s been some time since then, but I guess you could say I was just desperate for an escape.”

“Hm, I get it,” you smile at him, knowing him just enough to understand why, “I’d love to stay here forever and forget about the world.”

“Exactly. I like to think that I have this place all to myself sometimes,” he keeps his gaze fixated forward, watching the sun slowly begin to dip into the horizon, “I’ve never been here with anyone else before. Not until you.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“Why is that?” you ask, concealing your fluster.

“What are you asking me?” he gives you a once-over, “Why I’ve never taken anyone here?”

You shake your head, “Why me?”

He pauses, your question sinking in, prodding at his thoughts. Then after a moment, he exhales, looking up at the sunlight peeking through the crown of the cavern.

“I thought that it was worth taking you here with me.”

When you look back at him, you see a rare expression on his face—a blithe smile. It seems as if he’s genuinely enjoying your company, and you start to think that maybe there was a slim chance he was actually fond of you, more so than you had anticipated.

But it wasn’t like you were counting on it… Were you?

Regardless of what you thought, there was no denying the solace you felt with what he did next.

It was the simplest of gestures. Keeping his eyes on the last few orange, pink, and purple hues across the sea’s horizon, Nanami raises his pinky and shyly brushes it against the back of your hand. When you turn your palm over for him, it gives him the resolve to interweave his fingers with yours.

And just as it’s been every sunset since the beginning of time, the two of you watch in silence as the sun draws its last breath, yielding to illuminate the beauty of its true love.

* * *

It’s a miracle you manage to make it back to the resort in an hour after that. When the light had gone, the tunnels became impossible to navigate through if it weren’t for the fact that Nanami knew the ins-and-outs of the place, having visited it a handful of times.

It was late in the evening. After having dinner, the two of you retreated back into his room where he invited you to waste time away by the outdoor hot tub. You hadn’t even noticed the section of his suite with the sliding room door that opened out to a spacious deck, probably because you’ve been in his bedroom most of the time.

Now buzzed by alcohol and nicotine, you seek after your final vice as the two of you make out in the comforts of the hot, bubbling water. The kisses you exchange are gentler, and dare you even say, intimate.

He pulls you to sit on his lap, and you clamp your knees down on his hips as you trail your lips down his neck, peppering him with lithe kisses.

Reaching for the glass of bourbon by the coping of the hot tub, he takes a swig of the drink before tipping your chin up with the rim of the glass. Then, he brings his free hand up to graze over your top lip. You hang your mouth slightly ajar for him, allowing him to ease a thumb in.

Slowly, you run your tongue across his extremity before sucking on it at an unhurried pace, peering at him through your lashes.

He downs the bourbon in one go, setting the glass back to where it was originally. As he keeps his eyes on you, he tightens his jaw, his breathing beginning to shallow. That’s when you feel something poking you from down below, which then encourages you to keep going, swirling your tongue around his finger, licking, and sucking.

But you didn’t plan to fully satiate him just yet. So, releasing him with a pop of the mouth, you grin at him with a smug look on your face, “There’s more where that came from.”

He scoffs, “Now who’s being the tease?”

“Hey, you promised you’ll make it up to me earlier,” you tell him, remembering where you two left off this afternoon.

“And I will, if you behave.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“Would you like to find out?”

“Oh, I’d love to,” you release a small, teasing chuckle in response. Keeping that smugness, you extend your arm to pick up your lit cigarette on the ashtray right beside his glass.

“Let me take a hit,” he attempts to take it from you.

But you’re quick to retract your hand with a shake of the head, “Uh-uh.”

Instead, you bring the cigarette to your lips and take a long drag, holding it deep in your lungs as you keep your eyes locked on him. You lean closer, parted lips brushing against his as you continue to hold in your breath.

Once it becomes unbearable, you shotgun the smoke into his mouth and he allows you to. He draws in the breath you’ve just exhaled, not once looking away as it’s now his turn to hold it in.

Finally, he sighs, the smoke wafting on your face before dissipating into thin air.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he breathes out, the last bit of smoke leaving his system.

A smirk materializes on your features as you rest your head on his shoulder, taking another drag of the cigarette before snuffing it out on the ashtray, “If that’s how I can get you to remember me, so be it.”

“Why do you assume I won’t remember you?” he asks, caressing the small of your back.

You hum, mind hazy, “For a man like you, I’m sure countless people have come and gone. Don’t tell me you’ve never grown tired of a face and forgotten them.”

“Is that what you still think of me?” he raises a brow, seemingly having taken light offense to your sentiment but you’re too tipsy to tell.

You prop yourself back up to face him, “Then tell me, what happens to us after I leave?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because by then, I’ll no longer be yours.”

You’ll be mine for the next four days. Those were his words, and a day has passed since then. You wonder what will become of you when your time with him in this place runs out.

He looks at you in contemplation of what you’ve just said. It was minute, but you notice the change in his expression; the subtle furrow of the brow, the unnoticeable downturn of the lips. He’d always been easy to read when he was annoyed or bothered, but this time around, you couldn’t tell what was in his mind.

An uncomfortable air of stillness envelopes you.

“Then whatever happens after shouldn’t matter,” he says once the thoughts have settled.

He’s right. It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did to you. For some reason, you had hoped that he’d refute what you’d just said, make an attempt to keep you, but he doesn’t.

Because the reality is that there won’t be an ’after'. The second you board that plane and leave, the fantasy comes to a close. You said it yourself: no strings attached. He won’t travel across the world to come and find you; and contrary to what he told you, he’ll probably forget about you and find another person to screw around with, just as you posit he had a number of times already—you’re not special.

In fact, he’s looking at you so indifferently you wonder if the person in front of you is the same one who brought you to that cavern just a few hours ago.

You’re so caught up in your emotions that you don’t notice you’ve just been blankly staring at him all this time.

“Are you okay?” he draws you out of your musings, matching the look on your face.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Yeah,” you nod, clearing your throat as you move away from him, rising from the comforts of the warm water, “… I’m just starting to feel a little lightheaded.”

You make your way up the steps, picking up the towel by one of the lounge chairs and wrapping it tightly around your body, turning to look at him.

He stares back at you, the indifference in his expression now turning even more distant, and it makes your heart sink.

“I’m going to take a shower,” you tell him weakly before you turn on your heel and head inside to do just that, not even bothering to wait for a response.

When you finish your long, hot bath and finally step outside of the bathroom, the atmosphere has noticeably changed for the worse. He passes you by in silence as he walks in the room you just exited from, presumably to take a shower himself.

You don’t know why, but you end up waiting for him, hearing the water running from closed doors, overthinking the entire time. You had hoped that once he exited the shower, the heavy air between you two would be gone, but the moment the door to the bathroom opens and he walks out with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, you tense up.

As he walks over to sit on the edge of the mattress, you flip on your side facing away from him without putting a thought into the action. You just did it, as if your body momentarily operated on autopilot, paying no attention to whatever it was he was going to say or do.

And as your back is turned to him, you wonder— how? How can he take you to a place he’s never taken anyone before, a place that meant so much to him? How can he look at you with such tenderness in his eyes? And most importantly, how can he so easily shut it all off in an instant, as if he never even knew you?

The answer to those questions could have been obtained simply. All you had to do was ask. But you found it easier to ignore him, to save you from the heartbreak of knowing that you are nothing but a fling.

He places his hand on your thigh, and before he can say anything, you beat him to it.

“I think I want to rest tonight,” you say softly yet abruptly, pulling his sheets up to cover your face which consequently gives you a whiff of his scent. You feel indescribably empty for some reason.

There’s a pause before you no longer feel the warmth of his palm, and the mattress promptly rises due to his departure, “In that case, I’ll try to get some work done.”

That’s the last thing any of you said to each other that night.

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kindahoping4forever · 3 years

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...Ready For It? // Ashton Irwin

Thank you to everyone who said they wanted to read this story, whether it was in the poll I posted 12 hours ago or when I first posted In My Dreams... You Should See The Things We Do back in June (!) - I actually started working on this not that long after I posted and while the skeleton concept stayed the same, everything else was kind of fluid until last month when I finally felt satisfied with it. As always, thank you to @cal-puddies for listening to me whine and obsess over every detail and for (virtually) slapping me upside the head every time I said I was going to just scrap it (and there were many times, trust.)

Note this is a sequel but I think there’s enough context within this piece that you’d be able to enjoy as a standalone if you haven’t read or forgot what happened during In My Dreams...

Warnings: Sexual tension, frustration and resolution. I couldn’t figure out how to do specific warnings without also spoiling the narrative (yes, really) so this is kind of a blanket fluffy smut warning. The sex is explicit in detail but not extreme in nature. ‘Tis a soft, dirty story you’re about to read. Also yes, Ash wears the mountain pants again and no, I will not apologize.

Word Count: 10,555

Masterlist // Ko-Fi and New 2021 Taglist linked above

Let me know what you think!

“I can’t say this is how I imagined getting you out of your clothes for the first time but after months of isolation, I’ll take what I can get,” you quip.

Ashton giggles as he peels off his button down shirt, leaving him in a classic white tank. “I can’t say anything about tonight has gone the way I imagined it would,” he confesses. “I’m sorry things have been kind of a bust.”

You try not to blatantly ogle his muscular build as you playfully jab, “You mean, you didn’t spend all that time longing for us to spend hours waiting outside a restaurant for a socially distant table only to be turned away because now it’s closing time and ending up having to eat drive thru burgers in the backseat of your car?”

“With ketchup dripping all over one of my best shirts? And you saving the day with a suspiciously convenient stain remover pen?” He riffs, passing his top to you.

“Exactly how I pictured it,” you shrug, dabbing at his shirt with the aforementioned magic pen. “Shame, our fantasies tend to match up a lot better than this.”

You’d never thought much of long distance relationships and you especially never thought you’d find yourself in one with only a few miles separating you but 2020 had been full of surprises; getting to know Ash had turned out to be the silver lining in an otherwise terrible year.

You’ve each reflected on it plenty and agreed it seems as if your connection was destined to see you both through this strange period. You met at the last party you were invited to before quarantine started, you ran into each other again at the last concert either of you got to attend. Your first date was also your final restaurant meal, the last time you went to a movie was with a group of mutual friends and you sat next to him, giggling like a teenager, intentionally brushing his fingers in the popcorn tub.

When the stay at home order was issued, it didn’t take long for you to check in with each other and while it wasn’t an easy time, you were grateful to build a bond with literally no outside influence. And now after countless texted inside jokes, heart to heart phone calls (and more than a few naughty ones), restrictions had been relaxed and you were finally able to reunite. Only the real world is proving to be a bit more complicated than either of you remember.

“You know, I’m not usually a ‘hop in the backseat on a first date’ kind of gal, but this is pretty fun,” you joke.

Ashton grins. “If it makes you feel any better, I think technically this is maybe our third or fourth date?”

“Anything pre-quarantine doesn’t count,” you shake your head insistently. “That was a lifetime ago, another world. I cook now, I go for walks, I do crosswords now. Whoever you went out with in The Before Times - I don’t know her.”

His loud laugh fills the car and the warmth of it overwhelms you; after months of hearing it through a speaker, you can’t believe you’re finally getting to witness it in person.

"So if we’re starting over at square one, then what’s the explanation for that kiss you laid on me when I picked you up?” He teases.

“I’m a complex woman, I feel like you should know that by now,” you reply with a coy shrug, handing him his now stain free shirt.

The two of you finish your meals, chatting happily and making non-stop jokes about what a fail your date was. You’re relieved at how natural things are flowing; you knew there was undeniable chemistry but part of you was still nervous about getting used to being around each other - another person, even - again. But beyond the standard date jitters, things were comfortable and familiar.

Your anxiety briefly returns as he pulls the car into your driveway. Of course you want to invite him in, you’ve been waiting so long to invite him in but things just feel… off. You turn, ready to offer an apologetic goodnight but before you get a chance, he’s turning to look at you sheepishly.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but would you mind if we maybe called it a night?” He rushes out, nervously running a hand through his hair. You watch him, fascinated. You’re still not used to how long his hair got in quarantine and you’re definitely not used to seeing him bashful. “I know we joked about it and I appreciate you being cool about everything but I really did want to give you the night out you deserve… and that just didn’t happen. I’d like to try again.”

Your heart swells at his sincerity; he’d always been so genuine and open over the phone, but it’s almost overwhelming experiencing it while he’s looking into your eyes. “Have I never told you that ketchup stains are one of my biggest turn ons?” You tease, hoping to ease some of his obvious embarrassment. “Hey, we’ve waited this long, what’s a little bit longer?”

A little bit longer ends up being the following weekend. It turns out, coming up with romantic and yet responsibly distanced date ideas is harder than either of you thought. With you both having the luxury of working from home and generally not having to venture out unless absolutely necessary, you both decide you’re most comfortable with eliminating the public out of the equation as much as you can.

You settle on a short hike followed by a picnic and when you open your front door you realize just how unprepared you are for the concept of Morning Ash. You smile to yourself as you realize that he must have overslept as his face is still adorably puffy from sleeping, hair still wet from the shower. Yesterday’s five o’clock shadow is still present - he must have been running so late he had to forego his morning shave. The thought of waking up next to him looking like this pops into your mind, that soon you could be the reason he’s running late in the morning and your stomach actually drops.

You push your thoughts aside as you move to greet him with a hug; his cologne is prominent and obviously freshly sprayed and you think to yourself that you're excited to smell like him for the rest of the day.

“Got a surprise for you in the car,” he murmurs.

You’re in the middle of wondering how he makes even a simple white t-shirt look devastating when he opens the passenger door for you. Before you even climb in, you’re instantly greeted by the smell of fresh coffee and breakfast burritos and he chuckles at the way your face lights up.

“Flowers seemed too formal for a morning date, I figured caffeine and grease was just as nice.”

“I’ve never felt more seen by a partner,” you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a sweet, slow kiss.

You start to pull away to get in the car but Ashton snakes his arms around you and draws you back in for a few more smooches. “Figure we should get as many of these in as we can now, those burritos are no joke,” he laughs.

It’s a bit of a drive to get to a hiking trail that seemed unlikely to be crowded but you don’t mind. After months of waiting to be in this man’s presence, the more time you can spend with him the better. The trip passes quickly, with the two of you basking in each other’s company, play-arguing over playlists and agreeing that “when this is all over” you should plan a road trip together.

“Looks like we’ve got the place to ourselves,” he observes, pulling the car into the empty lot. He’s first out of the car and you hear a distinct “UGH” from him as soon as he steps out. He sees your puzzled look through the windshield as he walks around to your side to open your door. “I didn’t expect it to be so fuckin’ hot,” he explains.

You get out and instantly scrunch up your face as a gust of hot wind breezes over you. “Well, we did travel more inland, I guess it makes sense it’d be a little warmer,” you reason.

You commiserate about the weather and then Ash starts gathering your things from the trunk of the car, taking non-essentials out of your backpacks since the heat is going to make your hike a lot less leisurely than planned.

Despite the weather, the first portion of your hike is nice: you stroll and talk, enjoying the scenery and your time together. Ashton brought his camera with him and you catch him sneaking a few photos of you along the trail so you teasingly start snapping an excessive amount of pics of him using your phone.

As you get closer to the area you planned on stopping at for lunch, the heat starts getting more and more intense. The morning clouds have now dissipated and the sun is bright and unrelenting, causing the conversation to drag as you both start breathing a little more labored, focusing on getting to your stopping point as quickly as possible. It takes a lot longer than expected and by the time you reach your picnic spot, you’re both exhausted and covered in sweat.

You spread a blanket on the ground and immediately throw yourself on it, grateful for a chance to rest. You look up and see Ash peeling off his t-shirt and draping it over a rock in hopes it will dry before you have to head back.

Normally you’d be silently reprimanding yourself for staring at his bare flesh on display but truthfully all you’re thinking about is how much skin he’s exposing to the sun. “Think we left the sunscreen in the car,” you declare, sitting up to dig through your stuff. “As much as I’m enjoying the show, you’re gonna get fried if you don’t throw that back on.”

He sprawls out on the blanket next to you. “We’re shaded, it’ll be fine,” he insists, pulling his sweat-soaked hair back with a rubber band from his wrist.

The picnic is pleasant but far from the romantic adventure you’d envisioned. You’d hoped the two of you would be laughing under a tree, eating a delicious meal as an equally delicious breeze grazes your skin. The reality is the two of you sitting in silence because you’re so uncomfortable under the unforgiving sunshine, eating food that you would’ve preserved better had you known about the weather, as a hot wind scorches your skin. The part of you that had fantasized about sneaking in a heated makeout can’t get enough of the irony that this date is definitely heated, just not in the way it should’ve been.

With the peak temperature of the day still to come, you agree to call it and head for the car already; Ash puts his shirt back on and you notice him wincing as he moves his obviously sunburned skin, but you choose to say nothing.

The trek back is quiet, both of you physically drained and a bit mentally defeated at yet another date gone awry. At one point, you stop in a shaded area to catch your breath and you give him a quick kiss. “Had fun,” you say quietly. He offers you a soft smile in return.

The drive home is equally lowkey, the discontent and exhaustion of the day filling where there should be sexual tension. He knows the mood has deflated considerably so he doesn’t even ask you to come back to his, he just drives you home.

The car pulls into your driveway and you turn to him. “Think we’re cursed or something?” Your voice is joking but he can detect the undertone of worry.

Ash gives you a bright smile that’s instantly a comfort. “Nah… maybe cursed with too much ambition and insufficient planning skills but I have no doubt this is exactly where I’m meant to be.” He reaches for your hand, interlacing your fingers and kissing your knuckles.

He walks you to your door and gives you a long kiss that almost has you reconsidering inviting him in. “We got this,” he whispers.

You ruffle his hair. “I’ve also got aloe you can borrow for these sunburns, how are you even able to move?” You laugh, unlocking your door.

A few days pass before either of you broach the subject of another date; you’re finally the one to bring it up and you both agree on a simple dinner at home for the next night.

“Third time’s a charm, right?” You joke as he opens the door.

He draws you in for a slow kiss as you step inside. You murmur when you feel his facial hair brush against you; his beard is fuller than when you last saw him and you suspect he may have quit shaving simply based on the reaction you’d had to the look on your date. “Well, we’re already off to a good start, I’d say,” he comments against your lips.

You’ve only ever seen Ashton’s house in the background of your video chats and when he notices you looking around with fascination, he excitedly offers to give you a tour. You swear you can actually hear your heart going pitter patter as he proudly escorts you around, sharing funny memories about his friends involving each room or telling elaborate stories about different trinkets he owns. You can tell he’s missed entertaining people in his home and you’re so happy that you’re able to fill that void for him tonight.

You follow him to the kitchen. “Smells amazing, must be quite the dish,” you tease, knowing full well you sent him the “secret” recipe for your grandma’s spaghetti sauce the night before. He pokes at you and you giggle, “Anything I can do to help?”

“The groceries should be delivered any minute,” he answers, checking his phone. “There’s gloves and sanitizer wipes under the sink if you don’t mind taking care of that when it arrives.”

A few minutes later, you peck his cheek as you pass by to go outside and tend to your assignment. Ash nearly spirals when it’s discovered that the shopper made some substitutions without asking but you reassure him that dinner’s not ruined even if the sauce uses regular sugar instead of brown and will be poured over fettuccine noodles instead of spaghetti.

“Not to jinx anything but I think this is our best first date yet,” you joke after dinner, getting out two coffee mugs from the cabinet he’d directed you to.

“All we had to do was eliminate the variables: other people, the weather, the outside world in general,” he ticks off the list on his fingers with a smile.

You hit the brew button on the coffeemaker and slide closer to where he stands loading the dishwasher. “Well. Just proves that all we really need is each other,” you muse, with a sweet smile. He grins at you, drying his hands so that he can cradle your face and kiss you. His hands are soft from the soap he just used and you sigh approvingly into his mouth as his thumb draws circles on your cheek.

That flirty but sweet tone continues as you move to the living room; you sit on the couch, drinking your coffee, chatting comfortably. You both keep finding reasons to scoot closer together, a thick layer of tension between you. You’d each talked a big game when sharing fantasies about what your first time might be like but now that it might be here, you’re surprised by the hazy combination of excitement and nerves you feel.

It’s hard to say who makes the first move: there’s a lull in the conversation and then suddenly, a kiss. Ashton’s hands quickly make their way into your hair and before long, things get heated and you find yourself climbing into his lap to straddle him. This was about as far as things had gotten between you pre-quarantine and it’s as glorious as you remember.

You roll your hips above him and he groans into the mark he was leaving on your neck; your shirt rides up with your movements and his fingers softly dance over the exposed skin. As you nibble along his jaw, his hands find their way up the back of your shirt and you shiver at his warmth. You put your hands on his wrists, guiding them up, letting him know it’s OK to take your shirt off; he does and you silently thank your past self for wearing one of your pretty bras tonight.

“So beautiful, baby,” he breathes and then his mouth is back on yours, hands busy exploring the new skin on display for him. You shift your hips again and this time find yourself the one to groan, feeling him hard beneath you for the first time; you’ve spent a lot of time wondering what this would feel like and it’s more intoxicating than you ever could’ve imagined.

Ash lifts you off his lap and lays you back on the couch, peeling his own shirt off before moving to be on top of you. He kisses you hungrily and then makes his way down your body, the scratch of his beard deliciously teasing you, lips pecking over every inch of your neck before they attach to the tops of your breasts.

You pull him back up to your mouth and slide your hands down to unbuckle his belt. You brush over his length through his jeans and nearly gasp at the contact; you know he’s not even fully hard and he feels huge. This revelation has you getting impatient and you attempt to push his pants down. "Jesus dude, are these painted on or what?" You joke, struggling.

"Hey, I could ask you the same thing," he retorts, running his hands along your ass to prove his point. With a goofy smile, he asks, "Should we pause and de-pants ourselves?"

You laugh as you untangle yourself from his body and pull your pants off while he does the same. He eyes your matching lace lingerie and teases, "That’s some mighty fancy underwear you've got on there, Miss ‘Let’s Take The Pressure Off And Not Expect Anything To Happen Tomorrow Night’.”

You feel your cheeks warming at both his gawking attention and his implication you were hoping things would end up this way. You playfully fire back, "Maybe I dress like this all the time, you don't know me… or maybe I wanted to feel sexy for myself tonight." You try to pull him into a kiss but he pulls back, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. "Or maybe I'm really behind on laundry and I only have the nice stuff left," you say with a sheepish giggle.

“That I believe,” he laughs delightedly. "Whatever the reason, you look fucking incredible.”

You intend to murmur a thanks but the way his kisses are currently being peppered in between your breasts causes it to come out as a moan instead. His fingers toy with the closure of your bra and he looks at you to softly ask, “May I?”

You nod enthusiastically and close your eyes as his mouth acquaints itself with your bare breasts, your hands tangling in his hair. Your mouths find each other again, tongues familiarizing themselves with every detail of each other. You reach between your bodies and grip the tent in his underwear; you trace the shape of him through the material and he breaks your kiss to let out a strained moan. “God, I can’t wait to make you cum,” you murmur, a bit surprised by your own boldness.

You feel Ash breathe deeply, affected by your words. “Well, I’m afraid I have a strict ‘ladies first’ policy in this house, so I clearly need to get started,” he jokes, attempting to steady himself. “Bedroom?”

He helps you off the couch and you start to reach for your discarded clothes but he pulls you along, shaking his head. “You won’t be needing those for a while,” he grins.

You follow him to his room, impressing yourself with how steady on your feet you are, how calm you feel; your heart is racing but it’s from anticipation instead of uncertainty, which is unusual for you when you’re about to sleep with someone new. You tend to make these decisions impulsively, with a bit of a “fuck now, ask questions later” attitude. The fact that you’ve waited for this long to be with him and that you feel totally at ease, wandering through his upstairs hallway in just your panties, is the latest in a series of signs telling you that your feelings for Ashton are different.

You settle on the bed while he pauses in the doorway, fiddling with the dimmer on the light switch, determined to get it just right. He finally comes over and you don’t waste any time, climbing over to the edge of the bed to pull off his boxers. His cock springs free and you bite your lip, hoping you’re not actually drooling like you fear you might be.

“You good?” He goads you with a smug smile. During a couple of your video romps, you’d gotten yourself off with toys and he teased you about your selections, calling you a size queen. As you find yourself fascinated surveying the notable length and girth in front of you, you have to admit, he’s not wrong.

You silence his remarks by leaning forward and tentatively licking his tip, closing your eyes in satisfaction when you taste a drop of precum. You roll your tongue around the head, tracing every curve and ridge with your tongue. When you get comfortable enough to wrap your lips around him and slowly start taking him into your mouth, he quietly breathes your name, brushing your hair out of your face, and you feel like you could cum right then and there.

He senses your eagerness and lets you work for a bit longer before he gently pulls you off with a heavy sigh. "Ladies first, remember?" He rasps, flashing you a dazzling smile that would've made you weak even if he wasn't naked in front of you.

He gestures for you to lay back as he kneels at the edge of the bed, dragging his beard across your thighs before hooking his thumbs in your panties to slowly pull them off. You close your eyes, a blissful, close-mouthed smile decorating your face. Ash groans, gazing up at you. “Do you have any idea how many times I laid in this bed picturing what it’d be like to have you here like this?” He asks, raising himself up to kiss you passionately. “Better than I ever could’ve imagined.”

His lips travel back down your body and you’re so caught up in how dreamy it is to finally feel him like this, you don’t notice he’s already made it back down your body and you cry out when his tongue licks a bold stripe up your center. You’re almost certain you feel him smile against you, proud of the reaction he’s achieved.

You run your hands through his long hair, trying your best not to tug at it too much, although you suspect he might enjoy that. He alternates between soft, fluttering licks at you and long, intentional strokes, using every centimeter of his wide tongue. It’s overwhelming but you breathe deeply, trying to maintain control; it’s when he wraps his lips around your clit and starts sucking that you start writhing, your legs involuntarily closing in around his head and you tap at him to get his attention.

He immediately pulls back. “Too much?” He reassuringly squeezes your ankle, looking at you encouragingly. “Tell me what you need, sweetheart, wanna do what I can to make you feel good.”

You sit up on your arms, lightheaded from both pleasure and his care. “Ash, oh my god, it feels amazing,” you insist, reaching out to brush his hair out of his eyes. “I just… I really wanna cum with you in me... and I can’t always go for two… and it was feeling so good right now…”

Ashton leans up, pausing your nervous rambling with a sweet kiss. “Hey, it’s all good, I’m glad you told me,” he soothes. “Do you want to go ahead or do you need more time? We can do something else to get you ready. Your call.”

You grin and guide his hand to run along your wet folds. “I think this qualifies as ready, don’t you?”

“Alright, cheeky girl,” he teases, casually lifting his fingers from your wetness to his mouth, tasting you on them. “Still, there’s lube in the left nightstand if you want to get it out just in case.”

“Gentlemanly offer and a brag at the same time, I’m into it,” you laugh.

He giggles loudly, moving off the bed. “Gotta grab the condoms,” he explains, leaving the room.

You retrieve the bottle of lube like he suggested and tidy the bed up a little bit, adjusting the pillows to make yourself comfortable. He’s gone for what feels like a long time but you chalk it up to your excitement for what’s about to happen. You sit back, surveying the room, making mental notes about different things you want to ask him about later. Finally, you hear him call your name from down the hall and you curiously holler back at him.

He pops his head in the room, looking mildly panicked. “Please tell me you saw a box of condoms in the groceries you put away,” he inquires breathlessly.

Your heart sinks. “Um… no? I didn’t,” you take a steadying breath, bracing yourself for what seems like very bad news. “It was mostly food. And the napkins we used. Toothpaste I put in the bathroom. No condoms.”

Ash inhales sharply, nodding rapidly, which unsettles you; he comes to sit on the edge of the bed and drags his hands over his face and through his hair. “Well. This is just never gonna fucking happen, I guess,” he declares dramatically. You feel weirdly exposed now that the mood has shifted and you reach for a blanket to cover yourself with before you crawl over to him.

You rest your head on his shoulder, letting him know you’re there. He smiles sadly and strokes over your hair. “I’m so sorry, baby. I hadn’t dated in a while and then with lockdown… I didn’t know until yesterday what I had was expired so I tossed them and ordered some today… and they’re just… not here,” he says regretfully.

You chew your lip, evaluating how you should respond; you’re disappointed, obviously - very disappointed - but Ashton is clearly upset with himself and you don’t want to make him feel any worse. “I suppose it’d be irresponsible of me to suggest we ignore this road block by employing the old ‘spray and pray’ method?” You joke… at least you think you’re joking.

He snorts, turning to look at you with a smile on his face, which makes you feel better about things. “I’m sure you’re not serious but no, after all this time, after we finally had the perfect date, no, I’m not going to pull out and ‘spray and pray,’ he chuckles.

You smile back at him. “Well,” you start flirtatiously, “I meant it when I said I couldn’t wait to make you cum.” Your fingers dance along his bare thigh, travelling close to his softened cock. “We can still fool around, if you want.”

He looks at you fondly, squeezing your hand on his leg. “I really don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“Ash, as sweet as you are, this is an entirely selfish act on my part, I really just want you to moan for me,” you smirk, moving to sit back against the pillows. “Plus this is possibly the most turned on I’ve ever been and if I don’t get off soon, I might actually die.”

Grinning, he crawls up the bed and settles in next to you. “Well. Can’t have that, now can we?” He teases in a low voice, kissing you with an intoxicating restraint. “Got anything particular in mind?” He feels you sigh against him as he gets his mouth on your neck and his hand on your breast.

It takes you a second to find your voice again, still getting used to the novelty of being able to feel his touch. “To be honest, I wouldn’t mind getting my mouth back on you,” you confess with heavy breath. “Or we could just, you know, play with each other.” You slide your hand down to find his cock, lightly rubbing your fingertips up and down his shaft, feeling it start to rise for you again.

Ash groans and throws his arm around your shoulders, turning so that you’re cradled into his side. Your hand lazily drags over his length while he holds you, kissing you with a renewed intensity. The arm around you softly massages your shoulder while his free arm is exploring your body: palming your breasts, twirling your nipples, fingers caressing the rise and fall of your tummy.

He breaks the kiss as his hand makes its way between your legs, tentatively brushing along your inner thigh, watching you closely as his fingers move to trace your lips and then your folds. He swirls through your wetness and then gently starts rubbing your clit; your hand instantly stills on him and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“This feel alright?” He asks, studying your face.

You take your free hand and place it on his, encouraging him to apply more pressure. “So good, Ash,” you murmur, raising your mouth to his again, eager to have his affection completely enveloping you.

You resume your motion on his cock, stroking him firmly, listening for the hitches in his breath or gentle grunts to tell you that your instincts of how to please him are correct. You try to recall what you can from the months you spent watching him touch himself online; you vividly remember him twisting over the tip while he used his other hand to cradle his balls. You give it a try and he lets out a loud moan, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

The two of you familiarize yourselves with each other’s bodies, savoring the noises you’re pulling from each other because although it’s not the first time you’ve ever heard them, it’s the first time they’re being caused by you.

Ashton’s fingers tease along your entrance and you can’t breathe out a “Please” fast enough; he slides two fingers inside and starts thrusting. He starts with a moderate pace but you’re so worked up, you’re bucking against his hand almost immediately, overwhelmed at the thought of some part of him finally inside you.

You try your best to keep jerking him off but it’d be an understatement to say you’ve become distracted as his fingers move in you; you whisper an apology as you let go of him, starting to lose control, digging your nails into his bicep, whining at how you can feel it flex from the way he’s working your body.

Ash can’t get enough of how receptive you are to him so when you mutter out another “Sorry” upon realizing how red the skin around his snake tattoo is from you holding on to him, he squeezes your shoulder in reassurance. “Listen, you can scratch that thing clean off if it means I’m making you feel that good,” he teases, nipping at your neck. “Are you as close as it sounds like you are?”

You’re sure your cheeks must already be flushed but you still feel them warm up at the implication that he recognizes your noises from quarantine. You nod, chest heaving, trying to catch your breath.

"Do you need something different to help you finish or keep this up?" He asks, understanding in his eyes.

You groan and jump as his fingers hit your spot again. "Um, actually I think I’d like if you went back to just my clit."

He nods, following your instructions. He rubs careful circles, checking your face to see if he’s getting the pressure right. You start to tuck your face into Ashton’s chest to minimize your reactions but he tenderly pulls you back to lay with him, stroking his hand through your hair to soothe you as he feels you start to shake in his arms. “God, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful like this,” he praises, sucking below your ear. “Let me hear you, baby, you always sound so good when you cum for me.”

His raspy affirmations work in perfect tandem with the vigorous movement of his fingers and you begin to unravel. You breathily cry out his name as your back rises off the bed and your hands fly out on either side of you, one gripping the sheets, the other grabbing for his arm again.

Your hips buck, riding the waves of pleasure surging through your body. Ash watches you carefully, continuing to work you until he detects a slight wince of overstimulation and he removes his hand, deciding to kiss you through the rest of your orgasm.

Your body finally relaxes and while you’re definitely exhausted, you’re also eager to satisfy him in return. While he presses kisses over your face, whispering quiet praises as you settle, your hands move to explore his body again, one caressing at his chest and abs, the other taking hold of his cock, making good use of the precum he released while playing with you, starting to build momentum again.

He groans, closing his eyes, losing himself in your touch. You can't resist shifting slightly to travel down his body, pecking your way down his stomach, nibbling at his hips before moving your lips back to his cock. You suckle at the head and the throaty "Baby" you receive in return is already worth your trouble.

Ashton traces designs on your back while you suck him off; he constantly murmurs encouragement, which you appreciate because your heart is racing, this is the first time tonight you've felt truly nervous. You've always enjoyed giving head but you've fantasized about blowing Ash for so long you were slightly afraid it might not live up to expectations - for the both of you, since you'd shared many fantasies with him.

You try to pace yourself, not wanting to get greedy and take too much at once, using your hand to make up for what your mouth can't handle yet; every time you pull off to catch your breath and check in with him, he sweetly wipes at your mouth with his thumb and it's much cuter than it should be, considering the situation.

You bob along his shaft a few more times, fluttering your tongue along the underside, finding a particular vein you remember him paying special attention to. Your memory serves you correct and he emits a surprised whimper. He squeezes your shoulder a few times and you pull off curiously.

"Want your mouth on mine when I cum," he rasps.

You quickly reclaim your place laying in his arms, kissing him as requested. It’s just a few tugs until his breathing starts to stutter against your lips. "Fuck, yes, cum for me, Ash," you murmur, letting out a little moan yourself when you feel his cock throb in your hold.

Ash huffs out short belabored breaths as he moves his hand down to join yours, showing you how to work through his orgasm, adjusting slightly so that his cum shoots on to his own stomach instead of yours.

You lightly kiss him through it until he pulls your hand off of him, lacing his fingers in yours, squeezing briefly. You lay back in his arms, basking in the intimacy of the moment.

He pecks your forehead before he regrettably pulls away from you to gesture towards the tissue box on the bedside table. “Would you mind?”

You start to reach for it and then pause, deciding you’re comfortable enough to make a request. “Actually… could I…?” You trail off, raising your eyebrows as you steal a glance at his torso.

Ashton chuckles out a surprised “OK” and then you’re quickly shuffling down his body to get your mouth on his cum covered skin. He breathes in sharply when he feels your warm breath on him and his stomach flutters under your tongue as you clean him up, blissfully humming as you discover his taste.

Your hair falls in your face and he brushes it out of the way, not wanting to miss a second of what you’re doing. When you’re finished, you sit up and daintily wipe your mouth with your fingertips. You catch a glimpse of Ash looking downright dazed, chest still heaving from his orgasm, eyes glazed over from watching you eagerly volunteer to lick up his release.

With the heat of the moment having passed, you start feeling slightly self-conscious about your boldness. “Was that over the top? I feel like that was too much for a first time, oh my god,” you laugh, hands covering your face nervously. “I just… on our calls, every time I would watch you cum, I would just… think about it…” You shake your head, surprised at your own behavior.

He laughs and reaches for you, kissing the top of your head as you lay against him. "Just the right amount of 'too much', trust me." His voice gets deeper as he leans in to whisper, “I’d thought about it too, for the record. As fuckin’ hot as I’d thought it’d be.”

You lay quietly wrapped up in him for a bit longer and when you move to get out of bed, he grabs your hand, squeezing it gently. “D’ya wanna stay tonight?” He asks, hazel eyes swimming with sweetness and sincerity. “I didn’t want to jinx it and get stuff for breakfast but I was thinking we could order in.”

You smile brightly, leaning in to peck his lips. “You can finally make me your famous coffee you’re always bragging about,” you tease.

“It’s disgusting, you’ll love it,” he grins, playfully pinching your ass as you get out of bed.

The next morning you wake up to the feeling of Ash climbing back into bed beside you. You open one eye and look him up and down suspiciously. “Where have you been?” You murmur.

He settles on his side, pulling you closer to him so your faces are inches from each other, at the edge of your respective pillows. “Ordered breakfast already, had to go unlock the front gate,” he explains, voice still thick with sleep. He strokes your hair and smiles at how you close your eyes, melting into his touch. “Sleep OK, baby?”

You feel your lips curl into a dreamy smile; you already knew you loved hearing him call you that but hearing it in his deep morning voice is fucking transcendent. “To be honest, it’s been so long since I slept next to someone, I wasn’t sure how it was gonna go at first,” you laugh, scooting closer. “You’re warm, though, which was nice.”

“Well at least I have that going for me,” he jokes with a mock pout, which you promptly move in to kiss right off his face. You enjoy a sleepy, slow makeout for a few minutes and then he pulls away.

He takes a deep breath before quietly saying, “Hey… I wanted to apologize for how I acted last night with the whole condom thing. I just got so frustrated because it seemed like we’d finally gotten it right… but that kind of negativity has no place in our relationship. Especially in a situation like that where you were feeling disappointed and vulnerable as well. So I’m sorry.”

“Ash,” you whisper softly. You take in the sight of him: long, dark curls darting out every which way from sleeping, scruffy beard you’re still certain he grew just for you, lips swollen from your kisses. His eyes are gorgeous as always but you can see the concern and remorse behind them and you feel like you can’t put him at ease soon enough. “You don’t have to apologize, it was disappointing and you don’t have to be Mr. Positivity 24/7 if you don’t feel like it. Not for me. I’d rather know how you’re really feeling.”

“I guess I thought this would be easier. We’ve had so long to think about being together and to plan for it and it’s just been a constant let down,” he admits.

You chew your lip. “Well, listen. Last night still worked out? We still got to be intimate, I still got to experience waking up next to you. Sort of,” you tease. He cracks a smile and you couldn’t be more thankful. “But what you just said, maybe that’s part of the problem. Maybe because we had so much time to think about this, maybe we’ve built it up too much in our minds and we’re just setting ourselves up to be disappointed.”

He nods, mulling over your words. “Like the fantasy was important during lockdown but now it’s tripping us up. If we were in more normal circumstances, we would’ve just slept together without much thought.”

“You really think your game’s that good?” You joke and he pinches you in response. “You’re right, though, I haven’t thought this much about a first time since I was a virgin.”

“So we need to find a middle ground between this idealization we’ve invented and doing it just to get it over with,” he suggests.

“Exactly,” you peck his lips in encouragement. “At the end of the day, it’s just sex. I’ve been looking forward to being with you, not to some super romantic, candlelit lovemaking experience at the end of a dream date.” “Whenever it happens, it’ll be perfect because we’re perfect,” he smiles.

The two of you carry that mentality with you throughout the next couple weeks. You hang out, go on a couple dates and even end up having a spontaneous video sex session like old times. You still burn with desire nearly every time he’s near you but removing that looming pressure to set the mood really does help put you at ease with each other. You feel more connected than ever, like you’re able to focus on him now instead of the experience.

“The drive-ins are opened back up now,” Ashton mentions during your afternoon call. “Think you might wanna catch a movie tonight?”

“God, remember movies? That could be fun,” you agree.

“A buddy of mine went last weekend, opened up the hatchback, put a bunch of pillows down, made it nice and cozy. Thought I might ask if I could borrow his car… we could have a little picnic back there before the movie,” he proposes.

You smile to yourself, loving how excited he gets planning dates. “Better bring your comfiest hoodie for me to steal, we’re gonna get fuckin’ snuggly.”

Ash loves a good reveal so when he picks you up, he’s sure to walk you around the front of the car so you don’t peek in the back of the mini SUV. You have fun teasing him on the way there, adjusting the mirrors, exaggeratedly acting like you’re glancing over your shoulder; watching his eyes go wide and hearing his stern “Hey!” simply never gets old.

Amused as he is by your game, Ashton knows how to tease you right back and when you arrive at the drive-in, before he gets out of the car to finish setting up, he offers you a kiss and a quiet warning of “Be good” that basically guarantees you’ll stay in your seat until he says otherwise.

After a few minutes, he finally calls you back there and you’re blown away at the elaborate transformation. He pops the hatchback up to reveal the back rows of seats have all been laid flat and a thin layer of memory foam lays across them, covered by piles and piles of blankets. Pillows of every shape and size adorn the setup, along with a small cooler and a tote of movie snacks. In the center of the makeshift bed is the pizza you picked up for dinner and two champagne flutes filled with your favorite soda.

“Ash,” you coo as you climb into the back of the car. “This is so fucking cute? You said your friend put some pillows down, not made an entire love nest back here.”

“Well, I may have embellished a little,” he chuckles modestly, following you inside. “One of our first hang outs was at a movie, so I thought our grand return should be special.”

You grin as you serve pizza onto each of your plates. “That feels like that was a thousand years ago but I still remember the chill that ran down my spine every time you leaned over the armrest to whisper some comment about the movie.”

“Yeah? I remember being nervous because I couldn’t tell if you were aroused or annoyed, to be honest,” he laughs.

“Oh it was definitely both at first. You talked a lot and I didn’t pay LA ticket prices to hear your commentary track,” you giggle, playfully shoving his shoulder as his jaw drops. “But then I decided I really liked how it felt to have you pay attention to me.”

“And of course what I was saying was clever and enlightening and added to your cinematic experience,” he adds on with a smirk.

You give him a tight-lipped smile, raising your eyebrows in exaggeratedly mocking agreement. He flicks your leg in response and you yelp, unable to keep from smiling at him. The two of you continue reminiscing and making easy conversation while you devour your pizza dinner. By the time you’re done, the sun is setting.

You lay back on the pillows you’ve propped up and watch intently as Ash gets rid of the pizza box at a nearby trash can. You’d both agreed that the dress code for tonight was ‘comfort’ and he went with a black t-shirt and an endearingly bizarre pair of lounge pants that feature a mountain landscape illustrated across the legs. Unsurprisingly, the t-shirt hugs his chest and biceps, drawing attention to the tattoos up and down his arms that you haven’t been able to keep your hands off of. What is surprising is how the loose pants still cling to his body in all the right ways - pulling across his thick thighs and ass, making you wonder if he’s keeping things in his pockets or if the bulging in front you’re seeing is all him. You squeeze your legs together, pleased that he’s almost back at the car, eager to feel him, even if it’s just for a snugged up movie date.

He flashes you a dazzling smile as he walks up to the car. “What’s got you all dreamy-eyed?” He teases, settling in next to you. You feel your breath hitch as he comfortably rests his hand on your bare thigh, toying with the hem of your lounge shorts, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Just happy to be here,” you shrug, leaning over to peck his bearded cheek.

He hums at your affection, leaning his head on your shoulder as he fiddles with his phone, pulling up a radio app so he can tune to the station that will be broadcasting the audio for your screen. “It’s kind of a deadzone out there, there’s only maybe 5 other cars,” he reports, reaching behind you to make sure the bluetooth speaker he’s connected to is on. “Even with all the distancing, we probably didn’t need to park all the way back here.”

“I like it… Gives the illusion you rented out the place just for me, makes me feel special,” you joke. He giggles and kisses your shoulder.

The first movie of your double feature starts a few minutes later and you couldn’t possibly enjoy it more. The two of you trade jokes and snacks; it’s all just so comfortable and lovely, unfiltered and natural.

During the intermission, you decide to get out and stretch a bit before the second film starts. You notice that when you feel Ashton’s eyes poring over you as you bend and twist, you only feel pride and desire, none of the nervousness or timidity you’d felt a few weeks ago.

Once the movie starts, you sit and try to patiently wait and see if he’s going to make a move but by the time the opening credits are over, you can’t help but advance things yourself. You scoot closer but his eyes remain trained on the screen; you decide to more explicitly ask for his attention by nuzzling your face into his neck, pressing a few light kisses behind his ear, scratching his beard with your nails. “I’m having a good time,” you whisper, feeling him grin under your touch. “This was such a great idea, I’m happy you suggested it.”

He slinks his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “I’m so glad you like it,” he beams at you. “It’s fun to be out in the world again but also still pretty much alone.”

“Alone enough to do this,” you lilt, leaning in to plant your lips on his. Your kiss is gentle but urgent and he reciprocates your energy, cupping your face with one hand and using the other to press you against him, murmuring when you slide your tongue into his mouth. Just when things start to get heated, one of you pulls back and warmly smiles at the other, as if you’re both excited for more but still wanting to appreciate what’s happening in this moment.

You don’t want to disrupt the makeout but you can’t fight the craving you have to feel more of him; you’re finally able to pull yourself away and you lay down on the bed, patting the spot next to you in what you hope is an alluring manner.

He moves closer and you close your eyes, ready to feel his touch. You’re startled to instead hear a grunt of frustration and the shifting of a leather seat. Your eyes snap open and you see him straining to reach into the front seat, trying to reach the keys in the ignition. You’re half a second away from asking what the hell he’s doing when you hear a distant beep and the hatchback slowly begins to close at the end of the cabin.

He plops himself on the pillow next to you. “Thought we could use a little more privacy,” he explains, grabbing a handful of your ass and using it to pull you closer. “Just in case someone else out there thinks the movie is as boring as we did.”

You start to giggle at his remark but your laughter is interrupted by his lips returning to yours. You both let your mouths and hands do as they please, exploring and enjoying without hesitation and without expectation. You’ve just peeled off his shirt and are sucking a mark at his collarbone when you feel his hand slip up your shirt to palm your breast. You give a light bite to his skin as his fingers pull at your nipple; he groans as you breathily tell him, “You can do it harder.”

A few dozen kisses later, his hand is sliding down your stomach and past the waistband of your shorts. You pull out of his kiss to whine quietly as his long fingers brush through your wetness, only touching your clit incidentally before adding light pressure.

“Good?” Ashton checks with a smile as your head lulls back and you grab onto him.

“Oh, you know… ‘s alright I guess,” you joke, your attempt at being casual undermined by the way you’re basically grinding into his hand. You let out a long moan and he quickly brings his mouth back down to yours in an attempt to silence it.

As his fingers and lips drive you wild, you find your own hands reaching for his pants and you sigh into his mouth when you feel his cock hard and ready for you. You run your fingers across the straining fabric, teasing him with one hand while the other works to loosen the drawstring.

You dip your hand inside and grip his cock, choking back a moan when you feel how much he’s already leaked for you. The slickness helps you easily begin stroking him and you shift so you can study his face, wanting to see evidence of the pleasure you’re giving him. As your thumb swipes over his tip and your fingers firmly squeeze his length, Ash’s eyes flutter shut and he bites his lip, quietly muttering your name under his breath.

His fingers slip inside you and you gasp as pumps them in and out, dragging them against your walls, teasing your spot. It’s an intense moment when your eyes lock as his fingers work inside of you while yours glide up and down his cock, the two of you breathing heavy as you basically fuck each other without fucking.

“Ash…” You start, voice wavering.

“Yeah,” he answers in strained agreement. “Do you want --”

“Yes, yes I do. I brought --”

“So did I.”

You break apart from each other and reach for your belongings, chuckling as he pulls a handful of condoms from his backpack and tosses them onto the bed at the same time you pull some from your purse and add them to the pile.

“Well it’s good to know we’re both the kind of people who can learn from their mistakes,” he laughs, pulling you into a delighted kiss.

An exciting energy fills the car as you both shift around, getting yourselves situated. Ashton pulls back a layer of blankets from the seats in case you want to cover up and bursts out laughing when he turns around to see you’ve already stripped off your shorts and panties and are sitting there pantsless and unbothered.

“We’re parked in the back, there’s barely anyone here and the windows are fogged up,” you shrug, grinning.

You find yourself captivated as you watch him kick his pants off and get up on his knees, wrapping a hand around his cock, pumping it a few times before rolling a condom on. This is really happening. Finally, really happening.

“C’mere,” he breathes, reaching for you. You crawl to him and he cradles your face, kissing you softly. You nibble at his lip as you pull away and the two of you can’t stop smiling.

You climb into his lap, sitting on his legs, staring into his eyes. “Ready?” He asks you, sweetly rubbing your thighs.

You nod eagerly and lift yourself up to hover over his cock. He slicks the tip through your folds, stopping to tease over your clit a few times and then he’s watching your face as he presses against your entrance.

Your mouth drops open as you start to take him. He's so thick the stretch is instant, breathtaking and everything you've been dreaming of. His fingers gingerly brush over your hip, encouraging you as you ease him further inside you, rocking up and down until you're impossibly full.

Ash wraps his arms around you, kissing you deeply, hands in your hair then running down your back, then squeezing your ass. You feel completely surrounded by him and it’s overwhelming in the best way. You break the kiss to quickly peel your t-shirt off and then you’re reattaching your lips to his, pressing your chest against his, needing to feel as much of his skin on yours as you possibly can.

“Yes, baby, fuck” he murmurs as you slowly begin to move on his cock. “Feel so fuckin’ perfect… better than I’ve been imagining.”

You respond with a series of whimpers, so caught up in the feeling of finally having him in you. You move cautiously, almost torturously slow until you adjust to his size and then you pick up the pace, his hands firmly gripping your ass, helping you along.

You don’t even have the end goal of an orgasm in mind, you just can’t get enough of the new sensations his cock is making you feel. You shift from rocking to bouncing on him, moaning loudly each time his length hits a new place inside you.

“Ash… your cock feels so fucking good,” you pant, riding him with increasing speed, losing yourself in it. “Can’t believe you’re finally filling me up, baby… fuck.”

Your movements are bordering on frantic when you feel Ashton lightly squeeze your hips, attempting to still them, gently breathing your name. You slow down and look at him inquisitively. The mixture of amusement, desire and warmth painting his face is enough to make your pounding heart skip a beat.

“Can I?” He softly asks. You nod and he carefully pulls out of you and lays you back against the pillows before settling over you. He pecks over your neck and face as he guides himself back inside you. “Think we owe it to ourselves to slow down and live in this for a while.”

He starts to push up so he can get to work but you stop him, tucking his long hair behind his ear, stroking your hand over his beard. “You’re right, just feels so good,” you grin. “Hard not to get carried away.”

Ashton kisses over your palm and begins leisurely moving his hips. He keeps a moderate pace, steady enough that you’re feeling consistent pleasure, feeling something building in your core, but not so hurried that you’re aching to reach the finish line. You hook your leg around his hip and when he pushes it slightly back towards you, he slides in deeper and his groan blends with yours to form possibly the most gorgeous sound you’ve ever heard.

“Jesus, baby… pussy’s takin’ me so well,” he praises, voice sounding more wrecked than you expected. “Such a pretty, giving pussy, baby… what a good girl.”

You shiver at his words, your hands running up and down his back, feeling his muscles flex as he moves above you; you slide your hands down to grab his ass, pulling him closer, willing him even deeper. Ash reaches between your bodies to find your clit, teasing it with just the right amount of pressure to make you moan. The snap of his hips has become slightly quicker and you can tell by his breathing that he’s getting close.

“Ash… so good, yes,” you mumble, reaching down to direct his hand in the pattern you need. He mimics your movements expertly and you start rocking your hips along with him, feeling the stirrings of your climax. “Fuck, like that… god, please.”

“Yeah?” He pants, watching your body start to tense. He takes his free hand and reaches for yours, lacing your fingers, squeezing encouragingly. “Been waiting so long to feel you cum around my cock… come on, baby, cum.”

The first pulse of your orgasm hits you so forcefully you’re shocked he doesn’t react to how hard you squeeze his hand. By the time the next one hits, you’re crying out in senseless mutters from how heavenly this moment feels, how his thick cock couldn’t fit more perfectly inside you as you tighten around it. The sensations feel like they might echo forever as you start to come back down, Ash continuing to move gently in you, reassuring you in a soft voice about how incredible you feel around him.

You pull him down to kiss him breathlessly, satisfied from your orgasm but still hungry for his affection, still needing him on you. “Want you to cum for me, babe,” you whisper. “Let me know how much you love being buried in this pussy.”

Your words drive Ashton’s thrusts to become frenzied as he growls your name, followed by a raspy string of curses. He lets out a deep groan as he fills the condom, rocking into you deep and slow as he works through his climax. His head drops to burrow into your neck and you shiver at how his beard prickles your overstimulated skin. You stroke through his curls, lightly damp with sweat, and whisper in his ear, “So good, Ash… so fuckin’ good.”

He plants an exhausted but sweet kiss on you, only breaking it for you both to whine as he pulls out of you; he carefully ties off the condom while you reach for some of the leftover napkins from dinner to clean yourself up. You sort through each other’s clothes, the two of you grinning like fools the entire time you’re getting dressed.

Ash leans back against the pillows and sighs loudly, gesturing for you to come lay with him. You crawl toward him, making a small detour over the front seat to press the release on the hatchback again. You settle against him as the door opens, the cool night air filling the car again, the long forgotten movie still being projected in the distance.

“Worth the wait?” You tease, giving him a toothy smile.

He holds you tight to his chest. “Fuckin’ hell, baby… as much as we built it up, think we still might’ve undersold it. Like. Goddamn.”

You hum in agreement, closing your eyes, enjoying the afterglow. “I’m glad we just kind of let it happen. That’s probably the best first time I’ve ever had. Definitely the most comfortable.”

“Same. Easy but still just… perfect,” he says dreamily.

You play with his fingers, chuckling, “I was so comfortable I almost asked you to cum on me until I remembered we were fucking in your friend’s car.”

“I mean, it was already questionable for us to have gotten fully naked in his car, we might as well have gone all out,” Ashton laughs loudly, squeezing your hand. “I think Cal had a suspicion this might happen, he left breath mints, condoms and Clorox wipes in the glove compartment.”

You cackle. “No blacklight, though?”

He pinches your leg and leans in to drown your laughter with a kiss. You gaze at him for a beat, marvelling at how normal everything feels for once. You notice he’s looking at you with a familiar fire in his eyes and you swear even though you were naked with him just a few minutes ago, you actually feel butterflies in your stomach.

You raise your eyebrows at him expectantly and Ash smirks. “Was just thinkin’ it’s for the best anyways. The first time I cover you in cum I don’t want it to be in a dark backseat, I want to be able to see it.”

You quietly groan, a naughty glint in your eye to match his. You sit up and plant a heated kiss on him, pulling away to murmur, “Well. It’s still early… my place or yours?”

————-

Thank you to everyone who signed up for my new taglist, both for the support and the lovely (occasionally hilarious) feedback! If you haven’t signed up yet, the form is linked above! (If your name is crossed out, please check your blog settings, I was unable to tag you)

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#5sos smut #5 seconds of summer smut #Ashton irwin smut #Ashton irwin fic #ashton smut #Kindahoping4forever #kh4f fic #Ready For It?#smut #i literally cannot believe i am finally done with this lmao #thank you to anyone who has been holding out hope you would see this tension resolved #i hope i made the wait (for them and for you) worth it #Feedback is appreciated #Fr pls let me know what you think either via ask or your reblog tags #Reblogs are gold and reblogs with tags makes you yourself golden #idk what i'm saying formatting this took forever i really need to start writing shorter pieces or using less italics smh #love y'all thanks for reading

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bratkook · 4 years

Text

corrupt. jjk (m)

You’d be crying out in pain begging me to play my games. I could corrupt you, it would be ugly.

pairing: vampire!jk x human!reader genre: smut, pwp warnings: blood play, unprotected sex, dirty talk, exhibitionism, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, spanking, oral (f. receiving), partially clothed sex word count: 5k author’s note: literally everything i write is based on a song so listen to Corrupt by Depeche Mode. This also came to mind because my boss and i are obsessed with the idea of going to a sex club in berlin so i hope you enjoy lol. leave feedback or shoot me a message tysm ily bye. this also isnt edited yet im sorry

Standing in the middle of a dimly lit club in the heart of Berlin, the sound of a german band filling up the space all around you, is not how you thought your night would go.

Utterly alone, shimmying through the crowd of people all scantily clad in forms of leather or lace, some wearing nothing at all. No one seemed to mind you, no one gave you a second glance. The leather body harness you had on stuck to your body like second skin, the straps of it stretched across your breasts and covered your nipples. The only thing on your bottom half was a garter belt, a tiny pair of black underwear and fishnet stockings, finished off with some black heels.

You had begged your friend to come with you, being in the middle of your trip across Europe you wanted to visit the infamous sex club while in Berlin but she had been so against it. Not only was this club notorious for having orgies in the middle of the venue, which she thought was unspeakable, it was also a common hot spot for vampires as well, another taboo for her.

When she told you no you knew it was final so you didn’t mention it again. Instead you got dressed up in the bathroom of your airbnb, draped on a peacoat and headed out without a word. Luckily the club had coat check or else you’d feel entirely over dressed.

This club, unlike other vampire friendly ones you’ve visited, let everyone mingle together. You were accustomed to having dedicated rooms for humans, another for vampires, and a common ground for those who didn’t mind being together. But here it was a giant melting pot of both.

In the short ten minutes you’ve been here you had lost count of how many scarlet eyes you’d seen staring down at you, how many touches of cold skin you’d felt as you slipped by people, you felt very outnumbered and a little vulnerable but it sent a spark of excitement down your spine.

When you reach the bar, your arms press against the slightly tacky surface, a blonde with gleaming golden eyes greets you with a smile, “What’ll you have sweet heart?”

You strain your ears to hear her but try your best to tell her you’d just like a shot of tequila, she has no problem hearing your request, spinning around to grab the tequila from behind her.

Just as you start to ease up to being where you are, the feeling of someone slipping in beside you has you tensing up again. You keep your gaze on the bartender, watching her pour out your shot before sliding it over.

When you reach into the hem of your tights to pull out some cash she waves you off, “Its your first time here, consider it a welcoming gift.” She winks at you and moves on to the next thirsty guest before you can thank her.

You can sense the eyes boring into you from your right, your fingers gripping the edge of the shot glass as you lift it up to your lips. The curious observer just watches with a smirk as you throw back the shot, shutting your eyes as the warm liquid runs down your throat.

When you set the glass down and lick your lips over they finally speak, “First timer huh?”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up at his voice, the low gravel of it swimming through your ears and getting your full attention. Its melodic, something about it has you turning to him like he had just said something ground breaking, and when you see who the voice belongs to you let out a small shudder.

The dark red of his eyes seems to glow in between the random flashes of light, his eyebrow arched up in curiosity as you drink him in. The hair on his head, parted to the side and showing the sharp eyebrows that frame his eyes, is an inky shade, the tips of the strands landing on his forehead.

He lets you take your time, watching you make your way down his face, reaching his soft lips, parted in a half smile that showcased the sharp fangs where your incisors are. The action should be threatening but all you can think of is having them sink into your skin.

The way he’s dressed is more modest than others, a sheer black mesh shirt hugging his chest, showing off the indents of muscles from how tight the material was. A harness similar to your own sits snuggly against his waist, the leather material matching that of his pants.

You snap out of it when you realize you’ve been staring at his crotch for more than seemed appropriate. Humor is written all over his face when you meet his gaze once more, remembering that the beautiful stranger had in fact asked you a question.

“Yeah, that obvious?”

He just chuckles, leaning against the bar top as well, “You just look a little intimidated is all. What is it, the vampires or the fucking in public?”

You push the shot glass further away from you, “Neither, I’ve had my fair share of vampires and if fucking in public scared me I wouldn’t be here.” Your words have piqued his interest, “Just first time jitters.”

He nods in understanding, “Fair, lets do some ice breakers then, I’ll start.” He clears his throat and inches closer to you, his shoulder nudging against yours, “My name is Jungkook, I’m technically 24, I enjoy making short films and I really want to fuck you.”

The small gasp you let out is clearly picked up by his ears, the smirk returning on his face at your reaction, “Oh wow,” you let out a giggle and he’s enamored by it, “well, my names Y/N, I’m 25, I enjoy baking and I really want to fuck you too.”

Jungkook hums, his tongue running along his teeth, “That can be arranged you know.”

You take a glance behind him, taking in the entirety of the club in the flashes of light. Almost every surface had a couple, at least, in the act of fucking each other in one form or another. In the middle of it all were the people who just came for the atmosphere, dancing along to the music playing as if ten feet away someone wasn’t getting fucked in the ass.

“Where?” You ask shyly, this was after all your first time at a club like this. The rules of dibs regarding location was foreign to you, not knowing what was off limits or not but Jungkook seemed to be very familiar with the club.

“Lets ease you into it yeah?” He murmurs out, his cold hand gently grasping yours and tugging you behind him as he slides through people without a care. The crowd seemed to split for him, humans and vampires alike staring him down but he paid them no mind as he crossed the floor.

The further you walked the more the crowd dispersed until you reached a hallway, the maroon walls were lined up with fetish photos, portraits of girls wrapped up in shibari, men wearing gimp masks along with shadow boxes holding various sex toys. In between each one were open doors, the rooms having a bed in the middle of them with lovers on top, the sounds of pleasure spilling out of the rooms and into the hallway.

Jungkook continued to lead you down the hallway, reaching a room he knows will be unoccupied. It was his room, no one ever used it but him, it was almost like an unspoken rule that it belonged to him so when you rounded the corner and stepped into it, the fact that i was completely untouched didn’t surprise him.

The bed was right in the middle, dimly illuminated by two sconces on the wall behind it. The black silk sheets look inviting, the large gold bed frame drawing you forward until your palms rested on the mattress, your fingers rubbing the soft material.

“I didn’t know places like this had beds.”

Jungkook steps behind you, his hands grasping your hips gently and pulling you back into him, “Mm, theres also a pool in the basement but I can show you that later.” He dips his head down, nuzzling his nose into the juncture of your neck and inhaling when the scent of you invades his senses.

He could hear the pounding of your heart, the blood pulsing through your veins in excitement. Jungkook knew you weren’t scared, you had waves of eagerness rolling off of you. The rythm of your heart wasn’t one of fear and as much as he used to love playing with his meals, knowing he didn’t have to sweet talk you into calming down made this more enjoyable.

“Yeah, later–laters good.” Your eyes flutter shut when his lips touch your skin, gently trailing up your neck and reaching your jaw. One of the hands that was on your hips came up to cup your cheeks, yanking your head around to crash his lips against yours.

The lingering remains of the tequila you had thrown back makes its way into his mouth when his tongue meets yours as he licks his way inside. Slowly you fully turn around, wrapping your arms around his neck and forcing him closer to you as your tongues tangled together messily.

Jungkook makes quick work at unclasping the harness you had on, his fingers coming together on your back and undoing the metal hooks until the fabric sagged off of your body. His lips never leave yours as you drop your arms, letting the leather material hit the floor.

When his hands come up to grasp your tits you pause kissing him, the icyness of his palm making your nipples pebble and he just smirks, almost as if he knows that you’re thinking of how his cold hands would feel inside your cunt.

“Such a pretty little human.” He mumbles out when he pulls back and stares at your exposed chest, his fingers twisting your nipple.

“Please,” you groan out, leaning forward to reattach your lips but he inches back to tease you, a playful smile on his face. “you said you wanted to fuck me.”

He relases your nipple, his hands now coming to undo his own harness, the garment joining yours on the floor but with it comes the mesh shirt. Inch by inch his smooth skin comes into view, the muscles on his stomach rippling as he peels it off and tosses it without a care.

“I do want to fuck you, so badly.” His head tilts slightly at you, watching you standing by the bed with your arms by your side and a pout on your face. “I like taking my time though baby, can you be patient for me.”

He hears the small intake of breath you make, nodding your head immediately. Patient? Yeah you could be patient for him, you could be anything for him. Its like his voice had you in a trance, any request he had could be fulfilled without a problem.

Jungkook reaches for you once more, his lips melting against yours while his hands guide your hips backwards, helping you onto the bed and pushing you back with ease. He slowly pushes you back until you’re fullt resting on the mattress, your hair splayed out around you with him hovering above you, his knees on either side of your thighs.

Your lips smack together for a moment, Jungkook gently nipping your bottom lip enough to draw a small bead of blood. When his tongue laps it up he moans into your mouth, the coppery taste mixed in with a hint of sweetness has his cock twitching. A small taste of whats to come, it takes him all the restraint he has to stop himself from devouring you here and now.

“Tastes,” kiss “so,” kiss “sweet.” He groans out in between kisses, pressing against you harder before trailing his lips down your body. You lay there with your chest heaving, your mind spinning when you feel the wetness of his lips kissing down your chest.

He envelopes your nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking around it with a moan, his other hand coming up to knead the flesh of your neglected breast and you gasp at the feeling, your back arching into his touch.

Your brain forcing your limbs to come into action now, your hand slipping into his hair and pushing him closer to you. The sensation of your fingers yanking his strands urges him on, sucking on your nipple while looking up at you, your eyes blown out in the darkness of the room, the bright red of his making him look predatory.

He pulls back with a wet smack, looking down at your saliva coated flesh and humming to himself while his hand continues to twist your other nipple. “So sensitive.” He comments when you whine at a particular hard tug he gives you, your head falling back with a sigh.

“Jungkook please.”

He relents, releasing your nipple and continuing his quest down your body, you’re expecting him to tug down your tights, maybe undo the garter belt before taking it all off but instead his fingers hook into the holes in the tighs around your crotch and yank hard. The sound of the fabric ripping has you lifting your head back up, catching him in the act of tearing your tights apart until your black panties were fully exposed to him.

Jungkook had slid off the bed, kneeling in front of you, his arms hooking under your thighs to drag you forward a bit, a smile spreading across his face when you let out a small shriek of surprise. The heels of your shoes rest on his back, your thighs sitting snuggly on his shoulders.

You can feel his breath against your skin, his lips hovering over the flesh of your inner thighs, his fingers digging into you as he licks his lips over. The anticipation is killing you, forcing yourself to drop your head back down because watching him stare at you like that was filling your stomach with nerves.

The soft flick of his tongue on your inner thigh has you tensing up, your hands reaching down to grasp his own, your warm fingers curling around his while they wrapped around your legs. Jungkook trails soft kisses on your skin, taking his time sucking and biting around your panties, his tongue gently flicking over your clit, a teasing motion that you barely feel through the material of your underwear.

He chuckles when your hands clutch his with annoyance, you had told him you could be patient but you were really doubting yourself now. Maybe fucking him out in the open of the club would’ve given you satisfaction a lot quicker.

Just as you’re about to voice your frustration, Jungkook pulls a hand away from your thigh, hooking his finger on the edge of your panties and yanking them to the side. Your glistening core shines back on him, his mouth salivating at getting a taste of you, wondering if your cunt was as sweet as your blood.

“Fuck.” You gasp when he licks a broad stripe up your slit, his tongue gathering your wetness in a practice move, a satisfied moan leaving his mouth at the taste. Everything he had said about taking his time was out the window now, diving into you shamelessly.

He growls when your hand comes back to tangle into his hair, the slight burn of his scalp causing him to eat you with more determination. His lips wrap around your clit, slurping and sucking gently enough to have you whimpering, your back arching up into him at the feeling.

Jungkook smirks when he releases your clit, nosing against it while his fingers circle your entrance, slipping in without resistance. The dirty thought that had crossed your mind before had been proven correct, Jungkook’s long icy fingers felt amazing inside your heat, spreading you open as if they were meant to be there. When he adds a second one, scissoring inside of you to stretch you out, a moan dies in your throat when you choke out, his lips come back to your center in a frenzy.

You can feel every ridge of his finger inside of you, grazing the bundle of nerves each time they thrust out, coupled with the way he’s sucking on your clit its not a shock that you’re quivering on the bed.

“So fucking wet.” He awes for a second, the tug on his scalp letting him know you needed him to go back to what he was doing. A gush of wetness escapes you, dripping down his palm and onto the floor and he hums, he can hear the pounding in your veins increase in speed, the fluttering of your heart sounding like music to his ears.

“C-close,” you keen out, your heels digging into him and bringing him closer, “fuck, bite me. Please bite me.”

Thats all Jungkook needed to hear, his fingers slip out of you to replace his mouth, quickly circling your clit to have you hurdling over the edge. You can feel the pressure building in your abdomen, the controlled flicks of his fingers have you whining out.

Just as you’re about to teeter over Jungkook dips down and kisses your inner thigh once more, opening his mouth to clamp over your skin. In a flash his fangs pierce your flesh, a brief feeling of searing pain shoots up your body before being replaced by intense pleasure when he fully latches on, lips suckling on your skin.

The rich liquid pours into his mouth, the same coppery sweet taste he had sampled earlier is increased with the pleasure you feel. Jungkook’s eyes roll back at the flavor, his fingers not letting up on your clit even with the choked gasp of his name as you reach your orgasm.

Your body trembles underneath him, your hands grip on his hair loosening up as he quenches his thirst. Everything feels tingly, each nerve ending on your body being lit up from the intense orgasm you just experienced. When he pulls away from your thigh, traces of blood spilling around his mouth he moans, nuzzling his way back to your center, gently licking the remnants of your orgasm off of you, enjoying how you whimper on the bed.

“So good.” He rasps out, his eyes flicking up to look at you and you gasp at how much brighter they are, a ruby red sparkling in the dark of the room, his eyebrow cocked up as he trails his way back up your body, letting your legs fall from his shoulders and back onto the bed.

His leather clad legs press against you, the feeling of his hardened bulge against your hip has you shuddering. “I’m not done with you yet, I’m going to ruin you baby.” He kisses up your chest, his eyes never leaving yours. The fucked out look on your face makes him rut against you, “You sure you want this?”

Your arms wrap around his torso, nails digging into his back as you rut up into him. His head drops down onto your neck when you grind against him, your wetness smearing along the leather. “I need it, ruin me Jungkook.”

The hiss he lets out has your toes curling, moreso when his mouth kisses along your neck, a teasing nip of his teeth on your skin, “Oh I will.”

Jungkook reaches down with one hand to unbotton his jeans, tugging them down enough for his cock to slip free. You don’t get a chance to look it over, the size of it being a total suprise to you since his lips were no on yours again, your eyes slipping shut as they worked together, teeth knocking into each other in a hurry.

He wraps a hand around himself, sighing into your mouth as he gives himself a pump. “Jungkook.” You groan into his mouth, wiggling your hips around as he positions himself between your thighs. He nudges your thighs further apart, your heels resting on the edge of the bed while his knees sink into the mattress.

“I know baby.” He mumbles against your lips, pressing another kiss to them. Thats when you feel the tip of his cock pressing against you, a slow rut of his hips following as he coats his length in your arousal.

Your nails dig into his back once more, the silk sheets gliding against your skin when you arch your back to get some sort of friction from him.

Jungkooks eyes are glued to where you meet, watching in admiration when he tugs your underwear to the side and eases himself into you, his cock sinking into your heat slowly. The feeling of him stretching you open has you moaning out loud, your head thrown back and exposing your neck to him.

“Fuck baby, you’re taking me so well.”

The stretch feels almost impossible for a second, you hadn’t seen his length but the feeling of it alone made it obvious that he was the biggest you’d ever had. When he bottoms out, his hips resting flush against your ass you whimper out.

“Feel so full.” You slur, humming softly when he kisses your cheek tenderly.

Jungkook just chuckles, “Gonna fuck you stupid.” Thats the only warning he gives you before inching back, rolling into you over and over until you’re adjusted to his size.

You knew after today you’d be ruined, you’d slept with your fair share of vampires but the way Jungkook’s cock split you open, pistoning into you in the most delicious way, you were done for.

The feeling of your nails digging in his back had him hissing, his arms caging you in underneath him. His eyes were focused on the way your breasts jiggled at every thrust, your body jostling upwards from the strength of them. Your face was screwed up in pleasure, your mouth dropped open as moans spilled out through your lips.

Jungkook was fucking you well and truly stupid, you looked lost in your pleasure, your walls fluttering around his length when he hit your sweet spot.

“Fuck,” you mewl, “so big. So–“ a gasp cuts you off when he speeds up his thrusts, the skin of his thighs smacking against yours with new found energy.

“Where’d those first time jitters go?” He wonders, one hand coming up to softly trail down your face, inching down until theyre placed around your neck, his fingers feeling the ferocious pulsing from your jugular.

“Such a fearless little human.” He grunts out with a groan, “Letting me do what I want with you, do you have any idea what I could do to you?”

A whimper leaves your mouth, your hips coming up to rut in time against his. You knew what he could do to you, if he really wanted to he could rip out your throat and drink you dry. Maybe it was the masochist inside of you, the idea of not knowing what could actually happen, of not being in control of the situation, that kept you going.

“I don’t care.”

That has a curious smile spreading across his face, “No? All you care about is my cock huh?”

You’re nodding immediately, yes his cock is all you care about. The way its stretching you open, the length of it hitting places inside of you without even trying. He fucked you like it was second nature to him, his thrusts being well timed, as if he knew the right way to get you falling apart underneath him.

“Can I–“ you press your palms against his chest lightly, the smal act of resistence causing him to still completely. He watches on curiously when you shimmy out from under him, your knees knocking into his as you turn over onto the bed on your hands and knees.

You’re facing the door now, seeing the flashes of light and the occasional person walking by the door and you briefly remember where you are. Jungkook watches you wiggle your hips at him, your fishnets stretched tightly over your ass.

“So fucking sexy.” He steps off of the bed, taking the time now to fully slip out of his pants, kicking them off and onto the floor before kneeling back onto the bed. His hands grasp your ass, kneading the flesh of them as he settles behind you, his palm coming up to land with a loud smack onto your skin. The sound mixing in with the thrumming bass of the club music and the moan you let out.

“C’mon, fuck me stupid.” You tease, dropping onto your elbows and spreading your thighs apart as you arch your back.

“Mm, careful what you ask for baby.”

His large palm splays across your back, pushing you down further while his other guides his cock back into you. The first thrust is a lot smoother than the last, the glide of your wetness helping him ease in to the hilt. This position has him reaching in deeper inside of you, your hands fisting the cool sheets as you moan out his name.

Its messy, the way his dick squelches every time it re-enters your, wetness coating his cock and dripping down onto the sheets. His palms grasp your hips, fingers digging into your flesh roughly. He knew he could crush you if he wanted to and the fact that you still laid here, drunk off his cock instead of running away, he knew he was just as ruined as you were.

“Jung-jungkook.” You gasp out, rutting back onto him with a small laugh and it catches his attention when he notices one of your hands come up to point at the door, “we have a visitor.”

He hums when his eyes lock onto the observer, another vampire he was familiar with, the dark red hair of Jung Hoseok flashes in the light. He’s leaning against the door frame, a drink in his hand as he watches on nonchalantly.

“Lets give them a show then yeah?”

He grinds against you with more purpose, one hand coming around to your front to meet your clit, rolling the sensitive nub between his fingers until you’re trembling. Your pussy clamps around him, your mouth dropping open in a lewd moan, burying your face into the sheets while you let yourself get lost in the feeling of it all.

Knowing Jungkook was having his way with you while someone watched lit a fire inside of you, the way you were creaming his cock being evidence enough that you were clearly enjoying yourself.

“Harder, fuck me harder.”

Jungkook fulfills your request, starting to thrust into your heat harshly with no qualms about having a spectator. “You’re soaked baby, you gonna make a mess of these sheets?”

All of your senses are full of him, just him and his cock and the way he pounds into you, his fingers flicking against your clit with expertise. His grasp on your hips is the only thing keeping you from toppling over, your upper body laying limp on the bed as you let his ravish you.

When your eyes look up, meeting the gaze of the stranger by the door you smirk, sending them a wink and earning a chuckle from them.

Jungkook can feel you tightening up around him, his own release creeping up inside of him. He needs to taste you again, “Let me have another bite baby.”

He bends over your body until his nose pushes against your hair draped over your neck, a deep inhale sending shivers down your spine. Your hand comes up to move your hair out of the way, mewling when he nudges against your skin, “Oh god, yes.”

His lips latch onto you seconds later, the now familiar feeling of his fangs sinking into your skin making your whole body tense up this time. Your limbs lock up as he moans against your flesh, the warm blood dribbling into his mouth. Blood always tasted different coming straight from the jugular, the taste of it making his eyes roll back as he quickly ruts into you.

The euphoric feeling of him drinking from you pushes you over the edge once more, the pleasure sparking from the open wound until it reaches all of your limbs. Your walls clamp around him impossibly tight as you cum, a shout of his name leaving you as he fucks you through your orgasm.

His lips never leave your neck, suckling the blood from you as your body trembles underneath his. A weak whimper leaving your lips sends him over, his balls tensing up until he’s spilling into you, thrusting his hips against yours as deep as he could. The warmth of his cum fills you up, a soft sigh sounding out when he finally detaches from your neck, the smear of blood around your neck being licked up by him as he shallowly thrusts a few more times.

“Shit.”

Your eyes look up once more to find that the other vampire was now gone, leaving you and Jungkook alone once more, his cock still buried inside of you, your neck throbbing slightly after the abuse.

When he pulls out of you your hips full drop onto the mattress, the cool sheets feeling like heaven against your warm body. Jungkook chuckles at your worn out form, gently grasping you to flip you over to face the ceiling, not giving you a moment to recover before slotting his lips against your own.

You taste your own blood on your tongue, the coppery tang being new to you but you don’t mind it, not with the way he kisses you like you were more than just a messy fuck. He pulls back after a second and you grin at him, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks, your thumb rubbing the drying blood from his chin.

“What did I taste like?”

He presses another kiss against you, “Like fucking heaven, I could die eating your pussy.”

The wink he sends you makes you blush, swatting his chest lightly with a laugh, “I meant my blood you perv.”

“Oh I’m the perv now?” He teases, catching your hand before you can smack him again, “I think you ruined me too baby, never tasted blood this sweet.”

You bite your lip at his words, staring up at him with wide eyes in an almost innocent way as if you hadn’t just participated in this scandalous act. He wanted nothing more than to proposition you into being his blood bag, a somewhat intimate request but he knew it was useless. Considering you had never been to this club before he knew you weren’t from around here, you’d be long gone in a few days, a distant memory that would simmer away over time and for some reason it pained him to think that so he chose to suppress it.

“Let me walk you home, you never know what monsters could be lurking.”

That same giggle that enamored him earlier is back now, “If I could handle you I could handle anyone.”

His eyebrows arch up at your teasing tone, a smirk curling his lip as he stares you down, “Is that so?” His eyes have that same predatory look in them, your skin breaking out into goosebumps at the way he stares at you, looking like he’s ready to dive in once more.

He wasn’t finished with you yet.

#goldenclosetnet #btsghostie #jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #bts smut #vampire!jk #jeon jungkook #jungkook one shot

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troubatrain · 4 years

Text

sober - m. barzal (pt. six)

a/n: so after the hell week we all survived in the good ol’ USA my brain finally decided to let me actually write. tbh i wrote this about four times before i forced myself to just finish it and stop tweaking it.

Five

Mat’s kitchen looked like a tornado had run through it. The usually pristine, absolutely untouched kitchen of the young bachelor was getting more use in the twenty minutes Mat had been awake than it ever had. Truthfully, Mat wasn’t a morning person. Mat slept like a rock, and he thought there was nothing besides the fear of his coach that could get him up earlier than noon, but he was wrong. You had him up before eight, hoping if he could beat you to waking up you wouldn’t have a chance to sneak out on him. He did, opening his eyes to catch you snoring softly beside him. He laid there for a moment, his eyes on you because he almost in disbelief you actually stayed. It was a moment of peace, the complete opposite of the mess you’d both gotten yourselves into. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t debating how he was going to get someone to leave, he was figuring out how he was going to get you to stay.

Mat was an absolute whore, and he didn’t care one bit. Why should he? He was young, he was at the top of his game, and his ego got a little bigger everyday. He was just as guilty as you were when it came to his lack of commitment. Mat had never been able to be a good boyfriend, no matter how hard he tried - so he just stopped trying. His schedule wasn’t made for dating, and he never wanted to put the work in. You were different. Something clicked in Mat when he realized how enraged his body felt hearing DeAngelo talk about you the way he did. He was going to let it go, and in hindsight maybe he should have, but he didn’t want to. That protective feeling took over his body because it was too strong for him to shove back down before it got out.

Mat would have told you he loved you after that game, because he does, but he knew he was playing a dangerous game. The reality of what would happen if this was real scared him, but not nearly as much as he knew it had to scare you. You had something to lose, a life that Mat just wouldn’t be apart of. Mat wasn’t in a position to ask you to give that up, especially for someone who you weren’t even dating. Mat knew if he moved too quickly you’d get spooked and run away without giving Mat a second thought. He’d disappear from your memory like everyone before him.

Mat’s thoughts were broken by the sound of your feet padding into his kitchen, your arms wrapping around his waist while you pressed a kiss to his back, “Hi pretty girl.”

This was uncharted territory, the morning after. You’d always been an expert, leaving yourself enough time to sneak out and leave before anyone would notice you were gone. That kept your heart safe, free from the feelings that were present in this very moment. You couldn’t have left last night, slipping out of Mat’s bed and into a cab in the middle of the night, but something stopped you, “Do you actually know what you’re doing?”

“I thought I’d try to make you breakfast,” Mat admits, a smile on his face while he turned off the stove, eggs forgotten to look at you, “I’ll get better at it, I promise, breakfast can be my thing.”

“Your thing?” You muse, letting Mat gently push you onto the island, standing between your legs.

“Yeah, when we fall in love or whatever, I’ll make breakfast,” Mat chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“You’ve lost your damn mind Barz,” You sigh, leaning your head on Mat’s shoulder while you savored the last few moments of peace you were feeling. You were going to have leave his place, off to a four game road trip where Mat was free to fuck whoever he wanted.

Mat’s finger was gently gliding over your face, “If I’m crazy it’s because you made me crazy.”

“You were insane before I met you,” You defend not daring to open your eyes and meet Mat’s gaze, “And now you’re just annoying.”

“I don’t remember being annoying when you were begging me to fuck you last night,” Mat counters back, hands moving to your bare thighs, the warmth from his hands was a stark contrast from the cool counter, “If I’m correct it sounded something like Mat please.”

“Don’t push your luck Mat,” You threaten, his impersonation of you from the night before stopping almost immediately.

“Would I push it if I asked you to stay until my flight later?” Mat asks, eyes full of hope while he tries to hang onto the moment just a little bit longer.

“If you never talk about it again,” You nod, deciding that the damage was already done. You were so far gone a few more hours couldn’t hurt you anymore.

“We can talk about how fucking good you look in orange and blue though,” Mat teases, a grin on his face. You furrow your eyebrows, looking down and realizing just what shirt he had given you the night before. A bright white number thirteen in the corner, with an Islanders logo present on the front.

“Mat if you don’t take this off of me right this second.”

“You never have to ask me twice to take off your shirt babe.”

***

You leaned your head against the window of the private jet that definitely cost more for one flight than your entire salary, taking a deep breath and a break from the laundry list of emails you were due to answer. You were flying to St. Louis for the All Star Game, your plans of a week long vacation somewhere warm with some of the team and their significant others thrown out the door the second Chris stepped in for Panarin last minute. Not even two minutes later, Charlotte strutted over to your desk to tell you that without a need for someone to translate for Artemi, you were the new kid and that meant you had to suffer through the weekend while everyone else took their vacations.

“At least pretend to be excited,” Chris mutters next to you, taking a break from his own reading and elbowing you in the side.

“It’s hard to be excited when everyone’s on a beach and we’re flying to Missouri in January,” You snark back, pulling your glasses off your face and rubbing your eyes.

“You either need to start sleeping or stop hanging out with that secret boyfriend of yours,” Chris jokes, but it struck a nerve with you.

Mat wasn’t your boyfriend. Mat. Wasn’t. Your. Boyfriend. He didn’t get to have all of you, because he didn’t deserve it - no man does. Nothing about the very small amount of vulnerability that he got to see after that game meant anything. You left that morning and he went on a four game road trip and the world spun on. You could stop whenever you wanted to, move on with some other dumb boy who didn’t care more about you in clothes than without. But did you want to? That was a debate you’d been having with yourself for days.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” You grumble, gritting through your teeth. Technically, it wasn’t a total lie.

“So you are seeing someone!” Chris points out, as if your deliberate words were going to make it past him. Chris held most of the intelligence on the entire Rangers roster, and there was nothing that he didn’t pick up, “So, What's the deal? He doesn’t want anyone to know about you or you don’t want anyone to know about him.”

“It’s mutual,” You hum, sipping the coffee that had gone cold.

“Are you a sugar baby?” Chris questions, a cautious tone to his voice, “Not that I think there’s anything wrong with it or anything-”

“No I haven’t found a sugar daddy,” You roll your eyes, waiving Chris and sparing him the lecture that there’s nothing wrong with the idea at all, “We’re just in a limbo.”

“For what it’s worth,” Chris says, taking a deep breath before he finished his thought, “You seem happy, you haven’t snapped on Tony in almost a week.”

“Thanks Chris,” You laugh softly, popping a headphone back into your ear so you could finish up some work.

***

Mat was in absolute disbelief the moment he saw you step into the hotel lobby. You weren’t supposed to be in St. Louis, you were supposed to be on some island in a bikini making him wish he wasn’t good enough to be selected for the All Star game at all. Mat scratched his head for an answer as to why you didn’t mention the change of plans, but then the thing that he spent his entire roadie before he left for St. Louis entered his brain at full speed.

You’re not her boyfriend.

Mat owed you nothing, and you didn’t have to tell him anything you didn’t want to. Mat honestly knew about four things about you and all of them related to your job. He was dying to know everything, even the stuff that didn’t matter that much. Hell, Mat would’ve killed to see the inside of your apartment at this point. He just needed one thing, one thing that he could hold onto that you showed him that no one else got to see. He was sure he’d find it, especially after he finally got you to stay at his place, but now he was starting to think maybe he’d never crack you.

You were going to just avoid Mat like the plague. The hotel was swamped with players, their families, and any staff that had tagged along for the weekend. The city was still buzzing from last season’s Stanley Cup win and there was not a chance Mat wasn’t going to be busy all weekend, because Mat Barzal was an amazing hockey player. You hated to be reminded of it, because if you could have Mat feed you stupid compliments and never remind you of his job you’d be happy forever.

hotel sex is on the table

and you look fucking hot today

You roll your eyes, checking your phone while you were standing in line to check in. You look around the room, trying not to draw any attention to Mat who was giving you a shit eating grin from across the lobby. He looked good, a white button up tucked into suit pants that were doing his ass justice. You look at Chris, who was too engrossed in his own phone to even look back at you.

pretend like i don’t exist right now and we’ll talk

wanna play a game?

that didn’t go well for you last time Barzy

if i beat your buddy kreids tomorrow night you give me one night

you won’t

is that a yes?

fine

You turn around, giving Mat one last death stare to remind him you weren’t kidding on your plea to pretend you didn’t exist. Your job was important to you because you weren’t Mat. You weren’t going to get paid millions of dollars to play and then retire with a pretty penny in your pocket. You worked, and the stress of losing your job would definitely break you. Charlotte instilled fear in you like no other boss you ever had could, and if you got caught messing around with someone who played for another team while you were working she’d probably just fire you on the spot. Not to mention the heartbroken faces of your chosen family. Mat somehow existed in both a different and the same world as you. He understood your work life because it was so close to his, but he had his own work family and you had yours. No matter what, there would always be some sort of weird divide caused by that stupid rivalry. For now, it was just going to have to be something you’d worry about later.

***

You turned in the mirror of your hotel room, the lacy black lingerie set fit your body like a glove, and you were impressed with Mat’s taste given all he ever wore was sweatpants. You look in the corner of the room, the last piece of his little gift sitting in the box. Mat dropped it off earlier, a note on top telling you that when he inevitably smokes Chris in the faster skater competition he had something in mind. You weren’t surprised by his confidence, but you were surprised by the gift itself. Folded neatly in the box wasn’t just the lingerie, a bright blue and orange jersey was right underneath it, a shiny white number thirteen stitched into the back. You knew you didn’t have to wear it, because Mat wasn’t going to force you to do anything, but you were wet at just the thought of how animalistic Mat would probably get. You tossed on the jersey, throwing an even bigger sweatshirt and sweats over it before you snuck up to Mat’s floor- hoping Chris wouldn’t catch you leaving from the room across the hall.

You pull out the room key Mat gave you, sneaking into the door and locking it shut behind you. You slipped off your sweats, leaving you in nothing but the jersey and your panties.

“Fuck,” Mat dropped his phone from his hand the second you came into his view, “I didn’t think you’d wear it.”

“I wasn’t going to,” You muse, your confidence boosting while you strutted over to Mat. He had that effect on you, the ability to always make you feel like the sexiest woman in the world - even if you didn’t feel like were, “But then you beat McDavid.”

Mat pulled you between his legs while he sat on the edge of the bed, his hands toying with the jersey while he let the fabric slip through his fingers, “You look so fucking good in my jersey baby.”

“I’m proud of you Mat,” You purr into his ear, playing into Mat’s ego just a little bit. You were proud of him, and for the first time you wanted him to know. You pressed a kiss against his jaw, feeling his own breath hitch in his throat, “Can I show you?”

“Keep that jersey on and you can do whatever you want to me,” Mat admits, slipping his hand under the jersey and tapping your ass lightly.

“I’ll keep it on,” You giggle, pushing Mat on his back and getting to work. Your lips kissed down his chest with every button of his dress shirt you got undone, tossing it in the corner to be forgotten about until later. You unhooked his belt, leaving open mouth kisses just above his pants. You slid off his dress pants slowly, taking his boxers with them to let his cock spring free. Mat groaned at the sight, gathering your hair to pull it back for you.

“Wait,” Mat stops you, holding your hair back to stop you from putting your mouth on him. His finger traced your cheek, a look on his face you couldn’t quite read, “I just want to remember this, you look so beautiful right now.”

You could feel the heat rush your cheeks, Mat had called you to dozens of things but never once did the word beautiful ever slip through his lips, “You’re just saying that because I’m about to blow you.”

“No, baby, I mean it- fuck,” Mat groans, this thoughts halted by your mouth on his cock. His hips snapped up, hitting the back of your throat, “You’re so fucking good princess.”

You moan, hollowing your cheeks and gripping Mat’s thighs a little tighter, giving him the show you so desperately wanted. You head bobbed in a perfect rhythm, taking as much of Mat as your body could handle. Mat pushes your head back, taking a look at the line of spit that was still connected to his dick, your eyes were glassy and your throat was sore but Mat would keep you like that forever if he could, “Let me finish.”

“I’m in charge tonight,” Mat reminds you, the tone in his voice sent a chill up your spine. You knew Mat was rough, and a little demanding but he never crossed that line with you, “On your knees.”

“Like this?” You tease, sitting up on your knees to rile him up just a little bit more.

“More like this princess,” Mat stands behind you, gently pushing you down so your ass was in the air. He was quiet, bunching up his jersey so he could get a full view of the lingerie he went out and bought just for you, “Be good or I won’t let you cum pretty girl.”

Mat’s threat with a light smack to your ass, a moan escaping your lips. He slipped the black lace panties to the side, gliding one of his fingers against your folds while he pressed a kiss to your skin, “So wet for me already.”

“Only for you Mat,” The words tumbled out of your mouth, your eyes widening at your own confession.

Mat was thankful he was behind you, because if you saw the way his gaze changed from your words he’d never live it down. You looked so perfect, spread just for him. His jersey. His number. And in his own fantasy: his girl. He snapped himself back into reality, sliding into your pussy that was practically dripping in anticipation.

“Faster, fuck Mat please,” You whimpered out, trying to move yourself to get Mat to pick up the pace. He chuckled darkly, hips snapping back and forth until the only sound in the room was the string of curses leaving your mouth, “I’m close-”

Mat flipped you over before you could finish, his hand grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him, “Tell me this pussy is mine.”

“Fuck I’m yours Mat,” You breath out, locking your eyes with his while it felt like time froze around you, “I’m yours.”

“Look at me when you cum baby,” Mat urges, his hand still gripping your chin. He picked up his place, making use of his other hand around your clit, “C’mon princess just for me.”

Your pussy fluttered around him, Mat letting out a groan while he tried to hold onto this moment for just a bit longer. He looked down at you, catching your breath from your own high. You hand snuck down to his cock, pumping it slowly, “Cum on me.”

Mat nods, letting you work on his dick with your hands while he nibbled at your neck. He was going to mark you up, make you remember who you belonged to because he so desperately wanted it to be him. He spilled onto your pussy, head pressed into your neck while he came down from his own high. You both laid there for a moment, your hand gently stroking Mat’s back while you both took a moment to think about what just happened. Mat was possessive in a way he’d never been before, and you ate it up without a second thought - that had to mean something right?

“I need to get back to my room,” you whisper, afraid to break the comfortable silence.

“I know,” Mat nods, finally picking his head up, “Keep the jersey, you might need it one day.”

“Your stupidity is honestly astounding,” You joke, brushing his hair out of his face while Mat’s face turned into a pout.

“Can I take you on a date?” Mat breathes out, hoping he wasn’t reading this the wrong way, “No games, no funny business, let me take you out.”

Say no. Say no and never call him again.

“One date,” You agree against your better judgement, pushing Mat away and looking around the room to find your sweats that you snuck into his room in, “Better make it a good one.”

Mat smiles, teeth on full display while he watched you slide your pants back on, “I’m the best at everything Y/N don’t forget that.”

“Goodnight Barz,” You tease, giving him one more look before you left his room.

The elevator ride down was quiet, most of the hotel’s occupants already asleep or still out partying the weekend away. For your sake, you hoped Chris would be fast asleep like the grandpa he was. You rushed down the hallway, Mat’s jersey still hanging loosely off your frame while you looked in your hand for your room key. Your search was stopped by a throat clearing behind you. You jump, turning around to see Chris’s eyes boring into you.

“You’ve got some explaining to do.”

#My writing #mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #nhl imagine

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99liv3s · 3 years

Text

The Game

"Wanna play this new game I found while cleaning the attic??" Michael asked his friends, Jane and Danielle... he pulled out a small, old looking thin box and placed it on the table.

"What is it??" Danielle asked, eyeing the thin box curiously.

"It's called "Happenstance", Michael replied. "I found it buried in an old closet up there... doesn't look like anyone's touched it in years!! My grandparents must have played it once or something!"

As Michael was explaining this, Jane has pulled out the contents of the box: a game board with a straightforward trail made up of squares, a rather large deck of cards, and a 6-sided die, along with a sheet of instructions that she was now looking over.

"Happenstance, the game where what happens, happens!" She read aloud. "The rules are simple... Roll the die, move that many number of spaces forward, then draw a card." "Whatever is written on the drawn card must and will happen, then it's the next player's turn." "The first player to reach the end wins the game!"

"That's all??" Danielle asked. "Sounds easy enough, almost boring!"

"There's another note in these instructions, Jane stated and read, "There are many gifts and curses throughout the game, but the player that reaches the end and wins will get their fondest wish come true!"

"Uh-huh yeah," Danielle replied skeptically, "You know what, why not??" "There's nothing to do around here anyway while the internet is being fixed... It might be fun!"

Michael and Jane both nodded and murmured in agreement... it couldn't hurt to try out this "harmless" game for a bit of fun.

After about 10 minutes of setup, the three of them had chosen a game piece and had set each of them on the start square, and Jane had placed the deck of cards in the center of the board as indicated. They then agreed that, since Michael had found the game, he should go first.

"Well, here goes nothing," He said, and rolled the die. He moved his piece, then drew a card.

"Do not worry or celebrate, for this card does...nothing!!" Michael read. "Well, that's disappointing!!"

The 3 of them laughed! "Well, my turn now!!" Jane said and rolled.

"Your next action will be unsuccessful!" Her card said when she drew it. "What does that mean?? There are no actions in this game, other than rolling... what gives?" Jane complained.

The other two shrugged, then Jane started to take a drink of her water... instead, the bottle slipped, causing her to spill it all over her. As she sputtered and Michael laughed, Danielle glanced back at Jane's card...

"Your next action... you tried to drink and were unsuccessful..." Danielle began

"Oh, ha ha," Jane replied. "That was a simple coincidence... honestly, there doesn't seem to be much to this game!"

Danielle grabbed the die and took her turn, rolling the highest number and taking the lead. Then, she drew her card.

"You are pregnant!" The card read. Danielle and her friends giggled after she read it out loud. "It will rapidly advance, and a long painful birth will happen within the next hour!"

Jane shook her head, sighing. "Ok, I'm done, I think." I don't see the point of continuing this useless game!"

Michael was chuckling at Jane, but Danielle suddenly doubled over, clutching her stomach!! She felt uncomfortable, and once Michael and Jane finally noticed something was wrong, they rushed over to her side. What they saw made all three of their eyes go wide!! Danielle had a bump... a very large baby bump. She looked 9 months pregnant.

"OH MY GOD!!" Danielle screamed!! "I'm...I'm Pregnant??!!" "How did this happen??"

Her friends stood and stared at her in shock as she rubbed her now large belly, gasping. "I...I can feel it moving!!"

Michael ran over to the box and grabbed the instructions. "IT'S TRUE!" He exclaimed... "This game can make actual stuff happen!!" "It's cursed!!"

"We gotta stop playing right now!!" Jane cried!!

"But, what about me??" Danielle cried. "How do I not be pregnant anymore??"

"I found something," Michael said, scanning the instructions. "There's a note at the bottom that says that all effects caused by the game will disappear when someone wins and the game ends." He looked up. "So, we gotta keep playing and finish the game, then Danielle's pregnancy will disappear!"

"But, Jane began "but, won't we be risking other things happening to us if we keep playing??"

"We have no choice," Michael said, as Danielle sobbed. "If we stop now, Danielle gives birth, and she's too young to become a mother!!"

They all looked at Danielle, who was indeed barely 14 years old, and the 3 of them nodded. They would continue. As the three of them sat again around the game board, however, Danielle looked again at her card, specifically the part that said "A long painful birth within the hour"...could they finish the game before that happened??

And so they played, for the next 30 minutes, Danielle absentmindedly rubbing her pregnant belly, the three of them no longer laughing. As the game continued, Michael had taken the lead, though none of them no longer cared who won in the end. Michael had witnessed a small sum of money seemingly appear out of nowhere when a card told him to expect good fortune, but he also got a spider bite, also after the game had told him it would happen. Jane wasn't as lucky... she drew a card that caused her a slight sneezing fit, and then toward the middle of the game, she drew her own pregnant card, and the three watched as Jane's belly grew just as Danielle's had done.

Finally, the three of them were reaching the end of the game, though it now seemed as though they were all rolling low numbers. The three friends were sweating bullets, for though Jane was 17, the same age as Michael, and therefore was at an age where she could probably give birth safely... she still didn't want to become a mother. But, the real worry was Danielle... she was too young and a quite small girl. Could she even survive childbirth??

There were only a handful of squares left in front of all of their game pieces when Danielle first started feeling the pains. She suddenly cried out and began moaning, clutching her belly. Michael rolled the die for his turn nervously as his friend cried... he rolled a 1!!

"Shit!!" He exclaimed, as Danielle whined and cried, Jane kneeling beside her. "It's alright," She coached.

"IT HURTS!!!" Danielle moaned!!

"You will experience what it is like behind the eyes of the opposite sex!!" Michael read, realizing too late what that meant. He gasped in horror as his hair grew, boobs sprouted on his chest, and he could feel his sex organs changing. Danielle sobbed even harder in fear and pain.

"Jane, take your turn, hurry," Michael said, shocked to hear his voice much higher pitched than before.

Waddling back to the game board, trying to ignore Danielle's sobs, Jane tossed the die. She was disheartened to see that she was one square away from the winning spot.

"Your current greatest fear will be realized!" The card said. The instant Jane finished reading it, Danielle let out a wail, and everyone heard a splashing sound... Danielle's water had broken!!

"OH GOD, I NEED TO PUSH!!" Danielle yelled out immediately. Michael rushed over to her, shaking her head. "You can't," she said. "You gotta fight that urge... here, take your turn!!" "If you win, this all goes away!!"

As Danielle panted and moaned, her friends were unsure if she would even be able to take her turn in her condition. But, Danielle was finally able to let the die drop out of her hand. As another contraction hit, Michael moved Danielle's piece for her and drew her card.

"The current event in your life speeds up!" The card said. Danielle screamed as overwhelming pressure hit her!! Jane pulled down Danielle's wet shorts and underwear to see that a baby's head was already starting to crown. Danielle screamed louder as she felt the burning sensation in her vagina!!

"OH GOD, It's BIG!!" Jane remarked, wide eyed, as she stared at the baby's head peeking out of Danielle!!

Michael grabbed the die and took her turn, hoping with all hope that she could win this game!! The die landed on 6, and Michael quickly moved her piece to the end square, yelling out "IT'S OVER, I WIN!!" hoping that would make it so.

Suddenly, in the blink of the eye, Michael was male again, and Jane and Danielle's pregnant bellies vanished. Danielle lay on the floor sobbing, her vagina still exposed, but with no baby head in it. The three friends were shaking in relief and fear, and no one moved for quite a while. Finally, after about 20 minutes, they slowly came back to themselves. Danielle slowly rose up and attempted to put her shorts back on, and Michael turned to read a message that had appeared on the win square next to his piece.

"Congratulations, you have won Happenstance!! We hope you enjoyed playing our game! Your greatest wish that you were thinking off at the moment your piece touched the win square has already come true. We hope you had a unique experience with our game, and will play it again soon."

Michael realized that, technically, his wish had come true, for his wish upon winning the game was for this nightmare to simply end, and it had. As Jane put her arm around Danielle, who was still shaking, Michael grabbed up all the contents of the game, put them all back in the box, and then tossed the box into the fire in the fireplace.

"Come on, let's go.... anywhere away from here!!" He said to his friends.

It was 2 days later when Michael moved into a new house, closer to his friends. A young woman named Chelsea moved into Michael's old house with her new husband!! One day, she cleaned the dirty fireplace, to discover a boardgame sized box, only slightly burned, with the title "Happenstance" on it!!

The End!

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glimmerglanger · 3 years

Note

glimmer do you think you’d ever write an obikin smut prompt again? I’ve been nervous about asking but this one wouldn’t leave my head: Obi-Wan and Anakin at a fancy party, either in the aftermath of a fight, or seeing each other for the first time in a while, going nuts with frustration/longing and finally having frantic reunion/make-up sex in a library or coatroom somewhere while the party rages on around them. Maybe Anakin has to put his hand on Obi-Wan’s mouth to keep him quiet...

Alright, so, I had a devil of a time trying to make this prompt work in canon, and then realized, well, why not pick an AU where I could better see it happening? Obi-Wan!Prime may perhaps not be down with an assignation during an important diplomatic event. Emperor Obi-Wan from the mirror!au, though? Oh, he could be persuaded. AND SO HE HAS BEEN.

Technically, reading “Through a Glass, Darkly” probably would make this make more sense, since this takes place AFTER the end of that fic. But I don’t think it’s necessary. This is a “both Obi-Wan and Anakin were raised as dark-siders because ALL the Jedi are dark-siders” au, wherein Anakin has managed to put Obi-Wan on the throne.

This fic is NOT SAFE FOR WIZARDS. SPICY. BE YE SO WARNED.

(Also, OP, I want you to know that I only realized today that you meant a fight between the BOYS and not, say, a battle with the Seppies. So that’s where my head has been the last few months.)

~~~~~

Anakin spotted Obi-Wan first in a knot of Senators, the politicians clustered all around him like noisily squawking birds. They were a background consideration, one Anakin dismissed out of hand as he stepped fully into the ballroom.

He’d never cared much for such...galas. He’d been forced to attend many, when Palpatine ruled as Emperor. Palpatine had enjoyed showing him off, whispering into Anakin’s ear as the Senators slowly mingled around, the sour tang of their ambition mingling with the sharper edge of their fear through the Force.

Anakin enjoyed the events slightly more, these days, with Obi-Wan in his rightful place.

He looked better in the fine robes of office than Palpatine ever had. He was wearing robes all in black and gold, tailored to accentuate his shoulders and the trimness of his waist, all the lines of the fabric drawing attention to the lightsaber hanging from his belt.

He was the best thing Anakin had seen in weeks, since he’d - with a certain degree of vicious delight - taken the army to settle some….uprisings from the long defeated Hutts. It was good to remind them of their place, every now and then.

But, oh, Anakin had ached with missing Obi-Wan the entire time he was away. He understood, perfectly well, that Obi-Wan could not go galavanting around the galaxy, the way he once had. He was Emperor, now. His place was on Coruscant, protected and safe.

Obi-Wan turned as Anakin moved through the crowd, single-minded, ignoring the Senators who tried to catch his attention. None of them mattered. Every one of them could have dropped dead, as far as he was concerned.

Anakin’s breath caught, momentarily, as Obi-Wan finally faced him, head tilting to the side, golden eyes catching the lights around the room. He’d worn his hair loose, all in a spill down over his shoulder, held back from his face by the crown high on his brow.

There was one foolish Senator directly between them, still chattering away inanely, and Anakin put a hand on the man, pushing him to the side, ignoring the sound he made.

Obi-Wan pulled a little face at the action, but any ire washed away almost immediately, when Anakin went to one knee, snagging one of Obi-Wan’s hands and pulling it close, brushing a kiss across his soft, warm skin. “High General,” Obi-Wan said, warm and full of promise, looking down at him, “you are returned.”

“I am,” Anakin said, flowing back to his feet, sliding his hand up Obi-Wan’s arm, over his shoulder, to curve against his neck. He murmured, ignoring the stares, “As I promised,” and leaned down, taking the kiss he’d more than earned in his time away.

The Senators, proving they were not complete fools, found other places to be.

Obi-Wan’s mouth curved into a warm smile when Anakin drew back, his eyes half-shut as though he savored still the kiss. “I missed you,” Anakin murmured, brushing his nose against Obi-Wan’s cheek, enjoying the hitch of his breath, the clean smell of his skin.

Anakin knew, perfectly well, that he smelled not so finely. He’d come directly from the shuttle, still battered a bit from the last battle, impatient to see Obi-Wan, to put hands on him and pull him close.

“And I you,” Obi-Wan told him, and made a thick, pleased sound when Anakin took his hand and turned, moving through the crowd. He knew the palace well enough, recalled little nooks and rooms from so many past galas.

Some days, he wanted to have Obi-Wan in front of the entire Senate, in front of the whole galaxy, so they knew exactly how he felt, what he wanted, what they risked if they spoke ill of Obi-Wan or tried to harm him in any way.

More often, though, he wanted Obi-Wan for his own, wanted no others to see the way he looked so soft and sweet when Anakin kissed or touched him. Obi-Wan wanted the galaxy to be taken care of. He wanted people to be treated well, to live...fulfilling lives, Anakin supposed.

Anakin cared little for any of that.

He wanted Obi-Wan, pulling him through one of the fine, arched doors onto a balcony overlooking so much of Coruscant and, with a nudge of the Force, shutting the door behind them definitively.

The air on the balcony was cool and refreshing. Anakin was sure the lights below were luminous and lovely.

He wasn’t paying attention to them. It was so much better to crowd Obi-Wan against the closest wall, to brace a hand by Obi-Wan’s head and lean down far enough to kiss him properly, the way he deserved to be kissed.

“Ah,” Obi-Wan gasped, clever hands busy between them, all his want curling around Anakin, clear as a physical touch.

“I missed you,” Anakin told him, nipping at his smooth jaw, back towards his throat. “I missed you so fucking much, I--”

He grew too impatient for words. They’d never been his strong suit, anyway. He curled his fingers into Obi-Wan’s hair, kissed him again, hard, and assisted with shoving fabric out of the way.

It was a relief, something pure and right, to get his hand around Obi-Wan’s cock, freeing him from silken and velvet fabrics. Anakin could take them both in hand if he tried, the leather of his glove smooth and cool, Obi-Wan’s skin against his, Obi-Wan’s breath punching out against his mouth, the entire rest of the world going away, and--

And, when this kriffing party ended, Anakin was going to carry Obi-Wan off and arrange for a more fitting reunion. For the moment, he brought them both off, fast and impatient. The hot spill of Obi-Wan’s come across his fingers - his cock - was enough to take the edge off, to pull Anakin over into his own release.

They slumped against each other for a moment, breathing the same air, and then Obi-Wan hummed and said, “Oh, dear one, it’s so good to have you back.”

Anakin felt his mouth curve up, sweet delight racing up his spine. It was worth it, all of it, the fighting and death and blood, to hear those words. Worth it to have Obi-Wan grip his hand and lift it, to frown over the mess on his glove and to grouse, softly, “This mess won’t do, though.”

Anakin watched him, cock twitching again, as he licked across the leather, battered by battle and covered with their mingled come and--

Obi-Wan kept eye contact the entire time, and smiled, when he finished, leaning forward to kiss Anakin, mouth tasting of them.

“Come on, then,” Obi-Wan said, breezy, “shall we make our goodbyes?”

#glimmer replies #ask me anything #obikin #spicy #not safe for wizards #mirror au #sith obiwan AND sith anakin #getting a reunion

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specialagentsergio · 4 years

Text

now i’m getting colder || part two

summary: Emily’s been dating you for nearly a year and she’s never been happier—until her past comes to call. Then she’s gone, and Spencer’s left to pick up the pieces of your broken heart.

pairing: spencer reid x f!reader (unrequited), emily prentiss x f!reader

category: angst

content warnings: (faked) major character death, mentions of / implied sex, swearing, grieving, mentions of drug abuse & addiction, unhealthy coping mechanisms

word count: 5.1k

series masterlist || masterlist

The morning after Emily dies, Spencer wakes up to the smell of cooking bacon. He feels groggy and disoriented as he sits up in an unfamiliar bed. It’s not really a new feeling—it happens often enough with the amount of hotels he’s stayed at through work. This bed, though, feels way too nice to be a hotel bed.

He feels around for his glasses, eventually locating them buried under one of the spare pillows. I’ve got to stop falling asleep with these on. Once he can see clearly, he realizes where he is: one of the guest room’s at Rossi’s house.

It had been nearly four in the morning when the jet got back to Quantico. JJ and Hotch had gone home to their families, and Rossi had insisted that everyone else stay with him. “None of us should be alone right now,” he’d said in a voice thick with emotion.

Spencer tries to ignore the migraine he can feel building behind his eyes as he pulls himself out of bed. He doesn’t know how long he was asleep, only that it wasn’t long enough. He follows the smell of cooking food out of his room and downstairs to the kitchen. Morgan and Seaver are already awake, chatting quietly at the island while Rossi cooks.

“Pretty boy,” Morgan says, noticing his arrival. He pulls out the chair next to him.

“What time is it?”

“Almost eleven,” Seaver answers.

Morgan puts a hand on his shoulder when he sits down. “How are you feeling, kid?”

Spencer shrugs. “Okay, I guess. Where’s Garcia and (Y/N)?”

“Garcia was dead asleep when I got up,” he replies. “I’d guess (Y/N)’s sleeping, too.”

“Food’s going to be ready shortly,” Rossi announces.

Seaver looks to Morgan. “Should we wake them up?”

“I think we should at least check on them.” Morgan stands and pats Spencer’s arm. “Come on, kid.”

He trudges back up the stairs after Derek. He nods towards the door to the room you’re staying in before going into the one he’d shared with Garcia.

Spencer opens the door quietly. You’re barely visible from the doorway, huddled under the covers, but from what he can see, he thinks you’re still asleep. He really doesn’t want to wake you—he wishes he was still asleep himself—so he just closes the door again and waits in the hall for Morgan.

Garcia is with him he returns, her sparkly sleep mask pushed up onto her forehead. She hugs him immediately. “Where’s (Y/N)? Is she okay?” she asks when she pulls back.

“Still asleep,” Spencer says. “I didn’t want to wake her because I don’t think she’s been asleep for very long. The pillowcase was still damp.”

“Oh, poor girl,” she whispers. “I can’t imagine how awful this must be for her.”

Morgan puts his arm around her shoulders. “Me either, baby girl. Let’s just let her sleep for now.”

They make their way back downstairs, where Seaver is helping Rossi dish the finished food onto plates. When Spencer tells him you’re still sleeping, Rossi loads one up with everything and puts it to the side for you to eat later.

It’s quiet as everyone eats. The food tastes fantastic, and under different circumstances, Spencer would be delighted to be eating it. But as it is, he can’t even finish his plate.

“Somebody please say something,” Garcia says suddenly. “I can’t take this silence anymore.”

Awkward glances are exchanged across the table until Seaver offers up, “Um, I’m almost done with the academy training. The written test is just a few weeks from now.”

“Yes, good,” Garcia says. “Your test. Tell me all about the test.”

Spencer rubs one of his eyes, knocking his glasses askew. He’s hit the point where he can’t ignore the pain anymore. “I’m gonna go lie down,” he mutters to no one in particular.

Morgan looks up at him when he stands. “You alright, Reid?”

“Yeah, I’m just tired,” he lies. “Uh, thanks for the food, Rossi.”

Rossi nods in acknowledgement before focusing back on Seaver and Garcia’s conversation, and Spencer shuffles off towards the stairs.

Squinting against the light coming through all the windows, he nearly runs into you in the upstairs hallway. “Oh! You’re awake.”

You look smaller than normal, standing with your arms wrapped around yourself. It’s like you’re trying hide from the world. “Unfortunately,” you murmur.

“Are... are you okay?” he asks hesitantly.

Your laugh is humorless. “Of course I’m not.”

“Yeah, me... me either,” Spencer admits quietly. You don’t reply, so he keeps talking. “Rossi made breakfast. Well, I guess it’s more like brunch now. He saved a plate for you.”

“Alright.” You start to move past him, but he puts his hand on your arm. “What?”

“Could I hug you?”

You think over it for a bit, then nod.

Spencer doesn’t know if he’s hugging you for your comfort or his own, just that it feels nice. But then he puts a hand on the back of your neck and you draw in a sharp breath, pulling away abruptly.

“Don’t,” you mutter. “Em always did that. Don’t—don’t do that.”

“Sorry, I—I’m sorry,” he stutters. “I won’t do it again.”

You take in a deep breath and brush away the tears that have slipped down your face. “I’m gonna go eat.”

Spencer watches you until you’re out of sight, then returns to his room. He can’t stop himself from rubbing his eyes again. The curtains are already closed, but the room still feels too bright. He deliberately puts his glasses on the bedside table before crawling back under the covers. He pulls one of the pillows over his head to try and block out as much light as possible.

The insides of his elbows itch, and he wonders how he’s supposed to get through this.

---

The funeral is hard.

It’s a nice service, but that doesn’t make it any easier. Each member of the team places a rose on the coffin. You kiss your fingertips before putting yours down, pressing them to the polished wood and barely holding back a sob.

JJ drives you home, and Spencer tags along, not wanting to leave you alone in an empty apartment right after burying your girlfriend. But it turns out to be something he doesn’t have to worry about, because when you open your front door, you’re greeted with a meow.

“Sergio!” you gasp. You immediately drop your bag on the floor and pick him up. “How did you get here, buddy?”

“You know how Penelope and I have been feeding him? We both thought he’d be happier here,” JJ says. “I brought him by this morning, but you had already left. I hope this is okay; I just didn’t want you to have to go to Emily’s apartment if you weren’t ready.”

“It’s more than okay. It’s...” There are tears in your eyes. “Thank you, JJ.”

She smiles softly. “His things are by the kitchen table. I wasn’t sure where you would want them.”

“That’s fine. I’m sure we can find good spots for everything, huh, Sergio?” you coo, turning and heading in that direction.

Spencer exchanges a glance with JJ as they both follow. You’ve barely said anything for the past few days, so hearing you chatter away to a cat in a baby voice is a little disconcerting.

“Um, do you need any help?” he asks. “With Sergio, or with, um, anything?”

“Hm? No, I’m okay.”

Sergio has settled himself over your shoulder and is now staring at him and JJ. He shifts on his feet, feeling oddly unnerved by it. “Why’s he staring at us?” he whispers to her.

“I don’t know, Spence. He’s a cat,” she replies. “That’s just what they do.”

You press the side of your face against Sergio’s body and close your eyes. It’s the most content Spencer’s seen you since he noticed you worrying over Emily a month ago.

“You can go,” you say. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” JJ asks. “I don’t mind staying.”

“I’m sure.” But neither of them move, so you open your eyes to look at them. “Guys, I really appreciate all the support. It means a lot. But I also need space. I’ll be fine with Sergio here, I promise.”

“Just as long as you’re sure.” JJ gives you a tight hug. “We’re only a phone call away.”

You nod. “I know. Thank you.”

Spencer hesitates, though. He understands that you need space and privacy to grieve, but he doesn’t know that he should be alone right now.

Your expression softens when you look at him. You gently slide Sergio off your shoulder and onto the table so you can hug him properly. He all but clings to you, turning his head into your neck. It seems to clue JJ into his dilemma, because when you pull away from him, she says, “Why don’t you come visit Henry, Spence? He’d love to see you.”

He sniffles, trying to stop himself from crying. “Yeah, okay.”

He lets JJ lead him out into the hallway. You give him a small smile and a wave before closing the door.

---

Spencer’s never been one to frequent bars. They’re loud and often overcrowded. He doesn’t like the concept of drinking out of a glass that some stranger used the day before. And more often than not, the surfaces—be it a table or the bar itself—feel sticky. It’s just not his scene. But that’s where he’s found himself tonight, two weeks after the funeral. He’s staring down at amber liquid in a glass while his brain is fixated on an entirely different one.

He hasn’t had cravings this bad since Gideon left, and he ended up relapsing that time. He doesn’t want that to happen again. He swirls the glass, watching the ice clink against the sides as he silently debates with himself. Technically, drinking would be considered relapsing, but it’s better than using, right? If it’s between the two....

It’s the guilt that’s driven him here tonight. Guilt over Emily being dead because they didn’t get to her in time. Guilt over not seeing the obvious question, why families, right in front of him, the answer to which would have gotten them to her sooner. But most of all, guilt that he can’t stop craving companionship with his dead friend’s partner. Every time those thoughts come into his head, he feels like he’s betraying Emily.

Spencer feels himself slipping dangerously close to the ledge. So when a stranger sits down next to him, strikes up a conversation, and eventually asks if he’d like to get out of here, Spencer says yes.

It’s not the best decision he’s ever made, but it’s better than the alternative.

An hour later, he’s lying in an unfamiliar bed, staring at the ceiling in the awkward silence that follows a hook-up. The stranger’s name is Ryan, he learned as he slid into the car’s passenger seat. And it was nice—god knows he’s touch-starved—but it was a risky choice. He knows all too well what getting into a stranger’s car can lead to. But he just hadn’t cared. Emily’s dead. They’re supposed to be the best, but they weren’t able to save her. So what’s the point of anything?

When his phone goes off, Spencer quickly scrambles out from under the thin sheet and sorts through the clothes on the floor to find his pants. The display identifies the caller as you. “Hello?”

“Spencer.” Your voice is so quiet, he can barely hear it; he has to turn up the volume on his phone.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. He starts to gather the rest of his clothing from the bedroom floor.

“I...” Your breath catches, and it’s a while before you speak again. “I can’t sleep. Could you come over?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course,” he answers immediately. “It’ll just—it’ll just take me a little longer than usual to get there. I’m, uh... I’m not at home.”

“Okay,” you whisper. “Just use your key when you get here.”

He ends the call and looks through the clothes in his arms, making sure he’s got everything.

“Was that them?” Ryan asks from behind him, and Spencer jumps. He’d nearly forgotten about him.

“Um, I’m not sure what you mean,” Spencer says, turning. He has a strange urge to cover himself, and nearly does before reminding himself that he wouldn’t be covering anything the man hasn’t seen already.

“When we were having sex, you were thinking of someone else,” Ryan says. “Was that them on the phone?”

Spencer opens and closes his mouth a few times, unsure what to say. Eventually, he mutters, “Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Ryan says easily. “I only noticed because I was thinking of someone else, too.”

“Oh.”

“Mine’s straight,” he says. “How about yours?”

“Um, she loves someone else.” Spencer’s not sure why he’s telling a stranger this, but it feels good to get it out. So good that if you weren’t waiting on him, he could see himself oversharing and telling Ryan everything. But you are, so he says, “I, uh, have to go. Would you happen to know where the closest Metro station is?”

“Yeah, it’s a few blocks north of here. Just turn left when you leave the building and keep going straight.”

“Thanks.”

Spencer gets dressed quickly, double checks that he has everything he came here with, then leaves with an awkward little wave goodbye. He finds the metro easily; it’s right where Ryan said it was. He stops by his apartment to take a quick shower, then decides to drive his car to your place to get there faster.

At your door, he flips through his keyring to find the right one. As he unlocks and opens it, he knocks lightly on the doorframe in the pattern you’d set ages ago, a signal to let you know that it’s him coming in. The alarm beeps and he silences it by punching in the code, another thing he’s known for years.

After shutting and locking the door behind him, he calls your name softly. There’s no response, so he ventures in, eventually finding you on one of the couches, curled up on your side with Sergio in your arms. You’re staring blankly across the room, but you must be vaguely aware of his presence, because when he touches your leg, it doesn’t startle you. There’s a small trash can full of crumpled up tissues on the floor in front of you, and your eyes are red and puffy.

There’s a bit of space on the end of the couch near your feet, and Spencer takes it. He waits a while, but you don’t say anything, so he speaks first. “Why can’t you sleep?”

The breath you take in wavers with unshed tears. “The bed’s too empty,” you whisper.

Sighing, Spencer runs a hand through his damp hair. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“Do you?” you ask. “You weren’t at home when I called you, and instead of coming straight here, you stopped at your apartment to shower. You were with someone.”

He doesn’t have a response for that. He didn’t think you would notice, but of course you did. Whether it’s because you’re a profiler, or because you know him too well, he isn’t sure. Either way, it makes him anxious, and he starts worrying the edges of his cardigan between his fingers. “I... I don’t know what to tell you,” he admits.

You finally look at him properly. “Look, I don’t care about you sleeping with someone,” you say. “Just... just don’t say you know what I mean when you actually don’t. It won’t make me feel any better.”

“Okay,” he says quietly.

You squeeze Sergio closer to your chest; surprisingly, he doesn’t seem to mind. “It’s not the same as wishing you had someone. Emily is the love of my life. You don’t know what it’s like to have that, and then have it snatched away.”

Spencer bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying anything else. He wants to explain, to tell you that even while someone had their lips on his tonight, he’d felt incredibly lonely, and that it had only gotten worse afterward. And he absolutely should not tell you that he thinks he does know what you mean. He thinks he’s felt something similar to what you’ve just described, watching you with Emily the past few months. But you buried her. To compare that to him loving someone who doesn’t reciprocate is insensitive, to say the very least.

So he does what he always did before you came along and helped him open up: he bottles it up and shoves it down inside.

You look away from him, and after a few more silent moments, he hears your breath catch in your throat. “Was,” you say, voice cracking.

“What?”

“Emily... Emily was the love of my life,” you correct quietly.

“Don’t do that,” he says sharply, without thinking.

Your eyes fly back to him and hurt crosses your face. “Spence.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “I just meant, you don’t have to do that. Not with me, at least.”

You don’t respond, just look back at the wall again, and god damn it, he can’t stand to watch you stare blankly at it anymore. “What do you want to do?”

“Nothing.”

“Maybe we could watch a movie,” he suggests.

“I don’t care.”

Spencer grimaces. Loss of interest or pleasure in most or all normal activities. A sign of depression. Of course, you’re grieving the loss of your partner. This type of depression is to be expected; it isn’t clinical. But he still feels uneasy seeing you like this.

“Well, I’m going to put something on,” he says, if only to keep the apartment from being silent.

“Knock yourself out,” you mutter. Then you tilt your head down, pressing your forehead into Sergio’s fur.

He takes the remote off the coffee table and flips through the channels until he lands on Discovery. Right now it looks like they’re showing Mythbusters reruns. He’d probably like it more if he knew less about physics and chemistry, but it’s interesting enough to keep him occupied.

You surprise him when the next episode starts by quietly asking what he thinks the outcome of the planned experiments are going to be. Eager to have something to do, he launches into an explanation. You murmur an occasional, “uh-huh”, but he doesn’t think you’re actually listening. You’ve still got that blank look on your face, but at least it’s focused on the TV instead of the wall. He suspects you just want to hear someone talk, to break the silence that’s been permeating your apartment since the funeral.

The affirmations stop after a while, and he looks over to see that you’ve finally fallen asleep. He stands up and Sergio lifts his head, blinking up at him with wide eyes. “Stay there,” Spencer whispers as firmly as he can, afraid that the cat leaving will wake you.

He looks around until he finds a blanket to put over you, then settles down on the other couch with a second one. Neither the couch or the blanket are anywhere near long enough for him to sleep comfortably, but he doesn’t want you to wake up alone.

---

They had to practically drag you out to the movie tonight.

Things have been up and down since you came back to work, a week after everyone else did. You have good days and bad days. Today has been a bad day. You’d tried to just go home, but seeing that you were in a dark place, Spencer had insisted you come out with them.

“It’s unnecessary,” Garcia says as the five of you trail out of the theater. “There was too much blood and gore and ew.”

“Garcia, it’s a slasher film,” Spencer says, amused. “How do you do a slasher film without violence?”

“You imply it.”

“Baby, the movie is called Slice 6,” Morgan says. “What were you expecting?”

“A refreshing beverage with a twist of comedy. I’m gonna have nightmares for a week,” she complains.

“With everything that we do and see on a daily basis, that got to you?” Seaver asks.

“Listen, newb, you may be all Sigourney Weaver ass-kicking tough, which is awesome, but the mystical mavens of innocence like myself jump at things that go bump in the night.”

“Why are you worried? I’m sure that Morgan will protect you. As long as he’s not jumping out of his chair like a prepubescent schoolgirl,” Spencer says, making no effort to hide his laugh.

Morgan rolls his eyes. “The only reason I jumped is ‘cause you guys woke me up.”

Garcia puts her arm through his. “How could you sleep during that?”

“Easy. You drag me out after a twelve hour workday, for what? You’re telling me that girl didn’t know that the unsub was waiting for her upstairs? Come on, now.”

“Villain,” Spencer corrects.

“What?”

“In movies, unsubs are called villains.”

Morgan barely holds back a snort. “My bad.”

Spencer looks to his other side. You haven’t said anything at all; you’re just staring at the ground as you walk. In an effort to bring you into the conversation, he asks, “D’you wanna know why horror movies are so successful?”

You glance at him, but Morgan’s the one who answers. “Why’s that, genius?”

“They prey on our instinctual need to survive. In tribal days, a woman’s scream would signal danger, and the men would return from hunting to protect their pack. That’s why it’s always the women and not the men who fall victim to the bogeyman,” he explains.

“Well, that’s not the only reason,” you say quietly. “It’s no secret the film industry is sexist.”

“That, too,” he agrees, just happy you’ve said something.

Garcia smiles affectionately. “Count on you, Reid, to break a movie down to science.”

“My favorite thing about horror movies is the suspense factor,” Seaver says, playfully shifting her voice to sound intense.

“Ah, the ticking clock,” Spencer replies.

“The helpless victim walks through the dark, shadows reaching out to get her,” she continues.

He’s got a smile on his face now as he plays along. “A sudden noise draws her attention. Is someone there, or is it just in her head?”

“Still, it’s totally unrealistic,” Garcia interrupts. “No one should be walking through a dark alley by themselves at night.”

Derek clears his throat, feigning offense. “Hello?”

“Ah. No one should be walking through a dark alley without a Derek Morgan by their side,” she corrects. Morgan chuckles in approval.

“But the best part of a horror movie?” Spencer asks, not done with the conversation. “You never know when the end is gonna come.”

Everyone splits up when they reach the parking lot, heading to their own cars. Morgan is driving Garcia, and you offer to drive Spencer home. But before you start the car, you ask, “Will you stay over tonight?”

It’s not really unexpected. He knows you’ve been struggling to sleep alone since the first night he stayed on your couch. He’s done it a few more times since then, and you’ve slept on his couch every now and then as well, when you reach the point where you’re absolutely exhausted and can’t take it anymore. You’re understandably lonely, but he suspects you’re also scared of Doyle returning, if the way you double check your front door, windows and alarm before bed is anything to go by.

“Of course,” he answers quietly.

You stop by his place on the way so he can pick up some clothes and a toothbrush. When he walks into your apartment, he starts to put his things down on the couch, but you take his wrist in your hand and pull him towards the bedroom.

His heart skips a beat. “Wh—what are you doing?”

“You’ve woken up with back and knee pain every time you’ve stayed on the couch. It’s too small for you. This bed is easily big enough for both of us. We’re adults; we can share it.”

“Uh, alright. Th—thanks,” he stutters.

“I’m going to take a shower,” you say. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable.”

The bathroom door clicks shut softly behind you, leaving Spencer alone to take in his surroundings. He’s been in your bedroom before, of course, but it feels different this time. He can tell what side of the bed you sleep on by the personal effects on one of the bedside tables; he sets down his things on the opposite one. Once the shower has started and he’s sure you won’t be coming back in, he gets changed into his pajamas.

As he pulls back the bedcovers, he tries not to think about how Emily was the one doing this just a few months ago. And he especially tries not the think about what the two of you undoubtedly got up to in this bed, and what your face must look like when you—

Stop that right now, he scolds himself. And there’s that guilt and betrayal again, making his chest feel hollow. He leaves the room to brush his teeth at the kitchen sink (he doesn’t want to bother you or rush your shower), and splashes some cold water on his face after to try and pull himself together.

He’s settled down with a book by the time you come out of the bathroom, your hair wet and the scent of your bath products clinging to your skin. “Uh, how was your shower?” he asks awkwardly, feeling out of place in your bed.

“It was fine.” You plug in your phone to charge and get into bed. You turn off your bedside lamp and lay down on your side facing him, apparently ready to sleep right away. Spencer doesn’t want to keep you up, so he marks his place in the book and turns off the lamp on his side. As soon as he’s adjusted to a comfortable position, you speak.

“Would it be okay if I slept close to you?” you ask in a whisper. Your voice wavers when you continue, “I miss being close to someone.”

Spencer couldn’t say no even if he wanted to. He nods before realizing you can’t see him in the dark. “Yeah, sure.”

You scoot towards him and curl up next to his body, your forehead touching his shoulder and legs pressed against his side. He tries not to tense up so you won’t think he’s uncomfortable with it, because it’s very much the opposite. He’s always liked your touch, and right now your skin is still warm from the shower and you smell so nice.

You fall asleep quickly, your breathing becoming slow and even. It’s the fastest you’ve fallen asleep in weeks. He’s just about drifted off himself when you shift, startling him back awake by moving closer in your sleep. One of your hands settles on his chest and your legs straighten out, one of them slipping between his.

Slowly, hesitantly, he moves the arm closest to you, putting it around your shoulders and resting his hand on your back. You don’t stir, so he closes his eyes again. And if he lets go of the guilt for just a little while and allows himself to pretend that you’ve moved in your sleep to hold onto him because you love him back? Well. You don’t need to know that.

---

It takes ten weeks, but the team finally has Doyle in custody. Morgan’s in the interrogation room with him, but is interrupted when everyone is told to gather at the roundtable. Spencer’s one of the first ones in, followed by Garcia and you. The rest of the team isn’t far behind.

“You get anywhere with Doyle?” he asks Morgan.

“Doyle doesn’t think Gerace has the guts to take him on.”

“But that’s definitely Gerace on the tape,” Garcia says.

Hotch enters the room, looking much different than the last time they saw him, sporting a beard and loose, casual clothing.

“Welcome back,” Morgan says, a bit of surprise coloring his tone.

“Thanks. Everybody have a seat,” Hotch instructs.

Morgan stays standing. “Why? What’s going on? Everything all right?”

Hotch crosses his arms and looks at the table as he begins to speak. “Several months ago, I made a decision that affected this team. As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilize her. And she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration. Her identity was strictly need-to-know. And she stayed there until she was well enough to travel. She was reassigned to Paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security.”

“She’s alive?” you choke out.

Spencer can’t process this; it doesn’t make any sense. “But we buried her.”

“As I said, I take full responsibility for the decision,” Hotch says. “If anyone has any issues, they should be directed toward me.”

“Any issues?” Morgan asks, voice shaking with emotion. “Yeah, I got issues.”

“I’ll say,” you agree. But before either of you can continue, you’re interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind you.

---

Ten weeks. Seventy days. One thousand, six hundred and eighty hours. None of it went by without Emily thinking of you.

Ten weeks, seventy days, one thousand, six hundred and eighty hours had passed by painfully slowly as she waited for the call.

Every time her phone had rung in Paris, she answered it with bated breath, hoping this was the one, the call that meant she could come back to her home, her team. Her family. You.

Unfortunately, it also comes with the news that Declan is in danger.

The glass doors to the BAU don’t feel the same as she walks through them. None of the building does. She had expected to it to feel the way it always had. Warm, full of life, where she belonged. But tonight, it just feels cold.

Through the blinds, she can see Hotch talking to the team, presumably revealing the truth about her death. As she gets closer, she can hear voices.

“... anyone has any issues, they should be directed toward me.” Hotch.

“Any issues? Yeah, I got issues.” Morgan.

“I’ll say.” You.

She stops in the doorway, and everyone turns to face her.

“Oh, my god,” Garcia whispers.

Everyone’s looking at her, but Emily only has eyes for you.

You’re staring back at her, mouth hanging open slightly, tears slipping out of your eyes and down your cheeks. There’s silence until you suddenly push back your chair and stand. Emily drops her bag to the floor just before you slam into her, nearly knocking her over. You cling to her, and she clings back.

Then she feels it. She feels the warmth and life, the sense of belonging.

Here, with you in her arms, she’s finally home.

---------------

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